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kookslastbutton · 6 months

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what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts au #fic:whatlovefeelslike #kookslastbutton

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ozzgin · 6 months

Note

The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

I was wondering if I should just incorporate this into the Yandere CEO draft I have, but I had this sudden idea for a downright shameless relationship between a beloved, well-respected politician and a perverted, needy brat of a Darling. (I don't like politicians but alas, I needed a high-stakes public profession for this)

Yandere! Politician x Bratty! Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are...

Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere x reader #yandere politician #yandere smut #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere #older yandere

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fishnapple · 3 days

Text

🔞 Channelled message:

The first time that they feel desire for you & their fantasies

(lover/partner/future spouse)

This is an old reading, I actually have this type of readings stashed away in my draft from months ago but could never find the right time to post them. So here is one of them. Enjoy.

Disclaimer : Contain mature contents. Minors (under 18y/o) do not interact.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

AGATE

Are you generally this flirty and aggressive with other people or only with me? I'm worried. Other people shouldn't be able to witness this side of yours. Am I a possessive person by nature or I'm only like that towards you? I don't know anymore.

I was perfectly contented with my daily life, structure and routine bring peace to my mind. I could be a very repetitive person, don't find me boring, I won't be like that with you. Do you know why? You jolted me out of this safety shell and plunged me into a strange land by that playful and straightforward way of yours.

The moment you came closer to me with that broad smile and that heat, oh, that heat, I could feel it in my skin even when you were not touching me at all. Thanks to you, I've discovered that I have the hot for aggressive people, or it's just you. I imagined you grabbing me and bestowed me with a passionate kiss, then whispered into my ears how much you wanted me. It sent a shiver down my spine. I'm not gonna lie, I felt instantly aroused, I hope that I didn't make a fool of myself in front of you. Just know this, I will have no problem getting aroused whenever you initiate it.

You protested that it wasn't how you behave? Well, it's true, you weren't exactly that sexually aggressive towards me like that, not yet, not in the beginning. You probably were just having some fun, playing some games, tackling some creative projects, or recounting some fun stories while I looked at you and wished that passion of yours would be directed at me instead.

You were so brilliant, a walking flame. You awaken my desire like lightning striking down a tree. My mind went into fantasy land and imagined what it would be like, holding you in my arms, naked, both of us, our chests pressed against each other, touching that soft skin, both outside and inside. What we could discover about each other, what we could experience together. I wanted to be risky, to pour all of my desires on you, to taste you everywhere, to do it until we're both overwhelmed, to see where the limit is, and push through it.

Another thing that I have to confess is that at that time, that feeling was pure lust. I hadn't developed romantic feelings for you yet. But my desire for you will haunt me, I won't be able to decipher the reason. Until someday, when I finally looked deep into my feelings, after questioning it thoroughly, I will arrive at the conclusion, the inevitable, that you are the one for me.

Note: this person will develop sexual desire for you when they see you putting effort into something creative, when you were having fun, showing jest and passion for life, being assertive in a playful, flirty way. It may be a random moment, not a big event. That attitude will be a contrast to their usual way in life, so they will find it exhilarating and freeing. That will also affect their fantasies about you, wanting to be free, having no limit, indulging in each other, touching your deepest place. There could also be some exhibitionistic desire, somewhere a little open with the risk of being seen. Other than that, they don't really have any specific kink or particular fantasy. They are mostly go with the flow style.

FLOURITE

Does me saying I love your tears turns you off? Don't worry, I will never be the one that makes you cry, or at least I will try not to be one. We can cry together, you can cry in front of me. The sight of your tears will tear my heart open and let out this feeling that I myself wasn't aware of before.

I was really grateful that you chose to be open with me, telling me your pains that no one else had ever known. It's my honour. At that moment, I felt as if our hearts had been bridged, your emotions flowed into mine, I won't even know what was yours, what was mine. I will feel this rage inside, toward life, maybe? How could life give you so many pains like that. You were just yourself, yet people couldn't have the bravery to face that realness. Please don't ever dim your light for other people or for anything.

But that rage will be accompanied by desire. My desires are tied to my emotions. The more intense the emotion, the more intense my desire will be. I will feel this instinctive urge to protect you. Destruction and protection go hand in hand. I wanted to force all those painful memories out of you and burn them, to replace them with memories of me.

I felt a war inside me. I wanted to touch you softly, caressing every part of you, to tell every inch of you that it's okay, to wrap you with pleasure so much that those tears will be tears of pleasure (oh no, will that make me the one that makes you cry? I'm willing to be the offender then). But I also wanted to grab and take you into me, to push you so hard that we would become one, whatever I do, you still feel so distant to me. I got impatient.

But I won't act on that desire. I will be gentle, I will be the comfy bathtub that you drown yourself in after a long day. To be the warm water in the tub, lapping over you. Can you feel my heat? You don't need to do anything. Let me take care of you.

Note: This person will feel an intense desire to protect you and to soothe you. To them, emotions go hand in hand with sexual desire. So the moment that their emotions and yours are heightened will be the point where they feel sexual desire for you. At that time, you could be telling them about past pains of yours, likely from childhood, it related to being an individual, isolation, not fitting in, of loss. You will be crying, the tears will be the trigger.

This person has the ability to connect emotionally with other people. The connection of emotions will lead to the connection of bodies. They are gentle but have a more aggressive side to them, a little extreme. I feel like the moment they feel desire for you will lead to your first time with each other. The fantasies will stay in their head, but they won't act on them completely. It could also come as a surprise for you. You may not be fully aware of the extent that is their desire for you.

They have a liking for water and wetness, be it the water around you when you are having sex or the water coming from you. So they might like to give you oral, shower sex, licking, dripping, spilling. They will also like to talk to you to instil their own fantasies into your mind so that you will share the same fantasies for each other. They want to achieve oneness.

CARNELIAN

I suppose that I wasn't being honest with you. Hiding all my problems and weakness, my insecurities were many, you know, they weighted heavily on my mind. Every night, they would come in, haunting my sleep. Life is heavy to me, I'm a fearful person. I've never felt safe in this world. My foundation is lacking. It felt like I was living in a castle made from cardboard, ready to collapse at any moment. And how can I welcome another human being into this shabby castle of mine? That was how I thought about our relationship. I wasn't courageous enough, I let my demons whisper in my ears while you were there, caring, with the gentlest love that I've got.

It was until we had our first serious argument with the possibility of you leaving that I was awakened. It felt like hearing something exploded. I was disoriented, the first thought that sprang to my mind was to hold you, firmly, to drag you into my cardboard castle, to let you see it all, without care how it could collapse with both of us inside.

I thought that if I prepared enough, I would be confident, I would be able to show you our bright future together. But when will be enough? I'm ashamed that it had to take an argument for me to realise it, that my desire for you would be ignited in such a negative situation, human sure are weird creatures, don't you think?

No, I didn't act out that first thought, I just grabbed your hand and apologised, like a good and polite human. My heart was awakened, but that doesn't mean my mind would just quietly follow suit.

After that incident, I found myself thinking about it again and again. I would relive the argument but put an erotic twist to it. (TW: dubious consent) I imagine me being rough and acting all assertive. Without a second word, I would pull your turning back close to me and kiss your neck and shoulder from behind, arms caging you so tight, you would feel a little suffocated. Then, as I feel you getting softer, I would let my hands trace every inch of your body, with you still a little miffed but can't resist my touch. I imagined you being pleasured until you let out a soft moan, shaking in my arms.

Then I would turn your head around to face me and kiss you with my all, without being afraid that you would find out all my insecurities and all that unsightly parts of me.

Note: This person could be quite emotionally distant, afraid to commit because of their insecurities. They are restrained and tend to overthink everything, to the extent of being paranoid. They are in their head more than their heart, their heart is a dangerous place for them.

There will be a point where you are tired of the uncertainty and distance in this relationship. The situation would be when you go on a date with them, something not quiet right will happen, something small, but you will argue and the argument leads to a bigger issue. You will want to walk away. This is when they realise the possibility of losing you, like a Tower moment. They don't want that to happen, so they will grab your hand and apologise, explaining their problems. Some kind of commitments will be formed. And also the desire for you.

They have a more aggressive and earthy side to them that is hidden and only comes out in their fantasies. They would want to pleasure you from behind, making you feel their feelings for you through physical touch. The focus is on you. They imagine themselves to be more brave, to open their heart for you to see without a care in the world.

AMETHYST

Ah, our first kiss, our sweet, sweet, first kiss. I can still recall the taste of you exactly, just like being on that day again.

Do you remember it too? We even took a picture of us kissing, to solidify our memory together, a celebration for our love. I felt so warm, like a sun has found refugee inside me. The kiss transported me into a magical land, into our future together, our journey has started.

I will be thinking way far ahead, about how our wedding will be, where will our honeymoon be spent, how our first night as a married couple will be, how our kids would look like, how we would be worried about their future and finally have some rest together in the old age. I didn't know that I was such a planner, or was I a dreamer? No, I'm a magician, I will make our dreams come true. Yes, brace yourself and start looking forward to it.

I have a commitment kink. There, I've said it, loud and clear. The moment we solidify our commitment to each other (I like the word 'solidify', like heavy concrete that we could sit on) will be the moment all my passion broke free and come running to you.

Do you think our lifetime plan in my head is just some innocent planning? No, I'm a sucker for details. No detail of our life will escape my mind. Including our sex life. What kind of domestic life could be without the pleasure.

Just like when we were dating, we will continue on being smitten with each other well into our trembling-hands-and-hair-whitening era. You and I will make sure that passion is never lacking in our relationship.

We will talk about it a lot, seriously and flirtatiously, teasing each other, then sit down and discuss it, like a research project. We will try many different things, getting feedback from each other, then calibrating the system until it reaches perfection. We will also tell each other about our deepest fears and painful memories, then we will kiss each other better every time.

Let's grow together. Let's run our naked bodies along the seashore like little kids, collecting seashells, giggling then colliding into each other.

Let's have our late night debate about the metaphysical then tearing out clothes in the process.

Let's grow trees together in our garden, let's get dirty (literally) as we embrace each other (I can't help using 'each other', I also like this word) on the soft, damp earth. Then, many years later, we will embrace each other under the shade of our grown-up trees.

Note: There's this warm and bubbly, exited energy to this person. The moment you first kissed will be when they start imagining your life together. They get turned on by commitment and the future prospects of your relationship. When they're dating, they definitely have long-term commitment and marriage in mind.

They are quite cerebral, love to think, and plan ahead. But those thoughts don't just stay in their head. They got put into reality. They like to think about the relationship as a project to build and to perfect with their partner. But they are not rigid. They like spontaneity. They want to feel the pleasurable aspect of the relationship with their partner everywhere, to make memories, to celebrate the love. Everything can lead to sex. They seem to have a preference for the outdoor and nature.

ROSE QUARTZ

Hmm, do you have some kind of superpower? The kind that can lower other people's intelligence? I felt like a toddler learning to speak for the first time when I'm around you. And this mind of mine did not feel too well about that. I'm usually the one that people look up to. I can say with some confidence that I'm an intelligent person, but being in front of you? My intelligence seemed to take a strike and went for an infinite vacation. I don't think you've noticed this dilemma in me. Thanks goodness, at least I could still appear as a good enough debate opponent for you. What's with all this talk about intelligence anyway? Because I want to know the cause and effect of things. I want to know the cause of my desire for you and the effect of it.

To put it plain and simple, you challenged me mentally. Who would have thought that I could get turned on by debating about the present school system with you? Talking about vehicles turned me on, talking about religious matters turned me on (wait, that doesn't sound right). I know you didn't do it to rile me up. You simply share your view and ideas with me, innocently. But I also know, our debates turn you on too, you can't hide that twinkle in your eyes whenever I say something controversial or go against you view. We flirt by words, our words, they clash then kiss each other. Is 'arguing' in public considered a type of PDA?

I thought I was the absolute ruler of my own mind, sitting smugly on the pile of gold, getting praised by commoners, confident that no one can match me (I'm a vain and arrogant human being okay). Then the gate was blasted open. There stood you, alone, with that bazooka for a mouth and an equally smug face. I thought that you came to steal my gold, no, that wasn't the true horror, you came to tell me that my gold was fake. Ah, how I slipped and fell, face kissing the ground. How dare you? I had to bravely stand up and charge at you, to kiss you? (Eh, I didn't expect that twist. Is this some kind of cheesy romance web novel?). Don't take it the wrong way, it's not like I'm worshiping you or anything, I just want to get close to you to study you, to pull out all of your secrets, and then? To sit at your feet and admire them, maybe? While we are in the mood, may as well dress the parts. Let's turn ourselves into characters of our own novel. Let me regain some of my dignity in my fantasies. Let me be the teacher, and you be the student, nodding admiringly at my every word. Then, while I'm drunk in your adoration, you would turn all bratty and tease me, strip me of my dignity again.

Note: I don't have much to say about this person other than you may want to save up to buy lots of costumes later on.

This person is quite arrogant and used to being admired and put on pedestal by other people. But you won't be like that to them. You challenge their world view, kick them down the pedestal, and they like that. There could be a masochistic streak in them. Wanting to be put down, to be humbled. They will want to be lured into a trap by their partner and be tricked into submission (willingly, with consent, of course). They like you to act bratty while they pretend to be frustrated and have to give in to you.

They have fantasies about role-playing, could be related to medieval themes. I don't see any particular actions, just them liking the mental stimulation and talking back and forth. To them, pleasure comes from the mind.

OBSIDIAN

Do you know about the ducklings imprinting? About how in the early period of a duckling, they capture the image and sound of a moving being into their mind, permanently solidifying this being as the object for the duckling to follow? I was like that with you.

You came into my life during my most transforming period. I felt like I was born again, leaving behind all the bad memories and disappointments. I felt weak and lonely, lost in this new world, literally, I had to move to a new place, getting used to the new environment from the start. And you were there, gently walking side by side with me. It's bittersweet how I had to go through the darkest moment in my life to meet you, but it's all worth it. You made the pains feel like distant memories.

I still remember that moment perfectly. You came to me, asking if I had eaten. I said no, and you proceeded to cook a speedy warm meal for me. I wanted to cry, honestly. Never in my life had I ever thought that food could be such a multipurpose thing, a miraculous balm, a pouring melody, a comfy blanket, a word of love. I felt full and nourished, by you.

Let me put you on the pedestal a bit, let me see you through a rose coloured glasses, let me dream about you every time sleep comes to me, temporarily or eternally. Let me return the love equal to that you've given me, or even more than that. I want to give you my all, at the same time, I want to be all that you have, as you are mine.

Sometimes, I wished that there's only the two of us in this world. How I wanted to muffle all other noises, smear all other colours, air out all the scents so that the only remaining things are your voice, your colours, and your scent. Let me paint you. Though I can't be confident that there exists a kind of paint that can convey the brilliant of your skin, your eyes, your hair. It's frustrating how I can see you crystal clear in my mind yet unable to translate the image into the canvas. In this case, could you be my canvas and let me paint myself onto you?

Note: This person has a sensitive and artistic soul. They will meet you when they've just come out of a dark tunnel, starting a new life, moved to a new place. They will get attached to your kindness and warmth. I feel like the situation when they develop desire for you for the first time will be when you are comfortable with each other already. You could come to their place, cooked for them. They could see your care, which will trigger their emotional desire for you. Their physical desire is tied to their emotional desire.

They will want to serve you, to put you on pedestal and cater to your every desire. They could be a little possessive, wanting you for themselves. They want to have sex in somewhere secluded, private and quiet, with a sparse surrounding or even empty. All of their focus will be on you. They will want to stay silent to hear your moans, eyes fixing on you all the time, and breathing in your scents everywhere. Then after the sex, they want to paint you, on canvas, you could be their muse, or paint on you with their marks. It's like your existence in their mind and in front of their eyes are still not enough.

#pick a card #tarotblr #witchblr #tarot community #crystal reading #lithomancy #pick a pile #tarot #divination #astro community #astrology #tarot reading #witch community

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ariestrxsh · 2 months

Text

*˖ ݁𖥔.𓀏·:*¨༺ .♱.✮.♱. ༻¨*:·𓀏.𖥔 ݁ ˖*

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, utter filth, praise, oral, light edging, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, cuckhold!matt, possessive!matt

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Matt and Chris make a bet, and Matt loses, but the stakes are high. Matt bet you, his girlfriend.

*˖ ݁𖥔.𓀏·:*¨༺ .♱.✮.♱. ༻¨*:·𓀏.𖥔 ݁ ˖*

she thinks of me part one

"Hey babe, please don't be mad," my boyfriend Matt said, biting his nails and avoiding eye contact with me. "I could never be mad. What's wrong?" I asked him, cupping his face and stroking it. I could tell something was seriously bothering him. "I made a bet with Chris. And I lost," Matt started.

"Okay? What kind of bet? Do you have to give him a lot of money or something?" I asked with concern in my voice. "Listen, I know I'm stupid. I shouldn't have put this on the table for a bet I wasn't sure I'd win," Matt continued, "I bet you. I lost a bet with Chris, and all he wanted if he won the bet was a chance to fuck you." My jaw dropped. "Listen, you can obviously say no, but yeah, then I will have to owe him a bunch of money instead," Matt shot me an innocent smile.

Is it bad that I was a little turned on by this? Of course, with Matt having two brothers who looked almost exactly like him, I couldn't deny that I was attracted to all of them, but I was afraid to let Matt know I did want to fuck Chris, and I was excited about him losing this particular bet.

"Don't worry, Matt. I patted him on the back. "I'll take one for the team. You won't have to owe him any money," I sighed, making him think I was doing him a favor as if I didn't have my own ulterior motives in mind. Plus, that would teach Matt to bet my body to anybody ever the fuck again.

Hours later, Chris stood over me on my bed. I was in a black classy lingerie set like he had requested. Matt was in the room, too. As much as he wanted to be blissfully unaware of what was going to go on between Chris and me in this room, Chris insisted that Matt watch.

The fact that Chris won a bet with his brother and what he wanted in return was to fuck me in front of my boyfriend was probably the hottest shit ever.

"Fuck, you look so amazing in that, ma," Chris said, adjusting the strap on my bra while he bit his lip. "Thank you, Chris," I batted my eyelashes at him. "You can take it off if you'd like," I whispered, giving him the eyes.

Matt scoffed at the way I was flirting with his brother in front of him, but part of the bet was that he wasn't allowed to stop us from doing anything together.

"Don't mind if I do," Chris softly responded, unhooking my bra. As it fell to the floor, he took one of my breasts into his palm and brushed his fingertips up against my nipple. I stifled a moan. With his left hand, he cradled my face, and with his right, he moved from my chest to my waist. He traced my curves, sending goosebumps across my skin. He licked his lips at me and slid his hand down the front of my black panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Chris gasped while he explored my sex, and I smiled innocently up at him. "You all wet for me, ma?" Chris inquired while he moved his fingertips in small circles. As I nodded, I saw Matt out of the corner of my eye clenching his jaw.

"Let's get these off of you, huh?" Chris cooed while he lifted up my hips to help take my panties off, and he shoved them into his back pocket. "Hey, what the fuck, Chris? That's not part of the plan. I said you could fuck her, not keep her panties," Matt got up into Chris' face. "Hey, chill. This is how I fuck, okay?" Chris responded. "Don't worry, baby. I'll buy you new ones," Matt said, putting his hands up in a defensive position and letting Chris get back to it.

I didn't want either of them to know, but I loved that Chris wanted to keep my panties. I wondered if he would look back on this encounter on lonely nights with my thong in one hand and his cock in the other. If I weren't already soaked, the thought of that alone would be enough to get me there.

Chris parted my legs with his hands and got up close and personal with my ladybits. "Wow, look at that gorgeous pussy," Chris said, admiring me. "If you think it looks nice, you should taste it," I whispered, devilishly grinning up at him, and I could feel Matt's eyes on me burning a hole through the side of my head. "I'd fucking love to," Chris looked up at me in disbelief, sounding surprised at how forward I was being and did as I suggested.

His tongue brushed against my sensitive cunt, feathering over my folds, and I smiled down at him as I whimpered, "Oh, Chris." I knew this would make Matt jealous, and it turned me on to think about him getting mad about his brother's mouth making me feel good enough to moan his name.

I played into it some more, gripping Chris' hair and rolling my hips forward so he could have better access to my clit. He responded by applying more pressure with his tongue and gently sucking on my most sensitive spot.

I glanced over at Matt through my hazy vision, and he looked pissed. He was gripping his chair, the veins in his hands and arms popping, and he looked like he wanted to kill us both.

"He's doing such a good job, Matt," I said in a breathy voice, smiling over at my boyfriend. Matt shook his head and shot me a look, but there was a part of me that swore Matt might have been enjoying it, just a little. His facial expression was one of anger and lust.

"Matt, you lucky bastard. I can't believe you get to eat this pussy every night," Chris growled, smirking up at Matt, who rolled his eyes in response to this. Chris gripped both my thighs, spreading them apart further and started moving his tongue back and forth with incredible speed. I felt myself on the brink of climax, but he abruptly stopped.

"Not yet, princess. I'm gonna take my time with you," Chris teased me. Matt shot his brother a look of contempt. Being called princess always turned me on so much, and Matt knew that. "'Keep calling me princess. I like that." I watched again as Matt shifted around uncomfortably in his seat. It was killing him not to be able to intervene at all. "Princess, you taste so fucking good," Chris whispered to me. He tenderly toyed my clit with his tongue for a little bit longer, and when I got close again, he stopped. I sighed and looked down at him, "you're such a tease."

He unzipped his pants and took them off, along with his boxers. Matt watched as Chris sunk his cock into my hole. I let out a small whimper as he slid it all the way in. "God, I've been dreaming about this forever," Chris whispered while he started rocking his hips back and forth. "Me too," I bit my lip to hold back a few whimpers. Chris smiled, but I could feel Matt glaring at me out of my peripheral vision.

I'd never told Matt I wanted to have sex with Chris, but I had fantasized about it before, and I figured I'd teach Matt a lesson about betting me, especially when he couldn't have anticipated how much I'd love fucking Chris.

"Oh, Chris!" I moaned louder this time while he thrust himself into me mercilessly. "Come on, princess. Let's give Matt a better look, shall we? Lay on your side," Chris cooed while we shifted positions. I turned over onto my left side, facing Matt, and Chris laid down behind me, spooning me and shoving his dick back into my cunt. He gripped my right thigh with his hand and held it up for better access. Chris leaned forward and whispered into my ear, "good fucking girl," while he continued to pound me. The angle was perfect. With every stroke, Chris was slamming into my cervix, and I felt myself relinquishing control to him.

Matt's previously stern demeanor was softening, and I could tell he was still jealous and possessive, but he was biting his lip and watching hungrily as Chris railed me. I loved how fast and hard Chris fucked. It was animalistic and hedonistic, but there was still a lot of sensuality and passion there too. My body moved in tandem with Chris' as he nailed me senseless.

"You take this cock so fucking good. Your pussy is all mine, princess," Chris whispered while he looked into Matt's eyes. Matt clenched his jaw once more, but I could see how hard he was through his pants, which made me enjoy sex with Chris even more. I loved that Matt was secretly getting off on it.

"Whose pussy is this?" Chris gruffly asked, reaching down to play with my clit. "Yours," I whimpered. "Say it again, princess. Tell me your pussy is all mine while you look at Matt," Chris told me. Fuck, he knew just how to push Matt's buttons. "My pussy is all yours, Chris," I cried out while I looked Matt in the eyes. Matt looked incredibly unamused.

I'd only seen Matt look this pissed once before in my life, and it was when some strange man slapped my ass in a bar once while Matt was standing right next to me, and he almost ended up fighting the dude. It was also how I figured out how much I got turned on by Matt being pissed off. He couldn't refrain. "Fuck you, Chris," Matt barked at his brother.

Chris ignored him and continued to fuck me until I was creaming all over his cock. My whole body trembled, and my climax cascaded over me like an orgasmic waterfall, and I moaned Chris' name nearly the whole time.

Shortly after, Chris pulled out of me and finished into his hand, while his eyes rolled back into his head. Profanities flowed from his mouth while his cum pooled into his palm. "Holy fuck, that was amazing," Chris uttered breathlessly.

"Okay, you had your fun. Now, get out, jackass," Matt said launching a towel in Chris' direction for him to clean up with. Chris laughed and made some snide remark, but Matt was not having it. "I'm serious. Get the fuck out before I kick your ass," Matt snarled.

Chris threw on his underwear and backed out of the room, saying, "Chill. Chill. It was a one-time thing." "Damn right it was," Matt said, slamming the door to my bedroom in Chris' face.

"Get on your fucking hands and knees. You're in so much fucking trouble. Your pussy belongs to Chris, huh? I think you forgot who really owns this pussy," Matt sternly told me while he unzipped his pants.

part two here 💖

taglist: @ariithereyet @bsturnzmtt @sofieeeeex @ribread03 @fratbrochrisgf @strnlxlqve @sturnzluv @sturniolo-girl (let me know if you'd like me to add or remove you from my taglist at any time)

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo fanfic

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l4mplight · 2 months

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Miquella and Trina; A Tragedy

Hey Tumblr. I have a lot of thoughts about Shadow of the Erdtree, and these ones... let's just say I don't think they'd do well on Reddit. It's not often that I feel particularly impacted by a particular fictional character. Usually I connect more with narrative arcs and themes, which is why I think I'm so drawn to the ephemeral, vibes based storytelling of Fromsoft's games. Playing through SOTE, though, I found Miquella (and St Trina) to be extremely emotionally compelling and relatable, and I wasn't sure exactly why. I think I've put my finger on it now though. First of all, know that I am writing from the perspective that Miquella is a sympathetic character. I know that it's not uncommon to read him as a manipulative Machiavellian villain, but I think that's both a misreading of the text as well as just plain boring. Like, he's not a Griffith clone you guys, give From some credit. Anyway, here we go.

"You have no understanding. Of Miquella the Kind. Of St. Trina's Love.

Content Warning: I'll be discussing themes of depression, and the implication of suicidal ideation.

So, a classic Fromsoftware theme is despair, and the ways we cope with a world full of it. It shows up twice in Shadow of the Erdtree; with Midra and the Frenzied Flame, where despair leads to a selfish nihilism that asks us to burn everything down, and with Thiollier and St Trina, who offer sleep as a comfort to the weary. Running a small errand for Thiollier has him say the following.

"If you find yourself… weary of the weight of this life, then just give me the word. Sleep is a balm, and eternal sleep… is an elixir."

Drinking the elixir he offers will, of course, result in an instant death. This is our first encounter with the idea of "Eternal Sleep," a more potent form of the sleep status effect that only appears here in the Shadowlands, after St Trina has been abandoned. The Velvet Sword of St. Trina tells us as much: "Silver sword of St. Trina, now stained the color of velvet. Inflicts eternal sleep. When St. Trina was abandoned, the faint, light-purple mists coalesced into an intoxicating deep-purple cloud." In order to ascend to godhood, Miquella abandons first his physical body, and then the more abstract aspects of himself. As we begin to descend down the fissure where we'll find Trina, a cross marks the spot as the place where Miquella abandoned his love. This connects Trina, "the discarded half" as Thiollier puts it, with Miquella's love. Leda confirms this in her own dialogue:

"St. Trina's love for Kind Miquella is boundless. She is, after all, his other half. Or perhaps her feelings go beyond even that. Even if she was left behind, I doubt her heart would waver."

Keep that in mind, it'll be relevant later.

Near the cross, a spirit offers up some of the most heartbreaking dialogue I've come across so far. The spirit gives us a bigger picture of Miquella's goals:

"Kindly Miquella... I see you've thrown away... something you should not have. Under any circumstances. How will you salvation offer... to those who cannot be saved? When you could not even save your other self?"

I teared up at this. The emotional impacted was aided by the fact that I ran into the spirit right after telling Moore to put his past behind him, leading him to rededicate himself to Miquella. He says:

"Hm. Maybe that’s Kindly Miquella’s love. Love for all the unloved. Love, to banish the pain."

Note here that Moore suggest Miquella's love will "banish the pain." This is also essentially what Trina's sleep does. It's a comfort to those in need. Anyway, between these two instances, we end up with a pretty good picture of the sort of god Miquella wants to become. He was already sympathetic to the outcasts of The Lands Between in the basegame, where he built Elphael and the Haligtree as a haven for those rejected by the Golden Order, such as the Albinaurics and Misbegotten we find there. In the Shadowlands, he has gone a step further. Hornsent tells us that he has committed himself, in essence, to righting Marika's wrongs.

"Miquella has said as much himself – he wishes now to throw it all away. He says the act – though undoubtedly painful – will sear clean the Erdtree’s wanton sin. The truth of his claim can be found at each cross. 'Tis evidence enough to earn my belief."

Of all of Marika's children, Miquella is the only one to see the serious flaws in her empire. Ymir points this out to us as well.

"No matter our efforts, if the roots are rotten, then we have little recourse. Ever-Young Miquella saw things for what they were. He knew his bloodline was tainted, his roots mired in madness. A tragedy if there ever was one. That he would feel compelled to renounce everything when the blame lay squarely with the mother."

My thinking here is aligned with Mother Ymir. You really have to feel for Miquella; he has essentially taken on, alone, the responsibility of making up for centuries of Golden Order imperialism. That's a massive burden to bear, especially for Miquella, cursed with eternal childhood.

(It's easy to miss, but Miquella actually ages up significantly when we see him in god-form. Until he steps back through the Divine Gate, he would have looked and sounded like he does in the introductory art and in ending memory scene. Compare those with how he appears in the boss fight, and it's clear godhood at least helped him reach puberty lol) So we've established that Miquella is the child of Imperial Rome on Steroids, is cursed with eternal childhood, and is an empathetic prodigy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Surely his mental state is perfectly healthy, right? Right??

Final warning, this is where things get quite sad. Here is where I will try to tie Miquella's arc together with Thiollier and St Trina, and the comforting oblivion and relief from despair that sleep represents for them.

As we search for St Trina, we descend down into the Stone Coffin Fissure. This is a place of death, with massive coffins built into the fissure walls, and Gravebirds, Bloodfiends and Putrescent enemies everywhere. St Trina is found at the deepest possible pit of this fissure, in a swamp of putrescence that has since blossomed into a garden of deep velvet lilies because of her influence. Trina offers us nectar of "eternal sleep," as Thiollier did previously, and as established then, "eternal sleep" is essentially nothing more than a peaceful death. Trina seems to fit in quite well in this place of ancient dead things, with some of the ancient remains even being compelled to fight for her in exchange for eternal rest, becoming the Putrescent Knight.

(Side note for levity because we're about to get sad again; I love this guy. It's a knight made out of the skeleton of a horse, riding on that same horse's decaying flesh goop body. Like, ugh. Beautiful. Plus, it may even have taken that shape because of Trina sharing Miquella's memories of Radahn, who was never far from his horse Leonard...)

We meet St Trina in her garden, and when we imbibe her nectar, we eventually begin to hear her voice in our death-dreams. She seems to pity him. Mourn for him, almost.

"Make Miquella stop... Don't turn the poor thing into a god..."

Trina appears to be in a bad state after her fall. She can only manage to get a few words across to us at once. Just as Leda predicted, her heart hasn't wavered. She is only concerned with Miquella's well-being.

"Godhood would be Miquella's prison. A caged divinity... is beyond saving."

Trina's most pressing concern is that godhood will be a prison for Miquella. Now, this could in theory be because gods are subject to manipulation from the Fingers and the Greater Will or a similar reason, but given that she calls him a "poor thing," I think there is likely a more emotional reason behind Trina's plea. I think that Trina is speaking as the embodiment of Miquella's love, but especially his ability to love and care for himself...

"You must kill Miquella... Grant him forgiveness."

...and she asks us to kill him.

In excising Trina from his being, I think Miquella also expelled the part of himself that was able to recognize how miserable divinity would be for him, and how miserable he was. The part of him that was tired of carrying the responsibilities that his compassion demanded of him. The part of him that was exhausted, despairing and desperate from having failed to cure Malenia, failed to save Godwyn, failed to perfect the Haligtree. St Trina is the part of Miquella that wanted to be stopped, to rest, to sleep, to die. In abandoning her as he does, Miquella is essentially repressing those thoughts and feelings, replacing them with more "selfless" ones; self-sacrifice, suffering on behalf of others, his martyrdom and apotheosis. I don't want to forget about "grant him forgiveness" either. She might mean forgiveness for failing to become a god, for not being good enough to succeed Marika and right her wrings. Maybe forgiveness for failing Malenia and Godwyn, or for leaving the Haligtree behind. Maybe even for abandoning her. But on the road to godhood, Miquella can't afford to indulge in this sort of self-pity. A child craves forgiveness and approval, a god must cast these things out.

"I'm feeling rather lost. Haunted by memories. Of St. Trina. Her visage. Her scent. The lure of velvety sleep. Would Kindly Miquella chasten me? For falling for St. Trina, while knowing that she was the discarded half? The problem is… I simply cannot help it. I would sacrifice everything, just to gaze upon her, one last time."

I want to mention Thiollier one more time here too. His primary visual motif is the long white braids that he wears on his clothes, reminiscent of Miquella and Trina's own signature braids (remember, she looked like an older feminine Miquella before her fall and injury). Thiollier is obsessed with Trina, pursuing her to hear her voice and fade into the comfort of her velvet sleep, though this doesn't kill him like it does us. I don't think Thiollier is connected to Miquella in any textual way, but I think he does serve as a reflection of the sorts of thoughts Miquella may have been surpressing. The self-pity, the need for approval and love, the feelings of weakness and uselessness. These are the things that lead Thiollier to pursue endless slumber.

Thiollier doesn't give in to that despair, however. Though he initially takes St. Trina's words... poorly, he eventually realizes what must be done, and dedicates himself to his new purpose: carrying out her final wish.

"I am here to serve St. Trina evermore. I am deeply sorry. For doubting you. I am here only to grant St. Trina's singular wish. I will stop Miquella the kind. He will never become a god."

This post is already quite long, but I also want to mention the obvious gender stuff going on here. There are a number of moments that make it seem as though St. Trina might actually be more than just "half" of Miquella. Firstly, as she is shown falling in the story trailer, Leda is describing how Miquella abandoned his fate, as if Trina had a vital role to play in Miquella's future. It also seems as though Trina isn't cursed in the same way that Miquella is; her voice and size indicate that she is at least more substantial than his "infant form," and she is depicted in "adult form, somewhat unnervingly" on the Torch of St. Trina. Furthermore, her "adult form" has a third eye in the middle of her forehead. The third eye is a symbol of enlightenment in both Hinduism and Buddhism; it seems that Trina has achieved some level of wholeness in this depiction. Meanwhile, when Miquella achieves godhood, his eyes remain permanently shut. He also appears to have only one physical arm. He holds Radahn with two incorporeal arms while casting with his real right arm, but his left arm appears to fade away to nothing before the elbow, as if unfinished. Miquella's blindness and asymmetry here, I think, reflect how unbalanced and incomplete his divinity is without Trina.

One more hint towards St Trina being a part of Miquella's future lies way back at the Haligtree. In Malenia's bossroom, just above where Miquella's cocoon was once embedded into the tree, the branches and roots appear to form a silhouette. This could be Miquella, Trina, or both, but I do see a certain resemblance to Trina's depiction on the torch in the way the "hair" covers the eyes. Given that Miquella's body appears to have grown a decent amount inside of the cocoon when we see in at Mohg's palace, it's possible that the cocoon situation was his original attempt to cure himself of his own curse, or perhaps become a part of the Haligtree itself. In the Shaman Village, Marika's home, there is a similar scene. A woman's body that resembles Marika seemingly mummified within the hollow of a tree. I honestly have no idea what to make of that just yet, but I thought it worth a mention.

So, with all that in mind, abandoning Trina seems to be even more significant. Not only has Miquella divested himself of his love and his fate, but maybe even his future, too. Being eternally nascent, he is always in a state of potential, after all. Am I suggesting that Miquella is a transfeminine character? That he was meant to grow up to become a goddess in the aspect of St. Trina, or maybe even more like Marika than he already is? Well, maybe. If you find it compelling, then absolutely. Fromsoftware's storytelling is always ambiguous, and is always design to leave us some room to read and interpret, to really play in the space we are given. Personally, I do find it compelling in a horribly tragic sort of way, fitting for the setting. It's also entirely possible that I have rather self-indulgently projected some of my own angst onto these character. I likely have, to be perfectly honest. It's rare that I really connect with a set of characters or a story like I have with this lot, and I hope that maybe some of you reading this will feel similarly. If you have read this far, thanks <3

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #miquella #st trina #elden ring dlc #miquella the unalloyed #thiollier #elden ring sote #elden ring spoilers #elden ring lore

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sugucidal · 1 year

Text

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER i. [3k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: with winter break having rolled around the corner, you’ve decided to spend it with your family back at home. it felt nice being back after 2 years away at university. you just wish your mom had told you that a certain guest was visiting. one that you hadn’t expected to ever have to face again.

୨୧‬┊warnings: fluff! + age gap (reader is 19 and toji is 34) + taboo content (cause what’re u doin tryna get tojis middle aged ass in ur bed smh) + slice of life kind of (??) + suggestiveness + humor + reader is in her winter bimbo era + toji is…toji. + no smut yet sorryy + slight slowburn + everything is legal! no ones going to jail!

୨୧‬┊a/n: first chapter woohooo !!! second chapter will finally be coming out on [redacted] <3

‪MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part iii.

Tugging at the sleeves of your jacket further down your hands, you let out an exhale, nerves set ablaze. The typical cool spring air was colder than usual this particular night out, sun having already set and moon shining up into the dark, starry sky.

Fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, you gazed up, doe eyes glinting heatedly up at the man you've harbored adoration towards.

You were finally gonna confess.

"I want you."

The simple words that held so much weight filled the space between you both.

A sigh in response. Oh no. You already knew what was coming, but you hoped to any deity or god from above that it wouldn't turn out this way.

"Kid, you're way too young for me." The smoke blowing past his lips wafted through the stiff air, his scar pulling at the corner of his mouth in dismay. "If you were older maybe I'd consider it. Wouldn't bet on it though, since you're such a pain in the ass to deal with."

You let his words hang momentarily, trying to come up with a sufficient rebuttal. You knew he was only playing when he said you were a pain to deal with but it still stung your heart to hear it coming from him. But you weren't gonna give up that easily. You've had a crush on this man ever since he moved into the neighborhood years ago!

What started out as innocent puppy love slowly built its way into this desire, stemmed deep at the heart the older you got. You'd watch as he invited women into his home late into the hours of the night, clinging onto him like a leech in a body of lakewater. God, how you wish it was you he'd have brought into his home on those late nights. Lustfully gazing down at you with promises of this being the best you'll ever have, one you'd be thinking back on until the day you die.

He knew exactly just how much you craved for his touch. It wasn't hard to see that he felt the same, you could see it in the way he'd glance in your direction whenever you purposely wore something revealing, hoping to catch his eye. He told you that you shouldn't wear things like that at your age around men, that they were dangerous, intentions impure. As if he wasn't one of those men he was warning you about. But despite it all, he always looked the other way. Kept a boundary of barbed wire up, no way of climbing through. Frankly, it was annoying.

You hate when people play hard to get.

"So...you mean once I'm 18, you'll take up my offer?" If he couldn't get with you because you were 'too young' then surely he'd concede if you were legally an adult...right?

"Not exactly what I said, but sure," Taking one last final drag of his cigar, he stomped it out onto the pavement, sharp eyes gazing at you discerningly one last time before turning the other way.

"Whatever gets you off my case."

That was the last time you spoke with Toji and almost 2 years have gone by since then. The rejection after the confession hurt no doubt, but the avoidance of Toji towards you afterwards, hurt like salt to a fresh wound.

You rarely saw him after that, suddenly out for weeks to months at a time for work. Sometimes he'd come by when he was free and have idle chats with your parents any time they saw him down the neighborhood. Not bothering to spare a polite greeting or glance in your direction whenever you were present. What used to be a strong bond between family friend and their doting daughter, having met him at an early age, quickly turned awkward and tense, distance overtaking whatever there once was.

You regret talking to him that night every single day.

Unfortunately, you couldn't bring back the past and fix your fuck up. On the other hand, the days of being immature and bratty were long gone. Having been replaced by someone more mature and less dense.

Living off pre-packaged noodles and staying up till 6 am finishing up assignments for your university classes due the next hour, does that to a person you suppose.

Now with winter break finally having rolled around the corner, you were able to get that good night's sleep your exhausted ass had been craving for. And the home cooked meals your mother had waiting for you was certainly appreciated as well.

Lugging your bags up the front steps to your parents' quaint home, you took a quick look at the classic 'welcome home' mat under your feet that you were sure still hid a key underneath. Lifting the corner of the mat your suspicions were confirmed.

You'd think they'd realize how unsafe this could be one of these days.

Before you could place the key through the silver lock, you were instead met with the distinct sound of hard, oak wood doors being unlocked and swung open.

"Baby, you're finally home! Get in quickly, come on now." Your mother hastily ushered you in, calling over your father to help carry your bags further inside the warmth of your home. The key you held was quickly dropped on the small table near the entrance, and the door kicked shut. The signature smell of a vanilla sugar cookie candle being burnt filled your nostrils, the rest wafting through the air. Anyone would think your family baked with the way they always seem to choose that particular scent regardless of season or weather. Further glancing around, you watched your family's pet cat prance towards you, its furry face wide eyed and complaining to be held. You swear he acted like a dog sometimes.

Guess some things never change.

You just hoped that would've stayed true for a certain someone.

Before you had any more time to dwell on it, you were taken out of your thoughts by the mention of the name you had barely begun to ponder over.

'Speak of the devil', you sighed.

Walking over to the living area, you followed your father picking up your cat on the way, butting in, "Hm? what was that?"

"You remember Toji right?" Nodding your head, your father continued. "We invited him over for dinner tonight."

You paused in your step. "What? Why?" The confusion in your voice was surely noticed. You couldn't exactly say you were unhappy, hell you felt giddy at just the mention of his name, but you were still hung up on the past and weren't ready to face the man that blew off your poor naive, little heart. If you saw his handsome face in person again that's been embarrassingly haunting your dazed mind whenever you're busy writhing and whining atop your soft, cozy sheets—at that dinner table, you might just take the 2 hour car ride back to campus dorms.

You were just a pussy like that. One that couldn't face the culprit of those lingering feelings that had never ceased to falter throughout the years, dead in the eye.

The two quietly glanced at each other at your sudden change in demeanor, eyebrows raised. Before he could continue your mom piped up first, "What do you mean by 'why'? You haven't seen each other in so long. He misses you and I'm sure you two would like to catch up."

"Misses you" You swear your heart might've actually stopped beating. In what world would Toji Fushiguro have missed their friends young daughter after being told straight to their face that they wanted him to fuck her.

"He..misses me?" It sounded a little unbelievable saying it outloud.

"Mhm, after you left for University he asked about you a couple times, wondering when you'd be back to visit," Turning around to walk into the kitchen to get started on dinner, she smiled over her shoulder at you once more, "You must've really left an impression on him."

Nervously laughing you settled your cat down, watching him stride over to sip some water from his bowl.

"Yeah..quite some impression alright."

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Okay. Okay it's fine. Yeah you haven't seen him in years but it's fine! He's just coming over for dinner. You'll greet him with a friendly smile, he'll ask how you've been- or shit, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll just ignore you again like he's already done. Toji mentioning to your parents that he misses you was probably just a misunderstanding and he meant to say the weather has been misty- yeah. Totally plausible.

"What the hell am I doing.." Taking a once-over to look yourself in the mirror, you just finished applying the finishing touches to your makeup, wiping off any excess gloss at the corner of your lips with a q-tip for a sharp finish. Was the gloss necessary given the fact that it was going to be smudged off during dinner anyway?

The answer was yes. Yes It was.

Just because you were having a small dinner that was probably gonna be awkward as hell with a man you've been wanting- didn't want to see, shouldn't mean you couldn't at least look cute.

A sudden faint sound of muffled talking took you out your inner monologue. Putting away your array of makeup displayed on the varnished wood countertop of your vanity, you walked over to the door pressing an ear against it trying to discern what was being said.

'Hm sounds like there's someone else down there..' quietly poking a head out into the hallway you just barely made out a deep yet familiar voice before quickly being startled by your mother calling out your name.

"Hon, come down and greet Toji!"

Fuck. "C–Coming!" straightening up, you calmed your blazing nerves, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of awkward tension that your parents luckily knew nothing of. Bless their complete oblivion.

Walking out into the hallway and down the stairs your eyes immediately locked onto Tojis, gaze shyly looking away and focusing onto nothing in particular. You were better off staring at something near him than at him directly.

Approaching towards where they stood, you tried your best to look as confident as possible. You're a woman now. Not some doe. At least that's what you feel like telling yourself at this moment, as you pick at your nails. Standing straighter, you stood next to your parents, watching as they finished up their talk.

You haven't had a proper conversation with Toji since, well...that night. Not counting the usual greetings you had exchanged with him in the past when you saw each other after. If you could even call it that. If a glance of bare acknowledgement was considered a greeting, then sure. Yet here you were right in front of him, determined to set things right. You had to confront him, it was the only way you'd be able to heal the wound of the past and maybe, even let go.

But first, you'll have to actually talk to him.

Deciding to finally look up at Toji, you were able to make out his features more clearly. He hadn't changed much since you last saw him, still very much tall, and his ever so brooding presence never waned. His jaw was somehow even more defined than before, and he was still rocking the same haircut as he always did.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it I guess.

Overall, he looked good. Better. The best. As he most likely always will be in your eyes.

And you're so lost in your own thoughts that you don't even notice Toji looking down at you in the corner of his eye, trying to hold back a smirk that's beginning to creep up. Silly you, ogling him so openly in front of your own parents. Not like they bothered to ever notice though.

Hearing the three of them laugh about something pulled you away from your stupor, and your attention was immediately latched onto Toji who was the first to speak.

Hopefully he didn't notice you being a creep.

"It's been a while, huh? You still remember me?" You know he's only teasing by asking if you still "remembered" him. The old you would've sassed him up for asking something silly like that, but you don't know if its a good idea to get ahead of yourself and start pulling on his leg this early on.

So you opt for the safest response.

With a polite smile on your lips, you shrugged your shoulders, "Of course. It hasn't been that long."

Toji stared at you for a moment. Shit. Did he not like that answer..?

Then you felt something warm come into contact with the top of your head; it was Toji's hand. Toji was petting you. Or more like ruffling your hair—same difference.

"You barely changed."

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding. A moment longer in silence and you don't think you'd be able to hold back the urge to run back up those stairs, slam the door shut behind you, and scream into your pillow.

Why were you so nervous!? You're never nervous when it comes to Toji.

'What's up with me??''

Regardless, you felt yourself being left annoyed at his comment. Disappointed that he probably still saw you as some kid despite not certainly looking or being one at all for that matter.

Too bad you didn't realize he meant it in a different way.

Even if you tried to hide it, Toji could still make out the way you held your hands behind your back, most likely fidgeting with your nails. Seems you've changed, the thought amusing him. The old you he knew would've pounced on him by now, batting your lashes, staring up starry eyed thinking you were being discreet about it.

Nothing gets past him, especially not when you make it so obvious. One thing that hasn't changed though, are the clothes you seemed to purposely wear around him, and him only.

The moment he saw you walk down those stairs, he knew you had him wrapped around your finger all over again. The too short skirt and see-through slip on you adorned leaving almost nothing to the imagination, if not for the cream colored cardigan you wore hiding the slivers of skin, leaving him wanting more of what was underneath.

'What a damn tease..' But Tojis eyes averted by the time your parents noticed your descend towards them. He didn't exactly want them seeing him ogle their daughter so openly.

Before any one of you could say anything more, your mother cut the greetings short. "Great, now that we're all finished reuniting again, let's start eating before the food gets cold."

Walking a little ways behind you, Toji catched the way your hips swayed as you walked. Whether you were doing it intentionally or not, he couldn't say for sure.

But one thing he was sure about, is that you were going to give him one hell of a hard time.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

The rest of dinner went by quickly. Once you were all seated, your parents and Toji had no problem talking with each other. They were busy discussing something, but your mind was too occupied to actually listen in on what they were saying. Too busy playing around with the food on your plate as your mind ran aimlessly, and foot twitching anxiously.

The night could've been worse. Really, it could've. Sure you haven't made any progress yet, but you'll get there! Overall, nothing particular happened. Except for one thing.

Toji couldn't stop looking at you.

- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

Before you knew it, dinner had come to an end. Toji had already taken his leave and bid you all a 'thanks for the meal' and a goodbye. Finally. Now you can slip away to your room, wipe off your makeup, and lay awake in your bed as you regret everything you could've said and done tonight but didn't without anyone noticing–

"Where do you think you're going?" There stood your mom, looking at you expectantly. Were you missing something?

"To my room, why?"

"Didn't you hear at dinner?"

'Was I supposed to hear something at dinner?'

"No, hear what exactly?"

"Tomorrow, you're going out to buy some decorations for a party we're having."

A beat of silence. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as you wondered why the hell you would be having a party.

"Mom… I appreciate that you want to host a welcome back party for me, but there's really no need to." It's sweet that they missed you this much, but you weren't one for parties that were centered around you.

She laughed. "No, no, not a party for you. I know you don't like that kinda stuff,"

Oh. Nevermind then.

"Our annual winter get together. We do it every year with the rest of the neighborhood and we're the ones hosting this time. Have all those cup noodles gotten to your head and you suddenly forgot?" She shook her head in disappointment.

Low blow, mom.

"I didn't forget! I just...didn't know you'd be the ones doing it this year."

"If you were actually paying attention at dinner then you'd have heard."

"Sorry. So, tomorrow you want me to go out and buy decor right? Cool, I'll go after lunch."

Thinking that was the end of that, you began to trudge your way towards the staircase. Already almost at the top when your mother called out to you once more.

"Oh! and Toji's accompanying you."

Yup, definitely going to scream into your pillow tonight.

4K notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year

Note

JADE!!! WE WOULD LOVE TO SEE ANOTHER SPENCER X BADASS GIRL!!! maybe its a quiet day and reader & spencer just chilling and joking around in their little world and the others just watching ahahah

thank you for your request babe, I would love to write more for this pairing if u have requests!! ♡ fem!reader

"What are they doing?" Emily asks, a fierce whisper that carries across the jet.

"I think they're flirting," JJ whispers back.

Hotch closes the case file in front of him. There's nothing left to do until they get home but sit here in each other's company. You and Spencer seem to have realised this before anybody else, shoulder to shoulder, a book in his hands. He's slouched with his leg crossed over his knee, taking up the majority of the couch. You seem content to take the brunt of his weight while giggling softly by his ear.

Hotch can't lie, he's genuinely startled by your behaviour. It's the total opposite of your usual affect.

"That's not flirting," Rossi says without looking up.

Hotch has to agree. You brush a stray hair from Spencer's shoulder and he doesn't so much as blush, turning the page to show you something particular. You lean in closer still, hand resting now on his shoulder.

That's not flirting, that's way beyond it. Spencer is practically in your lap, and you —wouldn't hug anyone on your birthday, didn't tell them where you were for four days when you had appendicitis until you were forced, cold, lone wolf you— look like you're about to cuddle him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

You're in your own little world.

"I stopped expecting her to push him off twenty minutes ago," Derek says, as seemingly unbothered as Rossi.

"Don't tell me you knew about this," Emily says incredulously.

"They've been going on dates."

"They what?"

You laugh happily at Spencer's side, pointing at a specific line with the tip of your fingernail. "When asked, Moroscova said that the length of his stay was an act of perjury," you read.

Spencer laughs at your quotation, sharing a secret smile with you. "That haircut is an act of perjury."

Your eyes glow with a look Hotch knows well. Haley looked at him like that for years. "Thanks for reading this with me. I know I'm slow."

"You're not slow. I'm really fast. There's a difference."

It's the definition of young love, Hotch thinks, all those heartfelt reassurances disguised as brags, stolen touches, Spencer's knuckles stroking up and down your outer thigh.

He turns back to his book and you stare at the side of his face. It's a little heartbreaking. Hotch knows if things don't work out between you, you'll take it hard. Your affection for Spencer has always been in the silent things, undulating, until lately: you listen to him talk when nobody else has the patience, what must amass to hours and hours of stories and statistics; you defend him at every turn, in every precinct in every city; when Spencer has a hard time, you refuse to rest until he feels better. The case before this one, the unsub beat you across the face with the handle of his gun, and you leaned out of the ambulance with your eye glued shut to make sure Spencer got anaesthetic before his stitches. You look at him like he's hanging the moon in real time.

"Okay, that's too much," Derek says. Hotch detects a hint of brotherly affection in it, but mostly disgust.

You raise your gaze from Spencer's chest, the breezy smile playing on your lips flattening into a hard line. You send Derek your fiercest glare, him being the first in your line of sight, and Emily gets the shock of her life when you turn and narrow your eyes at her, too.

Emily smiles widely. "Hey, how's it going over there?" she asks.

"Why are you guys looking at me?" you ask.

"You can't guess?" Derek says.

"If I could guess, I wouldn't have asked."

Hotch gives you a disapproving look. Tone it down, Agent.

"I just wanna know what's so interesting," you say, leaning into indifference.

Spencer looks up from his book. "What?"

"Nothing," you say, your tone gentler in a capacity only profilers might notice. "Don't worry about it."

Spencer sits up and your eyebrows pinch down. Hotch wants to save it and he also doesn't get paid enough. Everything works out in the end, he thinks, not believing himself even slightly as he gets up to make a cup of coffee at the back of the jet. Your sullen tones hardly reach him through the curtain and over the sound of the hot water kettle, Spencer's puzzled reassuring even quieter.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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arminsumi · 10 months

Text

I Want to Kiss You (4)

You and Satoru falling in love despite a language barrier.

2.6k

★ Synopsis : struggling to communicate on an aquarium date.

★ Pairings : fem reader / Gojo さとる / Geto すぐる

★ Content : fluff, lighthearted love triangle

↺ Ch.3 | M.List | arminsumi | Library

すぐるのアパート 9:15 AM

A soft redness dusted Satoru’s face as he vigorously washed his face with a foaming cleanser in the bathroom. Early morning. Very hot. Peak summer heat. And on this stark-bright day he had plucked the courage (thanks to Suguru’s motherly encouragement) to ask you out on a date. You’d agreed with a smile – and the image of your smiling response lingered in Satoru’s head while he got ready for the date.

Satoru looked in the mirror at his reflection and noticed that the corners of his lips were naturally upturned; he was at a genuinely happy point in his life. Ever since you came to visit Japan, Satoru felt like an invisible weight lifted from his shoulders. One he wasn’t aware of before it lifted.

He blinked at his reflection, white lashes quivering.

私は大丈夫に見えますか？

Do I look okay?

He checked himself out in the mirror, observing how his white t-shirt draped over his shoulders.

私はカジュアルすぎる服装ですか？

Am I dressing too casually?

He dabbed cologne on his neck and sprayed it under his shirt to trap the minty-vanilla scent.

When he entered the living room, Suguru took one inhale of Satoru and his nose immediately scrunched up at the minty scent that hit his nose.

「ミント？」 he fake-belched, "Better vacate the area." he said dramatically and went to the kitchen, which was not divided by a wall but just a ceiling-tall shelf panel that you could peer through.

You and Satoru laughed at Suguru's overreaction.

Mint hopped on one of the shelves near Suguru, and then he extended the joke by freaking out.

「私はミント地獄にいる。」 he said. "I'm in mint hell."

Satoru giggled and tormented Suguru with his cologne by trying to trap him in a hug — Suguru was having none of it. Their banter settled down after a few minutes.

Mint was just observing and swishing her tail peacefully the whole time.

"Satoru should put that cologne on you, Mint, then I'll hate you even more!" he cooed condescendingly at the Turkish Angora.

You laughed, "Suguru, it's no wonder Mint hates you, if you speak like that to her."

"Hey now listen — this cat is the reincarnation of a murderer that tried to kill me in a past life." Suguru said dramatically, "See that evilness in her eyes? She's out for my blood."

電車 / Train / 10:00 AM

Satoru used the translator to talk with you during the train ride to the aquarium.

At some point, a translation of one of your replies made him laugh so hard that tears formed in his eyes.

Google translate felt emotionless, so Satoru brought out his phrasebook and tried to speak with it. It looked personalized with his notes. You could tell that he’d consulted the book many times already in the past.

You wanted to look at it closer, so you asked, “Can I?”

“Mhm.” He handed it to you.

You flipped through the phrasebook and read the section names. Basics. Practical. Social – there was a big red circle drawn around a particular phrase on page 140. The romance section.

Satoru’s cheeks burned. He felt a bit caught. He gave you an awkward but cute smile.

What he had circled in the phrasebook was;

キスしてもいい？

The train stopped at the station you had to get off at. The lady over the speaker sounded so sweet that your attention was drawn away from the phrasebook. Satoru surreptitiously took it from your hands and packed it into his backpack.

The two of you boarded off the train, bumping shoulders at the doors and laughing about it.

Satoru squinted because of the sun, and you distinctly remember looking at him and thinking about how attractive he was when he squinted.

Because the sun was blazing so bright, Satoru hovered his hand over the back of your head to make sure you didn't heat up too much while you and him walked to the aquarium.

水族館 / 11:00 AM

Satoru felt a self-conscious feeling kick in when the two of you bumbled through the aquarium together.

Hand gestures flew between the two of you. You shared confused faces which were followed by laughter. It felt like you were playing charades at some point.

Sometimes Satoru would say "uhh" for so long after saying one English word that he'd start smiling and laughing at himself.

He'd end his incomplete thought with "You know?" and you'd shake your head and start laughing, "I have no idea." you'd reply.

Then Satoru would use google translate, practicing each word under his breath.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

While waiting for you by the aquarium bathrooms, Satoru practiced asking "Can I kiss you?" over and over. He paced around and muttered under his breath.

It's not that he couldn't pronounce it, it's just that he wanted it to sound less stiff and more emotional.

I want to kiss you with desperation, not I want to kiss you with dullness.

An old man who looked about ninety blinked at Satoru and wondered why this young man was pacing back and forth while practicing romantic English phrases.

("What are you doing?") he asked Satoru.

("Learning to speak English.") Satoru replied.

("Why?") the old man asked.

("Because the girl I like speaks English. I'm waiting for her right now.") Satoru replied.

("Well, I teach English. I don't think you should ask to kiss her, that’s too direct. If the universe wills it, you two will fall into a kiss and it will just happen.") he advised.

("I don't really believe in the stars bringing people together. I want to kiss her whether or not the universe wills it.") Satoru said.

("You've got it all wrong. The stars really do bring people together. I'm sure the same stars that brought her to Japan will also bring her to your lips.") the old man said.

("... are you a poet, too?")

You came out of the bathroom. The ethereal aquarium light lit your face beautifully.

("Oh... is that girl the one you are in love with?") the old man noticed you.

Satoru looked at you. His cheeks warmed up.

("Yes, that's the girl I'm in love with...") he replied dreamily.

("It's no wonder. Well then, good luck.") the old man said.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

It felt like the aquarium was a whole other world, like a paradise in a bottle corked shut, one which only you and Satoru could exist within.

He watched the spin of aquatic life with you in silence. You seemed captivated.

The back of his hand brushed against your arm.

Satoru's hand trembled a little.

背が高すぎるんです。

I'm too tall.

Satoru had to be tactful about it.

どうすれば彼女の手を握ることができますか?

How can I hold her hand?

He awkwardly bent his knees a little to shorten himself.

Then he poked the back of your hand softly to get your attention, blatantly hinting to you that he wanted to hold your hand.

So you offered him your hand and then he seized it like a treasure being presented to him. His lips grew into a smug smile.

You saw him go red in the face, even in the dimness and blueness of the aquarium light.

You and him gently held hands and stood in front of the tall glass of the jellyfish enclosure.

つまりこれが愛なんだ？

So this is love?

The room was dark blue, but the enclosure lights lit up the see-through sea creatures with a magenta color.

It felt like a sight you could stare at forever and ever and always be at peace; magenta jellyfish pulsing then drifting then pulsing again, their bell-shaped bodies and tentacles behaving like a chiffon dress in water.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

クラゲのようにあなたの愛の中で漂いたい。

I want to float in your love like a jellyfish.

You and Satoru held hands as if your hands were glued to each other.

While exploring the map in the afternoon, he stayed at your side like a magnet. If he lost your hand, he immediately searched for it and held it again.

The summer heat got intense. He sweated more than you did, but even still looked attractive and fresh. To cool off, you and him searched for cold things to eat.

"Uhhh — do you want to eat shave ice?" he asked.

"Mhm, sounds good." you nodded.

So the two of you went on a long, long search for someone selling shaved ice and eventually found one. You zoned out a bit while enjoying his voice.

Satoru mentally kicked himself because even though he thought he was prepared for this date with you, he forgot to bring extra money. He could only get one cup of shaved ice.

"What flavour?" he asked you.

You told him cherry, so he got cherry.

The two of you shared it. It made his lips go red and cold.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

真っ赤で冷たい唇でキスできたらいいのに。それは冬のキスのようなものでしょう。

I wish I could kiss you with red, cold lips. It would be like a winter kiss.

The train shuddered.

You'd noticed that Satoru always kept his knees together when sitting next to you — to give you space. But now after holding hands, closeness was being chased and chased; the both of you scooted closer together and tried to translate your thoughts to each other with the phone.

Satoru typed in:

JPN : 私たちはくっついています。

ENG : We are stuck together.

You chuckled softly in response. His eyes always lit up and he really relished in making you laugh, even if it was just a soft chuckle.

You replied to him:

ENG : you are warm.

JPN : あなたは暖かいです。

He replied to you:

JPN : そう、あなたのせいで。

ENG : yes, because of you.

You replied to him:

ENG : are you flirting?

JPN : ��チャイチャしてるの？

Satoru gave you a cheeky smile.

JPN : 私はいちゃいちゃしてます、はい。

ENG : I'm flirting, yes.

You smiled as he continued typing. His thumbs hesitated, like he was nervous about what he was about to type next.

Satoru's heart was beating harder and harder in his chest.

JPN : 頬にキスしてもいいですか？

ENG : ! NO CONNECTION

You both groaned.

The connection kept failing from then on, so the two of you laughingly attempted to communicate by using the outdated pocket phrasebook for the rest of the train ride home.

"Kiss...?" he tapped his finger on his cheek.

You thought he meant he wanted you to kiss him on his cheek, but he meant to ask if he could kiss your cheek.

So he malfunctioned when you leaned in and gave him a small but firm kiss on his left cheek. His ears and cheeks burned.

When you two stepped off the train, Satoru lingered behind you for a moment and grazed his fingertips over the place where you kissed and smiled to himself.

こんなに柔らかい唇。。。

Such soft lips...

すぐるのアパート 9:00 PM

The boys were talking about you at home while you were in the bathroom freshening up after the long, hot day out.

("Satoru, you're glowing. Did something good happen on the date?") Suguru smirked.

("She kissed me.") Satoru told him dreamily.

Suguru widened his eyes.

("She kissed you?!")

("Just on the cheek.") Satoru sighed, ("Her lips were so soft...")

("Were they now? I think you're exaggerating.") Suguru teased.

("I'm not exaggerating! Ask her for a kiss on the cheek, and you'll see; she has the softest lips ever.")

Suguru went quiet and pink in the face after Satoru suggested that he should ask you for a cheek kiss.

("Alright. I'll see for myself...") he mumbled.

⁕⁕⁕⁕

Come the evening, the three of you piled up like cats on the couch in the living room and watched an old movie together.

"Seems like someone's comfy." Suguru commented.

You smiled and looked at Satoru; he curled up against you with his noodle-like limbs and fell asleep mid-way through the movie. Your warmth had made him too drowsy and dreamy to keep his eyes open.

"You know, I was worried that we wouldn't have the same chemistry in real life as we've had through the screen." you said.

Suguru let out a breathy laugh and replied.

"Yeah, I thought it would be like that too. When I hugged you at the airport, though, I felt the same spark I felt when we first video-called." he said.

You felt your cheeks warm up the more he talked.

"...spark?"

"Huh?" he raised his brows.

"You said you felt a spark between us?"

Suguru's heart throbbed. He didn't seem to know how to respond, but then he decided to act a fool.

"Oh, did I say spark?"

"Yes, you did! You said spark, I heard you." you playfully smacked his shoulder.

He started grinning so he hid his mouth with his hand.

"Well, I think you heard wrong." he teased.

You looked at each other in silence.

"... hey, Suguru?"

"Yeah?" he replied breathlessly.

He withdrew his hand from covering his mouth and his face became serious.

"What were you two talking about earlier? I heard my name being tossed around a lot. You can't keep gossiping behind my back like this!"

"Oh... earlier? We weren't gossiping. Satoru was boasting to me about how soft your lips felt on his cheek." Suguru said.

"Boasting? You seem jealous." you said.

"Don't prod at me now just because you think I'm jealous."

"I will absolutely prod at you." you teased.

"I'd rather you kiss me." he said.

"What?"

You looked at each other for a moment.

"Not like... on the lips." he backtracked.

"Oh."

"Satoru said I should ask you for a cheek kiss because I claimed he was exaggerating how soft your lips are."

"Well... he's not exaggerating." you teased.

"Oh yeah? I need proof."

"What kind of proof, Suguru?"

"Kiss me."

So you kissed his cheek very slowly.

He felt the press of your lips, and how damn soft they were, and thought to himself;

Shit. Her lips really are as soft as Satoru said they were.

When you pulled away, you asked "So? Are they as soft as Satoru claimed?"

"Soft enough." he teased.

"Soft "enough"?! What does that mean?"

"Soft enough to make me feel that "spark" again." he said.

"Huh?"

You looked at each other with wide eyes.

Satoru made a wakeful noise.

「うるさい。」 he mumbled, then snuggled into you like you were his pillow.

"Oh. We woke the cat." Suguru joked. 「おい、バカ。あなたは映画全体を通して寝ていました。」

「残念な。」 Satoru replied and let out a sleepy sigh.

"Okay, let's get to bed... it's late."

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

★ Tags

@miwanilla / @sukunasdirtylaugh / @coco-cat / @babydiamondblog / @mp3playerblog / @froufrousnowman / @lovesickramblingsofmine / @arminswifee / @instantmusico / @kaechannn / @sabo-has-my-heart / @yoonjinhusbands / @honey-i-will-come-back / @thirtykiwis / @satoruiloveu / @iamthedetective / @melaaaara / @xakilicious / @i-am-the-geek-overlord / @starrylibras / @beanluvsmilo / @kittytoru / @reese-is-right / @rains-mae / @c0pkiller / @baepsays / @hueanhdang / @fuck-imstillhere / @yourimaginaryfriiendd / @alwaysminhyuk / @andromidagalaxie / @vianna99 / @akumakitsune21 / @ducksdoughnuts / @itsnotmelo / @animechick555 / @hypernovaxx

Thank you for enjoying the story 💗

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transform4u · 3 months

Text

Mirror, Mirror on the wall...

Dylan, 32 years old and a rising star in the world of journalism, had finally achieved his big break after years of hard work. Now, he enjoyed a comfortable six-figure income, residing in a stylish one-bedroom apartment overlooking a serene park on Chicago's west side. He was known for his easygoing nature, a friendly demeanor, and a contagious laugh that invited others into his world. Dylan took pride in his caring disposition, always looking out for his friends and partners.

Despite his contentment, one persistent annoyance nagged at him: a particular guy on Grindr who seemed relentless in his pursuit. This individual, far from Dylan's type, exuded a flamboyance that clashed with Dylan's more reserved personality. His profile picture, donned in drag, irked Dylan every time it appeared on his screen. Yet, amidst his success and popularity, Dylan prided himself on being his own person—not conforming to stereotypes, but embodying a cool, composed image that he meticulously cultivated.

After a long day at work followed by a rigorous gym session, Dylan returned home to unwind. Just as he settled in, his phone buzzed unexpectedly with a message on Instagram—not from his friend Kyle about their usual happy hour plans, but from the persistent Grindr user. Irritated yet intrigued by the message's tone, Dylan hesitated before reluctantly opening it.

"Hey Dylan. It's clear now that you don't want to date me. And I'm totally fine with that. Maybe you think you're too hot or too cool or whatever to date me. But you've only lived one life. Hah. That's gonna change."

A doorbell interrupted his thoughts, drawing Dylan to the front door where a package wrapped in vibrant red packaging lay waiting. Curiosity overcame him as he brought it inside and unwrapped it, revealing a mirror shaped like a melting heart. Puzzled by its arrival and wondering if he had made a drunken purchase, Dylan decided to hang it on his wall despite its mismatch with his usual decor.

Upon hanging the mirror, Dylan discovered a small letter tucked within. Reading it aloud, he found himself drawn into an impulsive act—reciting the mirror's enchantment aloud, inviting a change he could not have anticipated.

Dylan stood in front of the mirror, mesmerized and slightly apprehensive, as the first effects of his impulsive incantation began to take hold. The air around him crackled with an electric energy, a sensation he could only describe as a tingling wave coursing through his entire body. It started subtly, a faint tremor in his muscles, like a dormant power awakening. He read a note:

"Dearest Dylan. I'm so happy you decided to hang up my mirror. I know how much you love to look at yourself. Hah. Well. Look deep into the mirror. And soon you love life will change. It's a going to be wicked fun. Just look at the mirror on the wall and speak aloud the following words…

Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Give me a life to be hated by all. Mirror, Mirror my face looking back at me. Give me the personality of someone I'd hate to be. Mirror, Mirror show my worst self. Mirror, Mirror change thyself" As he spoke the words aloud. The paper fell from my hands and the mirror glowed and glowed almost incasing my entire room. What had he done?

At first, Dylan relished the transformation. He watched in awe as his reflection morphed before his eyes. Muscles tightened and expanded, sculpting his physique into something that mirrored the fitness models he had admired in magazines. His abs became chiseled, arms bulged with newfound definition, and his biceps swelled with strength. It was exhilarating; a validation of the hours he had spent at the gym, honing his body to perfection.

But as the changes intensified, doubts crept into Dylan's mind. His initial thrill gave way to a growing unease. He remembered the words he had spoken to the mirror: **"Give me the personality of someone I'd hate to be."** Panic simmered beneath his skin as he realized the gravity of his request.

The mirror, now glowing ominously, seemed to reflect not just his physical transformation, but something deeper—an alteration of his essence. His reflection's smirk deepened, its eyes gleaming with a knowing malice. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," the mirror whispered, its voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down Dylan's spine.

As the transformation continued, Dylan felt an unnatural confidence surging through him, mingled with an unsettling arrogance. His once warm and inviting laugh took on a haughty edge. His friendly demeanor hardened into a dismissive smirk, and his generous spirit twisted into selfish impulses. The very traits he had prided himself on—kindness, empathy, humility—began to erode, replaced by a cold, calculating demeanor that he barely recognized.

Despite his growing discomfort, Dylan found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the mirror. It was as though he was watching a collision of his idealized self and his deepest fears, all brought to life by his reckless words. The mirror's reflection taunted him, mocking the person he was becoming.

In that moment of realization, Dylan knew he had to undo what he had set in motion. But the mirror held him captive, its eerie glow pulsating with an irresistible power. As he struggled against the creeping darkness within him, Dylan's heart sank with the weight of regret.

What had he done? And how could he ever return to the person he once was?

As Dylan wrestled with the unsettling changes in his demeanor, the transformation took an unexpected turn. The electric waves that had initially expanded his muscles began to reverse course. He felt a strange sensation of compression, as if his body was shrinking down, compacting itself while retaining the newfound strength and definition.

His arms, once bulging with exaggerated muscles, now tightened into a more refined and compact form. The exaggerated bulk softened, the lines of his physique becoming sleeker yet still maintaining a toned athleticism. Dylan's abs, previously sharp and defined, now settled into a leaner but no less impressive configuration. The transformation seemed to redefine his physical presence, sculpting him into a different ideal—a more compact, agile version of the muscular figure he had momentarily embodied. At first, Dylan didn't realize what was happening. His focus had been on the muscular changes wrought by the mirror's magic. But then, he noticed it: a gradual shrinking, a diminishment of his stature. Inch by inch, Dylan's height decreased, each moment bringing him closer to the ground until he stood at a diminutive 5 foot 4.

As his body underwent this metamorphosis, Dylan's skin tone deepened into a rich, bronzed tan. It was a stark departure from his natural complexion, now radiating with a sun-kissed glow that seemed to intensify under the mirror's eerie illumination. The mirror's magic continued to work its unsettling effects, altering not just his appearance but seemingly his very essence.

Dylan's gaze flickered down in shock as he noticed his shirt melting away, replaced by a garish gold chain draped around his neck. The chain, ostentatious and gaudy, clashed starkly against the more subdued attire he had preferred. It gleamed in the dim light of his apartment, a visible manifestation of the transformation's shift towards a persona he neither recognized nor desired.

The realization hit him hard. What had begun as a frivolous experiment had spiraled into something far more profound and irreversible. His reflection in the mirror now bore the mark of someone he might have once scorned—an exaggerated caricature of confidence bordering on arrogance, adorned with symbols of material excess that clashed with his previous understated elegance.

Fear and regret coursed through Dylan's veins as he struggled to comprehend the depth of the mirror's power. The once-inviting mirror now seemed to taunt him with each passing moment, its glow pulsating with a malevolent energy that mirrored the darker facets of his altered personality.

As he stood before the mirror, trapped in a transformation he couldn't control, Dylan's thoughts raced. How could he undo this? Was there any way to revert to the person he had been before his ill-advised invocation? With each passing second, the answer seemed to slip further from his grasp, swallowed by the insatiable hunger of the mirror's magic.

As the transformation continued, Dylan's mind began to fog up. His once-sharp intellect was dulled by a sudden influx of base desires and primal urges. The mirror's magic had not only altered his physical appearance but also rewired his brain, stripping away any semblance of rational thought or empathy he once possessed.

In its place grew an insatiable lust for women—their curves, their scents, their soft skin against his own hardened form. He found himself fixated on images of bikini-clad models and celebrities with impossibly large breasts and tight asses. His gaze lingered on every woman who crossed his path, imagining what it would be like to possess them in the most carnal sense possible.

His thoughts were no longer focused on intellectual pursuits or meaningful relationships; instead, they revolved around parties filled with alcohol and drugs where he could indulge in casual sex without consequence or commitment. The idea of settling down with one person seemed foreign to him now—a concept that held no appeal whatsoever in this new reality where pleasure was fleeting but easily attainable through superficial means alone.

Dylan's once-passionate love for men had been reduced to nothing more than a distant memory as he embraced this newfound heterosexuality wholeheartedly (or rather whole-mindedly). He found himself drawn towards masculine traits such as strength and dominance over feminine ones like sensitivity or emotional depth—qualities that were now deemed weaknesses by his transformed mindset.

As the transformation continued, Dylan's mind was flooded with more fuckboy thoughts. He found himself laughing along with the reflection in the mirror, which seemed to be enjoying his descent into shallow superficiality.

His flaws and memories began to change as well. His once-kind nature was replaced by a selfish and entitled attitude; he now believed that he deserved whatever he wanted without considering others' feelings or needs. His intelligence had been reduced to a basic understanding of popular culture and trends, leaving him unable to engage in meaningful conversations beyond small talk or gossip about celebrities.

The mirror erased any memories of Dylan's past relationships—both platonic and romantic—replacing them with fantasies about scoring hot chicks at parties or picking up women at bars using cheesy pickup lines learned from watching reality TV shows like "The Bachelor." His once-loving personality had been completely erased, replaced by an insatiable desire for attention from anyone who could provide him with temporary gratification or validation through social media likes or compliments on his physique which now included muscular abs but also featured excessive tanning.

As the transformation continued, Dylan became as shallow as possible. He wanted nothing more than to bang a hot chick who would make him feel like a real man. The image in his mind was that of a blonde bombshell with big boobs, toned abs, and an ass that wouldn't quit. She had to be tall enough for him to feel dominant over her but also petite enough for him to easily lift her off the ground during their passionate encounters.

Her personality didn't matter; all he cared about was how she looked on his arm at parties or how good she would be in bed (preferably multiple times throughout the night). He envisioned himself taking her out for expensive dinners before whisking her away to some exclusive club where they could dance until dawn while sipping champagne from flutes held aloft by waiters dressed in tuxedos.

The thought of waking up next to this perfect specimen of femininity filled Dylan with an almost primal desire—a need so strong it eclipsed any lingering traces of empathy or compassion he once possessed.

With his newfound confidence and shallow desires, Dylan mindlessly walked towards the nearest bar. He knew he would find plenty of women there who would be interested in someone like him—a tall, muscular guy with money to burn and a cocky attitude to match.

As he entered the dimly lit room filled with people drinking and dancing, his eyes immediately scanned for potential targets. Spotting a group of girls at one end of the bar, he made his way over without hesitation or any thought about being polite or respectful.

"Hey ladies," he said loudly enough for them all to hear as he slid onto an empty stool next to them, "what's up?" His tone was crude but laced with false charm as if this was something he did every night instead of being completely out of character for him just moments ago.

The woman he had addressed turned towards him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his appearance. "Not much," she replied curtly before turning back towards her friends and continuing their conversation.

Undeterred by her lack of interest, Dylan leaned closer to the group and spoke directly to the woman again. "So what brings you girls out tonight?" He flashed a fake smile that revealed a row of perfectly white teeth now slightly yellowed from too much alcohol consumption over the years.

The woman rolled her eyes but didn't respond right away, instead choosing to ignore him completely while sipping on her drink nonchalantly.

Feeling emboldened by his new persona, Dylan reached out and grabbed the woman's ass without hesitation or consent. She let out a surprised gasp but didn't move away as he expected her to do. Instead, she turned towards him with a look of amusement in her eyes that made his heart race faster than it had in years.

"Well aren't you just full of surprises?" she said playfully before taking another sip from her drink. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting someone like you to hit on me tonight."

Dylan grinned widely at this small victory, feeling more confident than ever before as he ordered himself another round at the bar while keeping one eye on the group of women across from him.

As the night wore on, Dylan found himself growing more conservative and homophobic. His new persona seemed to thrive on these negative traits, embracing them as part of his identity. He began making crude jokes about gay people, laughing along with his friends at the expense of anyone who didn't fit into their narrow definition of masculinity.

His once-open mind had closed itself off completely, leaving no room for empathy or understanding towards those different from him. Instead, he focused all his energy on maintaining an image that would impress others—a tough guy who wasn't afraid to speak his mind even if it meant hurting someone else's feelings in the process.

Looking into the mirror, Dylan saw a reflection of himself that he barely recognized. Gone was the thoughtful, kind-hearted man he once was; in his place stood Austin—a tall, muscular straight fuckboy with a cocky attitude and an insatiable desire for women.

Austin's hair had grown out slightly longer but still maintained its sleekness thanks to regular trips to the barber. His eyes were now darker and more intense, reflecting his newfound confidence and willingness to take risks without considering consequences or others' feelings. His clothing consisted of designer labels that screamed "money" while showing off just enough skin to be considered tasteful by those who shared similar tastes as him.

Fuckboy Austin was the perfect embodiment of shallow, straight masculinity. He had an impressive physique thanks to hours spent at the gym each week, but he didn't let it go to his head—he knew he could always do better. His wardrobe consisted of expensive designer clothes that fit him perfectly, showing off his toned abs and broad shoulders while remaining tasteful enough for any upscale event or club scene.

His personality was just as well-crafted as his appearance; he had a cocky attitude that made women swoon but also came across as arrogant when dealing with others who didn't meet his high standards for attractiveness or success. He loved nothing more than hitting on beautiful women at bars and clubs before taking them home for a night filled with passionate sex followed by morning-after regrets on their part, which only served to fuel Austin's ego even further.

Fuckboy Austin lived a life filled with meaningless hookups, expensive nights out at clubs, and endless self-improvement efforts to maintain his perfect physique. He spent hours each day at the gym, lifting weights and running on treadmills while listening to motivational speeches on his headphones. His diet consisted mainly of protein shakes and pre-workout supplements that he believed gave him an edge over other guys trying to score with the same women as him.

Austin was also quite popular on social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok where he shared videos of himself flexing in front of mirrors or giving workout tips for those looking to get into shape themselves. His follower count continued growing daily thanks largely in part due to his good looks but also because many found inspiration in seeing someone so dedicated towards achieving physical perfection.

As far as hobbies went, Austin didn't have any real interests outside of working out or picking up chicks at bars; however, this lack of depth didn't seem bother him much since it allowed him more time focus solely on improving himself physically instead wasting energy pursuing meaningful relationships or intellectual pursuits.

Fuckboy Austin's life revolved around one thing: himself. He spent every waking moment thinking about how he could improve his appearance, his social status, or his chances with the latest hot girl who had caught his eye. His days were filled with trips to the gym followed by hours spent on social media, where he would post pictures of himself flexing or posing in front of mirrors while wearing nothing but a pair of tight briefs.

His nights were even more action-packed as he would hit up various clubs and bars looking for new conquests to add to his ever-growing list of notches on his bedpost. He had no qualms about using cheesy pickup lines or playing mind games with women just so they would give him their numbers or agree to go home with him later that night. Once he had secured a willing partner (or two), Austin would shower them with compliments and gifts before taking them back home for an evening filled with passionate sex followed by morning-after regrets on their part (which only served as fuel for Austin's already massive ego).

Despite all this success, there was still something missing from Fuckboy Austin's life—a sense of purpose beyond superficial pleasures like material possessions and casual encounters. Deep down inside, he knew that there must be more out there than just endless parties and meaningless hookups; however, those thoughts were quickly pushed aside whenever another beautiful woman crossed paths with him at some trendy nightclub.

#gay to straight #fuckboy tf #transformation #male tf

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hanjsquokka · 17 days

Text

a hidden world.

han jisung × fem!reader — established relationship, fluff

summary — spending the weekend in the quiet intimacy of a log cabin in the forest with your boyfriend was a dream come true. an unexpected storm reveals something that wasn't part of your fantasy, something you never expected, even in your wildest dreams.

warnings — tooth rotting fluff, kissing

word count — 1.3K

author's note — hello hello everyone! i haven't had time to write a fluffy fic in a while. this can be read as a part two to this fic, but can also be read by itself! and here is hanji singing rewrite the stars which inspired these two fics <3

Jisung strummed his guitar, not in any particular tune as he tried to find the right note to start playing. His hair fell into his eyes, still damp from the shower he took earlier after the two of you fell into the lake while canoeing. You bit back a chuckle thinking back to the moment that happened a few hours ago. Your boyfriend was so confident about his fishing skills, only for both of you to end up taking a dip in the water fully clothed.

He must've heard you, because he looked up at you, a smile tugging at his lips but he tried to look annoyed. “Why are you laughing?”

“‘M not!” You couldn't hold back anymore and started laughing softly, your hands coming up to cover your mouth as Jisung playfully scowled at you. After a moment, you cleared your throat. “I'm serious. Very serious. You haven't met another person as serious as me.”

That made him crack a smile, shaking his head. “You're so dorky.” He looked back down at his guitar, adjusting the keys before he started to play. Rewrite the Stars. You would be lying if you said you didn't tear up, mostly because of his wonderful singing. It was so… beautiful. The way his body slightly swayed as he really got into the music, the small glances he gave you with a smile and as he continued for you.

Just for you.

Your heart was swelling as he continued to play, more and more until it was ready to burst at the seams from all the love that you held for for him. The ambience of the place you were in—in front of the cabin, sitting on foldable chairs around a small fire that warmed you from the cool evening air, fairy lights in the shapes of stars hung over you and the calmess that surrounded everything.

“And why don't we rewrite the stars? Changing the world to be ours…” Jisung played the final notes and stopped strumming, meeting your eyes with his big, doe ones. “How'd I do?”

“Perfect,” you said, getting up from the chair you were sitting in. Jisung placed his guitar next to him as you went over and sat in his lap. You let out a small, content sigh as you settled onto him, feeling his arms wrap around your body and holding you close to his chest. “As always.”

“You praise me too much,” he said with a laugh, kissing the side of your head, which made your stomach flutter. “Gonna give me an even bigger ego.” Jisung brushed the hair out of your face, twirling the strands around his finger as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek, making you giggle. “Mm, keep laughing like that, baby, and I'll wife you up this instant.” Even though you knew he was just teasing you, you couldn't help the blush that creeper up your neck or the way your heart skipped a beat. “Hey, why don't I teach you how to play?”

“Huh?”

“You wanted to learn, right? We have the time now.” He adjusted you in his lap so that your back was pressed up against his chest, your sock covered feet resting on top of his. Jisung picked up his guitar again and placed it in your lap, his chin resting on your shoulder as he guided your hands to the correct places on the instrument. He told you a few beginner points, like the notes of the strings and the keys, how to adjust the tone and play a note. You struggled, much to his amusement, grumbling along while trying to follow his words and him doing nothing to help by kissing the side of your neck when you were just about to get it right.

“My fingers hurt,” you mumbled, looking at your reddened fingertips.

“Oh, we can't have that now, can we?” He pulled your hands to his face and kissed each of your fingers. “There, you'll feel better in no time.” Both of you giggled, getting back into a comfortable position once he put the guitar down. The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, trapped in your own little hidden world, away from the prying eyes of other people. You could feel the vibrations of Jisung's humming, some jazz song that he'd been listening to frequently, against his chest, right next to your ears.

You were almost lulled into a peaceful nap.

Almost.

A crack of thunder boomed across the sky, making both of you jump. You blinked as a drop of water fell on your nose and another on your cheek. You were quick to get on your feet, putting on your slippers and gathered your stuff and his guitar and speed-walked into the cabin. Once those were inside, you came back out only to find your boyfriend still sitting on his chair in utter denial of the thunderstorm.

“It's raining? But rain wasn't on the forecast—” You stopped Jisung mid whine and pulled him to his feet and hurried into the cabin before you could get too soaked.

Inside, it was much warmer, making a pleasant tingle run through you. You tugged at the ends of the hoodie you were wearing, Jisung's obvious, he rarely let you wear your own clothes at times like this, and pulled off your muddy socks. Jisung was still sulky, making a big deal of pulling on the elastic of his sock and throwing it aside and then doing the same to the other foot.

He was still sulky when the two of you were tucked into bed later that night, huddled close to keep warm and safe as the rain pattered on the window.

For you, this was the epitome of comfort.

For Jisung, it was the biggest possible catastrophe that could happen in his life and other than whining and complaining about it, he wasn't letting you in on the root of his pettiness.

“‘s not fair! I picked this weekend because the weather forecast said sunny, sunshine and rainbows. Not gloomy, dreadful, sad rain,” he rumbled, pushing his face further into the crook of your neck, as if that was possible. You carded your fingers through his hair in an effort to calm him down, but it didn't work. “Stupid forecast. I knew I shoulda never trusted you.” He let out a huff and you almost laughed, picturing the frown he must've had on his face with his eyebrows scrunched up and his lips turned in a pout.

“It's just rain, Ji. It'll be fine tomorrow—”

“But I don't want the rain today!” You laughed at his tone. “Stop laughing at me!” His words made your body shake even more. “I hate you.”

“I love you too,” you managed to say through your giggles.

He was quiet for a few moments, letting your laughs die down before he spoke. “I had everything planned out. I was going to sing you a few songs and we would have s’mores and then you'd go feel geek mode over the constellations thinking I don't know anything, but jokes on you, I actually learnt a few of them. And then when you go on rambling about the story of Orion's belt, I pull out the ring and—” He stopped himself. You felt his face heating up as did your own.

Did he just—

“Now look what you made me do! I spoiled the surprise!” He let out something between a cry and a whine. “Damn you and your ability to make me say stuff ‘m not supposed to say.”

“You'll get another chance tomorrow,” you said quietly. Hopefully he couldn't see your flushed face or the heat of your skin or the way your palms became sweaty and your heart was going crazy in your ribcage. “I heard nothing.”

He lifted his head up to look at you in the eyes. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

He nodded before assuming his previous position.

“Why Orion's belt though?”

“Baby!” He stretched out the last syllable, kicking your legs with his. You smiled and pulled him closer.

Your happy place.

TAGLIST : @stayconnecteed @starlostastronaut @ta3baee @caitlyn98s @bbokari711 @oddracha @n1nme4r @dprkbyn @sleepyleeji @realrintaro @starlostseungmin @baby-stay92 @frequentlykit @cookiesandcreammy

comment/send an ask/dm me to be added or removed from the taglist 🩷 or fill out this form 🫶🏼

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star-crossed-sluts · 3 months

Note

I saw that you write for so many of my favorite fictional men and wanted to request something for Venom or Lucifer x fem Reader involving Micro/Macro and Toys if possible ^^

Unfortunately, I realized after receiving this that micro/macro is different from size kink and I'd put the wrong one on my list, but I took the chance to write the sappy, filthy Venom fic I've always wanted to <3

I'd also like to note reader is described as soft and plush, but also drowning in Eddie's shirt. This is not meant to alienate any particular body type, I simply choose to write Eddie Brock as the broadest mfer who needs shirts with multiple X's on the tag to accommodate his beefy shoulders.

Contents: 4.8k words, female reader, chubby reader coded, playful banter, monstrous tongue and penis, oral sex (fem receiving), clit pinching, size kink, kitchen counter sex, I love you's exchanged, tentacles, multiple arms, poly issues, healthy discussion of feelings after sex, multiple orgasms (fem receiving), coming inside, breeding kink, doggy style sex, aftercare, talk of proper after sex peeing, talk of UTIs, post-coitus cuddles

Minors DNI

You are responsible for your own media consumption

“You’re wearing our shirt.”

The plural pronoun sends a shiver down your spine despite the wet summer heat invading the apartment. Thick fingers run down your exposed neck and across your shoulder. “Yes,” you say, even though it wasn’t a question. You glance back just to be sure and see Eddie staring down at you. “It’s too hot.” It’s a warning as much as a complaint. It’s too hot to do anything.

“Poor little one.” The voice coming from your boyfriend’s lips wasn’t his, but it made your core throb all the same. “Precious thing doesn’t deserve to suffer.”

“No,” Eddie agreed. His hands rub firm lines down your arms and over your waist, playing with the excess fabric his shirt drowned you in. “No, my sweet-”

“Our!”

He huffed, face falling to the crook of your neck, arms wrapping tight like a band around your waist. Despite your urge to smother this frisky mood, you couldn't not comfort your love, fingers threading through his short hair. Hot breath washed over the tender skin, dull teeth scraping against you.

“I had you first.”

You pulled him off your neck, pressing your lips to his. His moans rumbled through you, mouth opening, practically begging for your tongue, but you pulled him back off.

“Of course you did, baby.” You could see him bristle, knowing Venom was surely making his displeasure known, and pulled him back in. Eddie dove eagerly for your lips, but you pressed him back, hands on his shoulders trailing down his chest as you nudged his nose with yours. “You two ever going to get along?”

“Yes,”

“No,”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” you giggled out, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. Before, that would settle him. Nights when you both knew he needed to be at the office in six hours but still got lost in each other, you would force yourself to be the responsible one. Tongues lapping behind teeth became soft and slow kisses that often missed, grazing the stubble on his chin or dancing across his eyelids. Your hands rubbing over his chest would settle him, leaving him limp under your touch as you worked out his trouble spots.

That was before the equivalent of a 21-year-old on Viagra was piggybacking in his body.

He picked you up like it was nothing, fingers cold on your bare hip where they sank into the plush fat, swallowing your squeak as he placed you on the counter.

“Sweetheart,”

You knew that voice. Even half garbled with another man’s, you knew that voice.

“Baby, I'm so hot,” you pleaded, even as your nails raked down the back of his neck to make him purr against you.

“Yes, you are,”

Ah, fuck it.

“Shirt,” you demanded, tugging at his collar. His desperate scramble to get it off made your lips curl against his, lapping your tongue into his mouth to make it even harder on him: to hear him groan like you were hurting him.

He had to pull away to get the fabric over his head. When he pushed back in half a second later, his tongue hit the back of your throat.

They practically dripped saliva down your throat, swallowing every sound you made as you choked on their thick tongue. Your boyfriend’s lips were suddenly cold and slick against your own, his hands bigger and sending chills through your overheated body as they felt their way up your shirt. Growls poured into your mouth, big palms finding your bare tits - cupping reverently, letting the soft fat fill their palms, lifting them off your chest.

“Sweet girl pretends not to want us,” they muttered, pulling their tongue from your throat to taste the sweat beading down your neck, letting you pant into the hot apartment, trying to calm your pulse as it throbbed against their tongue. “But you strut around naked under our shirt?”

You took their wrist in response, dragging their thick fingers down, down, over your soft stomach - having to tug them along as they tried to follow your stretch marks instead - until they found their way between your wet folds. You let a smug grin spread your lips, even if the noise rumbling out of them said you’d pay for it. “I always want you,” you admitted, sighing at the soft pleasure as those slick fingers pet over your puffy folds. “I’m just an adult who can manage myself.”

Eddie came back to you, performing a scorned boyfriend with a dramatic gasp. “How dare you,” he accused, nipping at your plush bottom lip. “I manage myself just fine.”

“Yeah, I can see-” You squealed, high-pitched and mortifying and totally not your fault since he’s the bastard that pinched your poor clit. Your fist came down on his shoulder. “Asshole!”

“Hey, Vee did it!”

“Did not!”

“Oh, you’re such a little-”

“Lord,” you griped, pushing his hand away. Two distinct voices whimpered at the loss, the black slime-like substance that made Venom’s body swirling over Ed’s as they fought each other for control, Eddie’s eyes flashing white then back to your beloved bluish gray. “All right,” you decided finally. “You two need to learn to cooperate before someone gets caught in the middle! I’ve got too many sensitive squishy bits to let you past second base if you’re going to get pissy in the middle of things.”

Oh. Oh. Oh, you may have fucked up. You could practically see the will to live evaporate off both of them at the mere prospect of a world without your body. Venom’s goo turned watery, nearly dripping off of Eddie’s skin - as if he wanted to make sure you knew just how heartbroken you’d made him. And Eddie! Your poor boyfriend’s perfected the sad puppy look, big glossy eyes and a desperate rasp to every breath.

Damn it, why does he look so hot when he’s pathetic?

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you, sweetheart,” he stressed, nudging his nose against yours - a meek attempt to get you to forget anything that didn’t involve him being buried in your thighs.

“I’d eat every soul on this pathetic planet before bringing you anything but pleasure.”

“Very romantic, both of you,” you assured, carding your fingers through Eddie’s hair. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, you gently stroked Venom where he was bubbling to the surface on your boyfriend’s cheek. Both men leaned into your touch, nestling into your palm like it was home. You gently guided them back to your lips, laying soft kisses over their face. “Can you be good for me?”

“Mmm, I can be so good to you, sweetheart, you know I can.”

An eager grin spread from their lips to yours, sharing a wet kiss before you tapped their shoulders, nudging them down. “Show me?”

You may as well have offered them the world. In a way, you have: you’ve offered yourself. They gladly dropped to their knees, open-mouthed kisses pressed to your inner thighs, climbing higher and higher as you spread your legs for them. Neither was one to tease, and it was barely a beat before you had to brace your hands on the countertop behind you as their long, slick tongue lapped between your folds.

“So sweet,” they mumbled against your lips, easing their tongue into your pussy to lap at your inner walls. “Can we make you come, baby? Can you take several tonight?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but a soft suckle to your clit pulled a moan from your throat before you could get a word out. “Haa- several?” A deep growl rolled through their tongue inside you, curling to press on the spot Eddie knew by heart and Venom diligently took note of, working the thick muscle in your cunt. “Hey, I didn’t-” Their thumb - coated by Venom to ensure a slick glide - strummed your clit in soft circles. “Ah, fuck, Eds! Yes, I can take it!” One hand snapped to their head, fingers sinking into the soft locks to force them still as you rocked your hips against their face.

Normally, you wouldn’t consider yourself easy to please. Months of slow exploratory sex finally led to Eddie knowing how to bring you to the edge better than yourself.

Normally, your boyfriend’s tongue wasn’t nine inches and dripping thick spit, making a mess of your poor cunt he’d started fucking open on his tongue.

“Such a good pet for us,” they purred without moving their lips, Venom’s voice becoming more dominant. If you pried your eyes open, you could see him slowly hiding away the pale skin of your boyfriend: half his burly chest jet black and gaining bulk with every second. Their tongue and fingers faltered, and you watched their brows furrow.

“Be nice,” you reminded, but they didn’t pay you attention until you yanked on Eddie’s hair. “Boys,” you drawled, pulling your shirt over your head. Their movements immediately turned lazy: thumb falling short of your pearl, tongue slowing to soft laps at your walls as they practically gave you heart eyes. “Gotta be good.”

“We’re good,” they swore, even as Venom reached out with thin tendrils to pluck your nipples into peaks. “Just need our sweet girl to come on our tongue. And our fingers, and our cock-”

“So needy,” you teased, stroking down their sharp nose.

Maybe it was mean to tease your boyfriend so much. Maybe the alien cohabitating his body has a shorter fuse than Eddie. Maybe they were both so wound up from seeing you in Eddie’s shirt, sweat dotting your brow, the cusp of your ass peeking at them whenever you lifted your arms.

Maybe you should’ve thought of this before you were laid out across the counter.

Their tongue dove deeper into your cunt until you thought you couldn’t take anymore, then curled around and came back, double-stuffing your poor cunt to the brim, folds sticking together with your own slick and their spit. Their thumb on your clit became two thick fingers rolling the poor bud between them, pinching meanly at every squirm you gave - doing the same to your nipples as they slowly turned red under their touch.

“Cruel precious!” Your back arched off the countertop, scrambling for anything to hold onto as they started fucking you on their giant tongue. Sloppy, wet sounds of sex filled the kitchen, a burning heat crawling up your neck as they shamelessly worked you over, collecting your ankles in one hand to fold you in half. The burn in your thighs was nothing compared to the wave of pleasure every pinch, every thrust, every strum of your clit brought crashing over your body. It felt like you were getting your pussy stretched - guts rearranged - by the biggest cock on Earth, except a cock doesn’t lick and suck and roll inside you.

“Pretty thing always loves to tease,” they grumbled against you, their voice vibrating through your skull, filling your head with their words, making it the only thing on your mind besides the need to come. “Acting like you aren’t desperate for us.”

“Fuck, Eds-” A sharp pinch to your clit, the flat faces of even sharper teeth pressing warnings against your inner thighs. “Venom!” They rewarded you: a deep, pleased rumble running up your spine as the pointed tip of their tongue rubbed shapes into your g-spot. They let you writhe and buck against their face, tongue easily keeping you filled wherever you go. Your lungs were full of fire, sweat-slicked palms sliding on the counter as you tried not to fall completely onto their shoulders. “Please, Venom,” you whined, “make me come! You’re both so good to me! Don’t you want me to feel good?”

Oh, the guilt trip worked every time. Won’t you make me feel good? Don’t I deserve it? No matter how you dished it out, the result was the same. They melted under you - literally, in this instance, Venom dripping off Eddie’s arms - tongue working harder inside of you, pushing deeper, fingers rolling over your poor bud. Venom’s cruel pinching all over your breasts became a more loving caress, slick tendrils swiping over your stiff peaks like soft kitten licks.

“Want to make you come,” they rumbled, eating your cunt like it would be their last meal. “Always look so beautiful when you come. We'd be so happy to have you on our face all night.”

You could feel every nerve screwing up tighter and tighter as they worked you up, your body falling limp in their hold as they carried you over the edge. “Oooh, that sounds so nice, baby,” you breathed as you came back down. You reached out, a greedy smile pulling on your lips when their fingers laced with yours without a thought: your cutthroat journalist boyfriend and his brain-eating alien alike putty in your presence. On their knees to worship your body, eager to hold your hand at the slightest sign that you’d allow it. It made the words fall from your lips that much easier. “But I think if you don’t take me to bed this second, I’ll smother you.”

“Win-win,” they purred before they hurled you over their shoulder. “You should sit on our tongue after we fuck you.”

“Vee, I plan on being comatose after this.”

“That is acceptable as well,” they decided. Hands as large as your torso lowered you gently to the bed, arranging you on your hands and knees carefully - like a porcelain doll settled into her new home on the shelf. “Precious one?”

You gushed, chest swelling, lips spreading wide as your smile took over your whole face, fingers dancing across the sheets until their thick ones intertwined with yours. “Mmm, yes, my love?”

A deep purr rumbled from the barrel chest against your back, long tongue curling along your jaw as they formed their body to yours. Their wine-bottle thick cock spread your folds, rutting against your clit, letting you soak them in a vain attempt to make the entrance easier. “How do you want us?”

Fingers wrapped through yours, palms to the backs of your hands, chest to your back - they had you completely surrounded, encased in them. You turned your head, kissing their arm. “Take me,”

Your boyfriend was by no means a small man. Eddie’s always been broad. Thick arms, thick thighs, and a lovely thick cock that spread you like it was your first together all over again.

Venom’s weeping tip struggled to press past your lips. It took a few tries - a few, bullying thrusts - to fit the fat head into your cunt. The rest of their shaft went smoother, his hips rocking back and forth, fitting just a bit more into you each time as your slick covered them. Stretching your walls around their huge cock, head battering your insides as they stubbornly refused to let your body take anything less than all of them. It felt like Venom was purposely swelling his slick skin, just to make sure every sensitive nerve got some love - just to hear the breathless moans drip out of you like the sweetest nectar.

“Ours,” they gushed, hips beginning to properly piston into you, bouncing off your ass. Fingers occupied with yours, thin tendrils pulled off their torso and wrapped around your body, lifting you until your dangling fingertips barely brushed the sheets, pulled into Venom’s malleable chest like a waterbed. You’re sure they’d wrap completely around you if you’d allow it: envelop you completely, keep you so close there was no firm line separating your bodies.

Their tongue sank past your lips as if hearing you and agreeing, licking their way to the back of your throat. “Our pretty darling’s so sweet,” they purred, pressing their cock so deep inside you you thought they must be licking their own leaking slit inside you. “Should wear our shirt all the time: let us lick you up whenever we want.”

Your throat pulsed on their tongue as it slithered out, licking their own drool off your chin as you panted breathlessly. “You… haa… you both want to do that all the time, though.”

Their chest rumbled against your back with laughter at your expense, tendrils pulling you impossibly closer and splitting apart to tenderly stroke your clit and nipples. The steady thrum of another orgasm building ran through your nerves like electricity, but beyond that, a smile grew on your face. Because even with an alien tagging along, your boyfriend can’t leave an inch of your body untouched when he fucks you. He’s insatiable enough when he’s bound by anatomy, always kissing up your neck and rubbing your soft waist when he’s rocking his hips into yours - it only got worse when Venom got the green light to join in. Suddenly Eddie had a dozen hands, reaching everywhere to touch everything, almost as if it was for his pleasure instead of yours. Almost as if he wouldn’t - or couldn’t - come without your tits filling his palms and your gummy walls sucking on his cock.

“Can’t be helped,” they purred into your neck as your walls fluttered around them. Their hips stuttered against yours, pace changing to something slow and hard, dragging their fat cock against every nerve, punching their mushroomed tip to your cervix to try to force a path deeper into you. Their shoved their tongue back down your throat the second you opened your mouth to cry out, swallowing your moans before they even left your lips. “Such a pretty thing should always have her pussy filled. Lips kissed, hands held, fucked so dumb she goes limp on our cock-”

“‘Ee,” you struggled through their tongue and your own delirium, gasping for air when they pulled it out of your throat. “Vee,” you moaned, lightning running through your veins as your walls fluttered around them. You could hear the wet squelch that accompanied every trust, feel the creamy slick gathering at their base and running down your thighs, sticking to theirs with every solid connection their hips made against you.

“Yes, little one,” they cooed, nuzzling against the side of your head. Their hips hammered into you, efforts on your clit doubling as your whole body started to quiver so cutely in their arms. “Tell us what you need to come. We’ll give you anything, love, just tell us-”

“Kiss.” A heat washed over your cheeks and down your neck, but you persisted. “Eddie… kiss!” A sob fell from your lips when they remained poor and alone, throwing your hips back on his. “Eddie, please! Vee, give me my boyfriend!” Your dangling feet kicked through the air as the silence stretched, small growls traded back and forth in the same voice as the two argued with that special connection that only the two of them shared. The thought spurred you further, shaking your hands intertwined with theirs. “Baby, please!”

A slick noise, like tentacles separating, and the scruff of Eddie’s stubble raked deliciously against your neck, lips kissing up to your jaw just to tease you further. A desperate whine from your lips, and he finally caved, licking into your mouth like he could devour you entirely. His lips felt like home, washing over you so warm and soft even as he pounded into your sopping pussy - but then again, that was home to him. Fucking your soft body until you were limp and pliant for him, your usual banter dying on the tip of your tongue.

“Gonna come, sweetheart,” he breathed against your lips, flicking his chin to bump his nose with yours just to make you smile and giggle against him. “Gotta tell me-”

“Inside.” He started to smile, a laugh building in his chest as you freed one hand to weakly smack him for it. “I swear, Eddie, if you think about pulling out-”

“I know,” he soothed, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek as he chased his orgasm, Venom dutifully working your body to bring you yours, too. “I know, baby, you just wanna get filled up, yeah? ‘S why you need both of us, huh? You need us to fuck up your pussy ‘til you’re sore an’ swollen an’ fill you up with our cum?” Barely a beat before his fingers snatched the column of your neck, wrenching your head back against his shoulder. Your back arched with a deep groan, eyes going all misty as they pounded into you. “Tell me,” Eddie commanded, voice deceptively soft and sweet, like he was merely asking you for his morning I love you. “Gotta tell me how much you want it, or I’ll stop.”

“NO!”

Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes. “Fucking parasite doesn’t know how to talk dirty.” Another kiss to your cheek, his little grounding method: his assurance that his love for you can be chaste, too. “Teach him, baby?”

You kissed him back, lips dragging over his rough stubble. “Fill me up, handsome,” you nearly whispered, voice beginning to crack as he skillfully worked your body over. “Wanna feel you come inside me. Please?” A breath where you regained enough sense to question your words. Another and it was gone again. “Want a chubby baby with your eyes…”

Hands were suddenly everywhere. Two with a painful grip on your tits, kneading the soft fat. One on your hip and one with a handful of your stomach, both maneuvering your hips back as they thrust in, letting their fat cock breach further inside you than anything else ever has or will. On your neck, your clit, and your thighs, all groping and tugging and rubbing fast circles. You’re suddenly ass over head bent over, sheets getting caught in your mouth as they jackhammered into your poor, sopping cunt, thick cock pulsing maddeningly inside you.

“Precious little one wants to be BRED,” Venom hissed; terribly, awfully pleased as he overpowered Eddie to pound you the way you needed - the way your sweet boyfriend could never, for fear of hurting you. Venom had no such worries: you were a big girl, and if you wanted to get fucked and filled until his cum drips out of your folds, well, who was he to deny such a lovely creature? “Breathe, precious,” he coaxed, making another hand from his slick body to press your face further into the sheets. “Gonna give you everything you want,”

Moans died in your throat as they manhandled you into a deep arch, thick cock reaching even deeper without having to fight past the bulk of your ass, pussy practically on display for them to play with. God, you loved it.

Your orgasm hit like a brick wall, crashing over you, making you crumble in their arms. Their grip (all 12 of them) turned soft - tender, loving circles rubbed into your lax muscles, turning you into a pretty pile of twitching jello on the bed. They eased your hips down, letting you lay flat as they worked you through the high, hips pumping into yours at a steady beat. By the time they stilled, groaning low into your hair as they emptied their balls into you, your heart was pumping at that pace.

You smile when Eddie’s hands grab you, keeping you pressed firmly against his bare chest as he carefully rolled you both to your sides. Kisses pressed to your temple and soft cheeks between murmured praises. Whispers of my sweetheart, y’did so good, so gorgeous, filled the bedroom like a fog, rolling over your body like a warm bath.

A soft kiss to your neck. “Y’should pee, sweetheart,”

You huffed at him, grabbing his wrist to pull his arm tighter around you. “Five more minutes? I need my cuddle time…”

He pretended to groan, lying through his teeth about how he won’t feel bad when you give yourself another UTI, and he won’t even buy you cranberry juice, even though you know there will be a glass waiting for you with breakfast in the morning.

“YOU LOVE EDDIE MORE THAN ME!”

“JESUS!” You felt the wet slap against your hand before you realized you were swinging, Venom’s weird bobbing head taking the hit and simply returning to an inch in front of your face.

“WHY?!”

“Inside voice,” Eddie groaned, trying to shoo the symbiote away like a bug.

“I WILL NOT USE MY INSIDE VOICE! PRECIOUS FAVORS YOU!”

A groan built up in your throat as your high quickly faded, but you held it back: it couldn’t do anything good. “Vee,” you chided, “you know better than to talk to me like that.” It was something established almost immediately when he’d entered your relationship. He practically swoons at the memory of you throwing mugs at him while Eddie yelled at him not to let any of them shatter.

No, can’t get distracted!

He grumbles, laying his floating head on the pillow in front of yours. “... you love him more than me.”

It’s a statement. One that makes Eddie’s arms tighten around you, afraid of what the alien might do if he dislikes your response. He knows Venom wouldn’t do anything to harm him, but there may always be the underlying fear that you’ll become fair game one day. Randomly, or for whatever reason, he may wake to the taste of you on his tongue in a way he never wanted.

But you amazed him, just like you seemed to do every day. You pet the alien’s head just like you would Eddie’s when he was stressed, and you spoke without a hint of fear for the razor-like teeth in your face. “Love can’t be measured, Vee, you know that,” you chided, but your voice held no edge. The same way you would chastise your niece that you loved the bouquet she picked you, but maybe let’s not pick from people’s flowerbeds. “I don’t love him more.”

He bristled like a cat. “You always want him when we fuck you!”

“Yes,” you agreed gently, “because you hide him away.” You tapped the flat side of his teeth. “And you don’t have the equipment for kissing.” He still grumbled, but was all too eager to tuck into your palm when you offered it. “You have to be more understanding, Vee. You have no idea how long I’ve known Eddie. We were best friends, then he started courting me - took me on dates, brought me flowers - before we even started seriously dating, let alone living and sleeping together.” You stroked his smooth head. “So there’s gonna be a difference in how we interact versus you and me… okay?”

A stretch of silence where Eddie held his breath. If there was anyone who could talk down a brain-eating alien, it was you, but that fear in the back of his mind…

“... I understand.”

You smiled, kissing his head. “Good.”

“I should court you.”

A laugh from you, a joking gripe about having competition from Eddie. “That’d be sweet, Vee.”

A sharp gasp fell from your lips as Eddie’s cock was pulled from you so abruptly, his arms as well as he tumbled to the floor.

“Wha-”

“Let’s go, Eddie! I won’t come home without a suitable trophy to gift precious!”

“Wait, Vee - fuck - stop! I’m not wearing pants - I’m not wearing anything!”

“Not my problem!”

Eddie cried your name as a last attempt, glaring at your poorly hidden laughter. You took pity on him, clicking your tongue. “Not now, Vee,” you chastised, patting the mattress. “Y’know the rules, I need my cuddles.”

“Oh - yes!” He dragged Eddie right back into bed, snapping Eddie’s arms around you as if he wouldn’t do it himself. “Cuddles,” he mumbled, seeming to seriously ponder the word. “... ah!”

You felt your heart melt - just a little bit - as he curled into the crook of your neck, realizing he’d been pondering how to cuddle with his bobble head form. He nipped the tender flesh under your chin, just barely working it with his teeth without breaking it as he melted into the curves your body provided. Soft purrs started tumbling out of him, Eddie’s arms tightening around you, pulling you into his firm chest. His hands started kneading your hips, his self-soothing method that always emerged after a rough night - work or sex, he needed to touch you. Feel you push back on him, know you were real.

“Love you,” he muttered, words almost lost in your hair.

You brought his hand to your lips, kissing across his knuckles. “I love you.” You turned your head, lips brushing Venom. “And I love you.”

“I love the both of you, too,” he purred, “Eddie won’t say it, but he loves me.”

A short laugh, but no denial. You had rules about lies in your bedroom, after all.

“... You should really go pee.”

“Baby, please shut up.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

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