#he is romanceable with the right attitude

[celabi]

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 / 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈

5k words pwsp, face riding/sitting, pussy eating, subby/bottom sae. errr basically he’s down bad for ur kitty and is obsessed w/you.

sae itoshi isn't the type to do grand gestures. he doesn't believe in clichés or over the top romance. but today, he walks with you in silence, hands in his pockets, that same bored expression on his face, though his steps are slower, like he's trying to match your lazy pace.

you don't question it when he pulls open the door to a sleek, minimalistic jewelry store. the kind with glass cases, soft lighting, and prices no one talks about out loud.

"what are we doing here?" you ask, glancing around.

"looking." he says, short and vague, like always. but you can see the way his eyes dart across the displays, landing on one case in particular.

he doesn't ask for help. just walks straight over and stares down at a ring. simple. gold. nothing flashy. just elegant enough to catch the light. and when you peer over his shoulder from behind, curiosity bubbled in your chest. "for your mom or something?"

he doesn't answer. instead, he nods curtly towards the attendant, and just says, "that one."

the woman behind the counter lifts it carefully and asks if he would like to have it gift wrapped, but all he does is casts you a quick side glance, his expression unreadable.

"no," he says. "she'll be wearing it out."

your head snaps up as you blink. "what?"

sae finally turns to look at you, and that's when you see that flicker of something behind those icey blue eyes of his. something unspoken. he takes the ring before gently reaching out for your hand. his touch is soft as he lightly traces your knuckles.

"just wear it," he mutters, sliding it onto your ring finger. "you don't have to say anything."

it fits perfectly, and you really don't know what to say as you trail behind him when he approaches the register, the soft click of his shoes echoing through the otherwise quiet boutique. he pulls out his black card like it's nothing, like it doesn't scream power and wealth and a life far removed from the normal lifestyle.

the cashier takes it with two inviting hands, overly polite, overly cautious. she also flutters her long eyelashes and bites her plump lip, but you don't care enough to comment on her overly flirtatious attitude, and neither does he. you say nothing, instead just standing there, staring at the expensive ring now on your finger.

he doesn't look at you while he signs the receipt, he just accepts the small bag she hands him with the box inside, the one the ring would've come in, then tosses it to you without looking.

"keep it." he says, and you catch it clumsily, the bag crinkling in your hand.

outside, he doesn't wait. just walks ahead with that slow, bored saunter of his, like he didn't just do something incredibly intimate in the most casual way possible.

"you always this quiet after buying a girl a ¥300,000 ring?" you ask, jogging to catch up.

he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. "don't need to buy anyone anything."

"so why me?"

he shrugs. "because you're mine."

you go quiet, hating how your heart beats faster in your chest. stupid sae...

"you gonna run now?" he asks, voice low.

you look down at the ring. turn it once, then twice, examining the shine of the jewel.

"...no." you reply after a small pause.

he doesn't smile out right, but you catch the twitch of his lip. just the barest hint, and for someone like sae, that's practically a confession in itself.

the walk back to his car is quiet, but it's not all that uncomfortable. his fingers brush yours a few times, like he's debating whether or not to hold your hand. he doesn't though. typical sae. always wanting, never asking.

you sit in the passenger seat of his sleek, black mercedes benz, the city lights sliding over his delicate face like soft curtains as he navigates through the streets. you catch him glancing at you a few times as he drives, nothing too obvious, just that subtle, sidelong look he thinks you won't notice.

you finally decide to speak up after some awkward silence when he pulls into the parking lot of his apartment, "you didn't even ask if i liked it."

he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, eyes on the gate as it's slowly being opened by the security. "didn't need to."

"what if i didn't?"

"you did... you do."

you scoff under your breath, but you don't take the ring off. you haven't stopped turning it on your finger since he put it there. when he pulls into the parking garage under his building, neither of you move for a second. the car engine ticks as it cools down, the quietness becomes heavy between you.

"so," you say, voice light. "what now? am i supposed to move in or something? cook you dinner, massage your shoulders?"

he looks at you, almost like he's trying to see something beneath your skin.

"...preferably, but you can do whatever you want," he says, leaning back in his seat. "except taking the ring off."

"is that a rule?"

"it's a warning."

you raise a brow. "so you're threatening me now?"

"no." his voice drops a little. "just... don't want to lose you."

the walk through the garage is quick, and the elevator ride feels like a blur, the soft hum of the machinery barely audible between the tension thickening the air. sae stands just a bit too close, his shoulder grazing yours as he presses the button for the floor. he doesn't need to say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like he's measuring you, trying to see if you'll pull away or stay in his space.

when the elevator dings, the doors open to reveal his apartment, and it's exactly what you expect, luxurious, pristine, almost unnervingly perfect. the marble floors gleam under the soft lighting, casting a glow that makes the place look like something out of a movie. everything is so clean, so meticulously placed.

even the air smells expensive, it's almost intoxicating, a sharp contrast to your own home scent which is filled with laundry detergent and fresh food, but it's not entirely unwelcoming. it just feels like the kind of space where you're meant to be admired.

he holds the door open for you, just a small gesture, but there's an undeniable possessiveness in it. like he's claiming the space and now he's claiming you too. you step inside, taking in the layout with a curious gaze.

everything is in its place. the living room is sleek, with low leather sofas and a wall of glass that overlooks the city below. a few paintings hang in carefully chosen spots, but none of them draw your attention as much as the emptiness of the room. he's a minimalist. or maybe just hasn't had the time to go furniture shopping after returning from spin.

sae closes and locks the door behind him, stepping into the apartment like it's nothing new, but you can see the way his body tenses. it's almost like he's waiting for your approval, waiting to see what you think of his space.

"make yourself at home." he says, it sounding more like a command than an offer.

you nod, taking a seat on the couch, not exactly sure what to do with yourself in this perfectly curated world of his. you trace the edge of the coffee table, running your fingers over the smooth surface. everything about this place screams power and control, but you don't feel like you belong here. not yet, anyway.

sae, however, doesn't sit down. he stands a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on you.

"you like it?" he asks, voice soft but serious, like he needs the validation from you.

"it's nice," you say casually, glancing around. "a little... sterile."

he chuckles under his breath, walking over to the bar and grabbing himself a drink. sae was more accustomed to pouring himself a glass of whiskey than to catering to the needs of guests. "i... don't like clutter."

you watch him move and the easy confidence with which he handles himself. but there's a tension in the way he stands. like there's something he's trying to keep under control, something he's not showing you just yet.

"you don't like a lot of things." you sigh, trying to break the ice, even if it's just a little.

he looks at you over his shoulder, a faint smile curling on his lips. "you'd be surprised."

for a moment, you almost want to ask what exactly he's trying to hide, what's underneath all the wealth, the luxury, the polished exterior. but instead, you just lean back against the couch and let the silence settle between you. something tells you that he'll show you eventually.

he moves over and sits beside on you couch like he doesn't know what to do with himself, elbows on his knees, leaning slightly forward, eyes flickering toward you every few seconds before darting away again. for once, itoshi sae doesn't look like the calculated prodigy everyone sees on the field. he looks... awkward, and... lame.

his fingers brush against your side, ghosting over the hem of your shirt. not enough to grab, just enough for you to feel the contact. and he keeps doing it, like he's testing the waters, seeing how far he can go before you pull away. he's not cocky now. not smug. he's quiet. careful. and when his knuckles bump against your hip, he finally wraps his fingers around the fabric, not tightly, but like he needs something to hold onto.

you glance at him, and his eyes meet yours for a split second before he looks away again, jaw tense. he's trying so hard to keep his cool, but his foot is bouncing ever so slightly against the floor, and his grip on your shirt tightens the longer the silence stretches.

"you're weird tonight." you murmur.

he exhales a soft laugh, barely a breath. "you're in my house."

"so?"

"you've never been here before." his voice is low, almost like it's something he's been thinking about all night. "it feels different."

you raise an eyebrow. "different how?"

he shrugs, still playing with the hem of your shirt. "don't know. just... like you belong here."

you blink, thrown off by the way he said it. so quietly. so honestly, and now he's looking at you again. eyes sharp but unsure, like he wants to say something else but doesn't know how.

you shift a little closer, and he doesn't move away. his hand slides up your waist, like he's waiting for you to stop him. but you don't, so he keeps going, hand resting just at the curve of your side. he's watching your face for a reaction, lips parted like he's about to say something, then decides against it.

"you can do more than just play with my shirt, y'know." you whisper.

his ears go a little red. and then finally, his expression shifts. that familiar spark returns, just a flicker of confidence in his eyes. his hand tightens, and he pulls you a little closer, his voice low and rough.

"don't say that unless you mean it."

he leans in slightly, his breath brushing against your cheek, and for a moment, you think he might pull away again. but he doesn't. his hand slides up your side, fingertips grazing the edge of your shirt before he hesitates, just for a second. the uncertainty is still there, but there's a heat building between you two, like everything he's been holding back is finally getting too much to contain.

you're so close and the tension is almost unbearable. his lips part as if he's about to speak, but the words die in his throat when you move closer, just enough to close the gap. sae's gaze darkens, pupils widening as his breath hitches, the moment stretching like it's going to break any second.

then, before either of you can think twice, he's kissing you. it's rough at first, his hand moving quickly to your neck, pulling you into him like he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go. his lips are warm and hungry, and it's all a little messy, but it's real. there's a desperation to it, a need you haven't seen much of from him before.

you respond, your own hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your fingertips. sae's body presses into yours, as if there's no space between you left to breathe. he deepens the kiss, his fingers griping the back of your neck, tugging you closer as though he can't get enough of you. you feel him shiver against you, like he's struggling to keep his composure, like he wants to be in control, but you're slowly taking that power from him, and he's completely fine with it.

his kiss becomes softer for a moment, more tender, as if he's realizing that this is actually happening. that he's not just imagining it. he pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling with every breath, eyes dark with desire but also... something else. something deeper.

"fuck," he mutters, almost to himself. "you drive me fucking insane."

you hum softly, fingers brushing against the side of his sharp jaw. "mm? kind of embarrassing, honestly..."

he chuckles, that small, familiar arrogance returning to his face, but there's still a hint of vulnerability. "can't help it when it's you."

you're both breathless now, but for the first time in a long time, you don't need to say anything. the silence between you speaks volumes. and in that moment, you realize that whatever this is, whatever he is, it's not just about playing soccer together anymore.

sae breathed softly as he felt your body nestle against his own, your frame fitting perfectly into the hard planes of his lap. he could feel the soft swell of your breasts pressed against his firm chest, and the warmth of your breath mingling with his own as you gazed down at him through your pretty lashes

"god... you're so fucking beautiful..." he murmured, his voice a low whisper. sae couldn't take his eyes off you, his teal gaze drinking in every detail of your face, the arch of your eyebrows, those glossy lips that parted slightly as if inviting him to kiss.

he knew he should slow down, should give you time to adjust to his devotion, but the feel of your body so close to his own was intoxicating, and he found himself powerless to resist the pull he had towards you.

slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned in closer, his breath mixing with yours as he hovered just an inch away from your lips. "tell me to stop," he whispered, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "tell me you don't want this, and I will." he searched your eyes, his own gaze intense and demanding. "but if you don't..."

"...if i don't?"

he felt a thrill run through him at your breathless whisper, the way your lips parted slightly as if in anticipation of what he has to offer.

"if you don't..." he murmurs, his voice a low and seductive rumble. "then i'm going to bend you over this couch and—" he sucks in a breath.

instead of finishing, his hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pressing you closer against him. you could feel the hard, muscular tone of his body, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt. his other hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a soft caress.

"just... tell me you want it too," sae breathes, his eyes searching yours. "tell me you crave me much as I crave you." he was so close now, his lips a mere whisper away from your own. "let me worship you as you deserve to be worshipped."

with that, he closed the remaining distance between you, his mouth capturing yours in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of pent up longing and desire, of a hunger that could only be tamed by the taste of your lips. his kiss was demanding and insistent, his tongue delving into the warm cavern of your mouth to claim you fully as his own.

"ah.. s-sae..."

he groaned softly against your mouth as he heard you breathe out his name, the sound sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight to his pants. his hand slid from your spine to hold the back of your head and deepen the kiss. he licked into your mouth, his tongue stroking along yours that left you both breathless and aching.

his other hand slid down to the hem of your top, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric to caress the bare skin of your lower back. he could feel the heat of your body radiating against his own, and it made his fucking head spin.

he pulled back slightly, his chest heaving as he gazed up at you with eyes dark and heavy lidded. "get up. now," he growled, his voice rough with need. without waiting for a response, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you towards the hallway that led to what you assume to be his bedroom.

the room was dark, the only light coming from the glowing madrid night skyline visible through the floor to ceiling windows. sae kicked the door shut behind him before carrying you to the large, king sized bed that dominated the entire space. too big for one person.

he set you down gently on the soft mattress, his body covering yours as he settled between your parted thighs. sae hovered over you, his eyes blazing with intensity as he gazed down at your face.

"[name]..." he breathed, his voice a low murmur. his hand slid up your side, his fingers skimming over the curves of your breast before cupping the soft mounds in his large, calloused palm. he could feel your nipple hardening beneath the thin fabric of your top, and it made his crotch tighten in his jeans.

"tell me what you want," he urged softly, his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast. "tell me how to please you, and I will."

"..." you swallow, idly tracing his knuckles with your fingers. "anything you want, sae."

a small, shuddering breath fell from his parted lips at at your quiet murmur, a glint of pure satisfaction in his eyes. "fuck yes..." he pretty much sobbed, and without warning, lunged forward and captured your lips in another kiss. his mouth moved demandingly over yours, his tongue delving deep past your teeth.

his hands slid down to the hem of your top, yanking it up and over your head in one impatient motion. he tossed it carelessly to the floor, his gaze drinking in the sight of your newly exposed skin with a hunger that made your heart pound.

"fuck... you're so perfect." he breathed, his large hands cupping the soft swells of your breasts. he tested their weight, squeezing gently as he leaned down to press open mouthed kisses along the smooth flesh. his tongue flicked out to circle your stiffening nipple, teasing the sensitive peak until it strained towards his touch.

his mouth closed around your nipple, suckling greedily as his hand slid down the plane of your stomach. his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your pants, teasing along the edge of your panties.

he could feel the heat radiating from you, could sense the dampness that had begun to gather at the juncture of your thighs. it made his cock throb in his boxers, his own arousal growing more unbearable by the second.

"fuck, sweetheart, i—" he groaned against your breast, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. "i wanna taste you... please..."

his fingers pushed your panties aside, his thumb finding your clit and circling the sensitive nub, and at the same time, he nipped and sucked at your nipple. so hard it almost made you want to tell him that you couldn't produce milk. lmao

sae's fingers slid lower, brushing against your slit before, without any warning, shoved one deep inside your tight heat, and groaned at the feel of you. so hot and ready for him as he began to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt relentlessly.

your thighs clench around his hand, dropping your head back a small mewl falls from your lips. it... hurts. sae isn't go slow in the slightest, with his knuckles grinding against your clit with each fast thrust of his fingers. thankfully, he's not wearing those rings that he likes to send you photos of on his veiny hands.

"...want to sit on my face?"

your eyes flutter open after having them screwn shut as his fingers stretch open your insides. "h-huh?"

he let out a choked shudder, those gorgeous eyes of his almost glossy. "ride my face. please... i want it so bad— need it."

"..." you swallow, gripping the sheets under your shaking hands. "...yeah? i can?"

his head snapped up at your hesitant question, eyes glistening. "yes," he coos, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "god, yes, you can."

he urged you up his body, his hands gripping your hips as he lies back against the pillows and guided you to straddle his face, the feel of your crotch hovering so close to his mouth making his head spin, making his dizzy.

"you're going to sit on my face," he shuddered, his breath hot against your folds. "and... and you're gonna ride my tongue until you're all i taste for the next week... please."

sae's hand slid to your thigh, his fingers digging into the soft skin as he spread your legs wider apart, baring you completely to his eyes. he could see the glistening evidence of your arousal, and the way your juices had begun to coat the skin on your inner thighs. "goddd... so fucking wet," he breathed, his voice just a low whisper. "so ready for me, aren't you, baby?"

his fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, a low groan of frustration escaping his lips as he struggled to free himself from the confining denim. his erection was borderline painful, and his aching cock was straining against the zipper and demanding to be released. to be touched. "oh... fuck sake—"

after a small, one sided tussle that he almost lost, he finally manages to yank the button open, freeing his straining hard on from his too tight pants. he shimmies his hips, and with the help of the mattress, is able shove his jeans the rest of the way down his thighs. instantly, his hand is cupping the thick bulge of his cock, squeezing his length through the thin and damp fabric of his calvin klein boxers.

"sit down." he pants, gazing up at you over your pelvis through his glittering lashes, "sit like a chair... don't— don't ask if i can breathe. just sit down."

his hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, urging you down, down, until the first swipe of his tongue parted your glistening folds and he groaned long and low against your core.

"fuck, mm— you taste—" he sobs, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your sensitive insides. "i could eat this pretty cunt for, mmfph— h-hours..."

he sealed his mouth over your clit and suckled hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the bundle of nerves. at the same time, he thrust his tongue deep inside your walls, fucking you with the slick appendage as he drank down your juices like a man who had been denied water for months.

sae's free, trembling hand slid around to grip the globe of your ass, urging you to grind harder against his mouth. he could feel your thighs trembling against his face, could hear the breathless little moans and cries that spilled from your lips as his tongue fucked you relentlessly.

he couldn't hold back the guttural moan that tore from his throat when he slipped past the waistline of his underwear and finally freed his aching cock from the pocket of his boxers. the thick and twitching shaft sprang out, slapping against his abdomen and leaving a small smear of pre cum on his skin.

sae groaned around your clit as he felt your body start to tremble above him, your muscles tensing and fluttering. he could sense the way your hips began to undulate, grinding your dripping core against his mouth and nose as if seeking more of his touch.

"mhm— that's it, baby," he squeezes his eyes closed tight, tears pooling on his lash line. "so fffucking good f'me..."

his fingers dug into the cheek of your ass, kneading the muscle as he pulled you harder against his face like he wanted to consume you, to devour you whole, to make you his in every way that was humanly possible.

at the same time, he could feel his own release building, his cock throbbing hard and hot in his grip as he stroked himself in time with the frenzied movements of his tongue. so close, so fucking close, and he knew you were too.

the way your walls began to flutter around his invading muscle, the way he could taste the first gush of your arousal as it flooded his mouth. he whimpered pathetically, his hips bucking up into nothing as his hand erratically pumped up and down his red and angry cock.

"gmmm... gonna cum—" despite his words being muffled by your sex, you hear the pure and animalistic tone in his words. you reach down between your quivering thighs and tangle your fingers in his sweaty hair, tugging on the burgundy strands slightly.

he sobs, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at you hazily through his begging eyes. "p-please, fill up my mouth—" he pleads, nails digging into your skin hard enough to indent some moon shaped crescents into your flesh.

you grip the headboard and stare down at him over the slope of your breasts, biting the inside of your cheek as he begs pathetically for you to orgasm. this... this is japan's prodigy? this boy, humping the air and fucking his hand as he goes to town on the city between your legs? this boy?

"s-sae..." you murmur, slightly embarrassed by the small tremor in your tone. you swallow, lifting your hips off his face slightly. and he looks like he's about to cry as his mouth is forcefully unlatched from your pussy, but he doesn't get the chance to when you wordlessly drop back down and grind your folds against his mouth and nose.

that's all it takes.

a raw and somewhat pitiful sound raptures from his scratchy throat, and with a few more pumps from his hand, sae is cumming. hard.

"fuck— oh fuckkkk—!"

his entire body was coiled tight, every muscle drawing up as he teetered on the rope of ecstasy, he cried out, his hips bucking wildly as his orgasm overtook him. thick ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head of his cock, splattering his chest and abdomen as he rutted his hips against his own hand. some of it even manages to squirt against your back.

tears finally begin to leak from his eyes, gliding down his pale, flawless cheeks and staining the silk pillow underneath his head. his chest heaves under you, his mouth still latched onto your clit.

you stare down at him, eyes slightly narrowing at the sight of his limp and pliant body. "um, e-excuse me...?"

he hums at your quiet words, eyes flickering up, now only lazily flicking his tongue against your salvia coated folds. his hand is still gripping your ass, but much less harshly than before. his fingers are lightly caressing the marks he had given you. "mm, baby? so good, thank you..."

you shake your head, tugging his hair and emitting a small groan from his lips. "w-what...? what'd i do..?" he whispers, only barely audible from under you.

"...it's not what you did..." you scoff. "it's what you didn't do."

there's visible confusion in his hazy eyes, and he lightly taps your hip in a silent question.

"...you haven't made me cum yet."

he blinks. a deeper red hue spreading over his already flushed face. "f— oh..." he gulps, eyes flickering down to your cunt resting on his chin, then back up to your expecting look.

he nods. "y-you're right... m' sorry." he murmurs, releasing his cock, which thuds against his abdomen, still red and leaking, so he can place both hands on your ass. he squeezes the flesh in his palms, kneading it under his calloused fingers.

"sorry, baby..." he repeats, tilting his chin up and pressing his nose back against your dripping core.

"let me... let me fix that."

[bluespiritshonour]

I'm not sure if you've mentioned it before, but do you have any good Zuko x Mai fanfic recommendations???? It's hard to find one that's not one-sided or just set in the past.

Also just wanted to say, I adore your art <3

Oh! Hello. I was late replying to this ask because work + trying to remember the kind of fics you suggested because otherwise I'd just have plugged in a bunch of favs here and called it a day 😅

I do hope by one-sided you meant it feels like Mai's putting in all the work because if you meant it being Zuko (which I doubt) then that's not what this list is gonna be.

You're good though. Maiko feeling one-sided it one of my gripes too and I do always try to find fics where Zuko's a yearner.

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This three parter series by @loopy777. I think when I'm old and gray, Black and Blue would still be not only one of my favourite fics, but one of my favourite stories. It's hard for me to find the kind of stuff I like in romance (which is why I usually avoid the genre but Black and Blue with it's flipping of tropes on it's heads was just the kind of thing I liked. Flowers For Mai has yearner Zuko. He's so earnest there—I think Zuko was canonically very earnest so I like him being written like that. And Making It Legal, I like it because wow, adult maiko acting like actual adults from all the life lessons they've learned and all they've learned about being with each other after all these years? They are acting mature and healthy and not like angsty teenagers? Sign me up! Even now, when I feel down thinking about toxic maiko I go and skim through this fic to make myself feel better. Maiko can be mature and healthy together, okay? Plus, I like character progression. Static characters aren't fun—and while all these fics can be read as stand alone, if you read them serially you'd find character development that is allowed to stick. Also, Black and Blue would forever be my favourite, I wish it was food so I could eat it.

For Better and For Worse (also by Loopy): they both confront their fears about each other and their relationship in this one. But most of all: this is the non-traditional, adventurous wedding maiko (and especially Mai) deserves!!! You know, from a meta textual perspective. They are not normies! There are plenty of normies out there but maiko aren't it! The narrative owes it to them not to make them normies! Jsvdwkwjwj!

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i love you, don't act so surprised by @calliopieces : this is another fic I read when I feel down in the dumps and maiko's the reason 😅 (I touch grass I swear, it's still not enough sometimes) This fic makes me feel a whole lot better about The Boiling Rock. I like Zuko acknowledging Mai's sacrifice for him and accepting it and swearing to do better by her instead of being all "i don't deserve her waaaa." I find the later attitude cowardice.

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Keeping It Quite by @headhedgehog : so. The thing about maiko feeling unequal, right? This fic satisfied my urge for good boyfriend Zuko. He's so accommodating of Mai in this fic! Look, I'm not a writer and while I can tell a good story when I see one, I can't generate ideas for it! I always keep complaining I want Zuko to do something grand for Mai like she did in TBR. He doesn't do anything grand here, but all the little things he does are so convincing, you know. I was on the verge of dropping out of the fandom when I found this fic and it made me stay. This fic has Aunt Mura say a line I'll always want to hear when it comes to maiko.

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I hope you're okay with AUs 'cause Mirelle's ( @flameohotfamily ) an AU bender and Zuko in her stuff cares visibly for Mai.

i wish tomorrow never happened is a Hunger Games AU. And oh—when I first read it oh. I don't have words. Zuko's sooooooo! 🥹😭 He was Mai's mentor in the Hunger Games. I have it filed under my "Zuko does stuff for Mai" folder. Warning: it's sad.

the damaged flowers is a Victoria AU. Although this is more "Mai does things for Zuko", don't mistake it: Zuko's earnest like a puppy here when it comes to her. He's smitten. The way he is for most of this fic reminds me of his happy face in the finale when maiko are reunited. And Mai is very in character with the cartoon. Also, fair warning: it gets sad! Very sad.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

Evidence by LizBee: I love all of LizBee's fics because of their characterisation of Mai (and Toph too!) Also, non-traditional Mai!!! [Claps hands] This particular one is Mai centric where she's badass! She's Zuko's spymaster and what stuck out to me, personally, in this fic was how it manages to nail to balance between showing Zuko worrying for Mai's safety while also not shutting her out or trying to restrict her. It's a conflict I'm, frankly, not a fan of. It's neither "she doesn't need protection so i'mma just chill and make it look like I don't care about her safety" nor "oh my god! Mai, I forbid you to be my spymaster it's dangerous™". It's neither and I loved how simple it was! You can tell they've been married for years by now with the dynamic that's established between them! There's also the suggestion that Zuko would very much start another war for Mai and Mai's like yeah, that's why he's surrounded by people like Aang and Iroh who'd keep him from it! Another balance here, managing to show Zuko being a loverboy who'd be willing to go to such lengths for Mai while establishing a safety net that'd make sure he'd actually not go full Vlad Dracula Tepes.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

Deep Ravine by Alabaster86 : Summary reads, After the birth of her first child, Mai falls into a depression.

I had never hoped to find something like postpartum depression handled so well in a fanfic but here we are. I love how throughout the whole ordeal, Mai has a support system. And the ending is hopeful. Zuko's a great husband in this one, although he doesn't appear as much. But that's not the point I suppose, it's about Mai and her struggles. It's also got some awesome Michi and Mai not exactly reconciling, but learning to see eye to eye. Although Michi is Akira here, so it's probably an old fic from before Michi was named. I love pre-rennaissance maiko fics ngl. The characterisation in them tends to be [chef's kiss]

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

If you want some modern AU college maiko DisasterFem's The Only Exception got you covered! Maiko here is equal (I say as I cry, fic writers really do keep us afloat, don't they?) and Zuko's side of maiko gets it's due. They're both trying so hard to move on and are still hung up on each other. It's a softer Mai, one that I think she would be after friends and therapy. Come on, we know she needs both. It's ongoing.

🗡️ 🔥 🗡️ 🔥

So, I guess that wraps it up, eh. That was a ride and I've yet to read maiko week fics. Apart from Black and Blue (which I promise would be worth your time despite being set in the past) most of it is maiko being adults and acting like adults. (Fuck you, Gene Yang). Sorry. I'm not sorry.

And after this much labour, I wouldn't be surprised if you've read most of these fics 🥹

[gingerteawrites]

Rave babe - Nanami Kento

A/N: I suddenly had this thought, so armed with my very preliminary knowledge of emo culture, I wrote a little something. Barely proofread.

Divider: @bernardsbendystraws

Nanami was all straight lines and sharp edges. From his pristine suits to his no-nonesense attitude, nothing about him gave the impression of anything but prim and proper.

Actually, that is not entirely true.

There were hints. Elusive, but there.

Things like the rebellious leopard print of his favorite tie. His subtle 'fuck you' attitude towards authority.

Maybe they should have been your clue to one deep dark secret that your husband kept. One that, on a fateful cleaning day, you discovered hid in your shared room.

It was a small box, tucked in the corner of your closet. So inconspicuous under the pile of neatly-stacked shoe boxes that it nearly evaded your sight. But its dimensions were not as precise as the ones it hid under, betraying the unexpected nature of its contents.

Oh so carefully, you pried it away from its confines and lifted the lid, audibly gasping at what laid within.

Pictures.

Many of them depicting a blonde young man whose resemblance to your husband was undeniable. Except, everything else was different

The cleaning was quickly forgotten as you sat on your bed, giggling at the old pictures of Nanami. He looked straight out of a 2000s emo band poster —dramatic bang covering his right eye in a way that begged mystery, an eyebrow piercing whose silver surface reflected the flash of the camera. Poses that screamed 'my heart is too dark for this world.'

One picture of him nonchalantly posing next to a My Chemical Romance poster had you cackling uncontrollably, pulling out your phone to record the evidence. How had no one ever told you about this?

It was in this position, now laid down with all the pictures sprawled on your bed and still giggling to yourself, that Nanami found you.

“Good afternoon my love-” the familiar greeting slipped from his lips, as he loosened his tie, stepping into the room, before stopping dead in his tracks when his brain registered what you were doing.

“Ken,” you turned to him, the wide smile on your lips holding a hint of mischief. “You never told me about this,” you sauntered over, pictures in your hands, ready to tease. “You were a little emo boy, huh?”

A weary sigh drew from his lips, embarassment creeping into his thoughts at the memories of his style at the time. You didn't miss the small blush that tinted his cheeks. “That was 2008, [name]” his lips drew into a tight line, advancing further into the room to put his briefcase down. “there’s no need to dig out embarassing memories.”

The edge in his voice cooled your excitement a little as you stood by the door. Immediately, the thoughts of teasing dropped from your mind.

“I don’t think it’s embarassing, Kento. I think it’s cute. I love seeing pictures of you as a teenager,” your voice softened, eyes drifting to the photos in your hands again. Even as a teen, he had already mastered the poker face, his look betraying not a hint of amusement. It was funny, in a way. How hints of the man you knew now had already formed then.

He turned to you, immediately regretting being so curt.

If he had to be honest with himself, he had buried this part of himself because of how jarringly it contrasted his current image. Countless years of teasing from Gojo aside, Nanami understood that being a respectable adult and having a full blown emo phase were not two things people thought went together. His heart’s desire was to be a pillar of stability for those around him. Even if that meant relinquishing past interests.

“Plus, I’m pretty sure I had a couple Paramore songs in my rotation at some point too,” you added, chuckling to yourself as you looked up at him.

“Really?” The slight tension had now fully dissipated. He crossed his arms, leveling you with a questioning look. One that held absolutely no bite.

“Yup,” you walked to him, playfulness returning, placing the pictures back in their box that still sat on the bed. “Actually do you know what I’ve always wanted to try?” you drew even closer, smiling at the way he couldn’t resist the urge to uncross his arms and place them around your hips. In one swift movement, your body was flush against his.

“What?” his voice rumbled deep against your chest.

“A rave!” You beamed, resting your arms on his chest.

“Well, emo and rave culture aren’t exactly the same thing,” he began, brows relaxed as he explained. “It’s like comparing punk rock to EDM. Similar in a way, but also very different, love.”

“But I feel like I know a good number of people who were emo when I was younger who love raves now,” you justified.

“Well, I cannot deny that the emo and goth to raver pipeline is pretty significant,” he chuckled at your inquiry, fully disarmed in the face of your earnestness.

“So take me? I want to go with you,” you pressed closer, your face just a breath away from his.

Nanami couldn’t suppress his smile, “We'll debate that after I've had my welcome home kiss, yeah?” he finally leaned over, closing his lips over yours in a move that stole your breath, kissing you out of any thoughts of his emo past —for now.

Nanami was not quite ready to admit to the signed copy of 'The Black Parade' that he still kept as one of his most prized possessions (It really wasn't just a phase). But the thought of you in a rave outfit might just be enough to make him concede to your request.

I truly know nothing about emo/rave culture so I hope this wasn't too bad`(*>﹏<*)′

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)

[llamagoddessofficial]

I didn't actually see the eclipse (wrong continent) but it definitely got the gears in my head turning. I wish I had art skills to draw the idea bouncing around in my noggin, but consider; corruption takes over Nightmare and Dream. They merge together into one entity called Total Eclipse.

Its magic is ice white, its body is pitch black. It retains Nightmare's 'texture' but it has Dream's ethereal glow. It's large... the intimidating stature of two Gods in one form, with an aura of unspeakable intensity. Despite its two halves famously being at constant war with one another, the entity is stable, unnervingly calm. It constantly looks faintly amused.

When it speaks, it speaks in either Dream or Nightmare's voice. If it's talking to someone who knew one of the two, it uses the voice they're most familiar with. It occasionally uses both at once - seemingly for dramatic effect.

It can trigger any number of feelings in someone with only a glance. It looks like it takes joy in doing so. Standing too close to it can cause uncontrollable tears.

It responds to the name 'Eclipse'. It has a delayed response to 'Dream' - and doesn't seem to react at all to 'Nightmare'.

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[gifti3]

gabriel and mc, enemies to lovers would have been so good tho

[bellaroles]

Maybe I'm too old or something, when I see a romance plot in danmei like "It must be now or I'm gonna die," I'm not buying it. Look at ASDFJKL...etc. , they all waited so long why must you hurry?

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37) heavy dacryphilia, finger sucking, use of “good girl”, use of pet names, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him.

An: I fear that I was going to explode if I didn’t write this. I’ve been in a not good headspace. Blah blah blah school sucks blah blah work sucks blah everything sucks. I’m sorry if this sucks too. Edit - I forgot to mention that this will be a multi-part fic.

Part one. | Part two. | Part three. | Part four. |

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

Nothing in this life comes for free.

Your father taught you from a very early age to never take handouts from anyone because they’ll always benefit the other person more. He was an immigrant to Japan, and he worked hard for every yen he made.

He instilled that same work ethic in you.

After being hurt on the job from working in a poor environment, your father became very ill. He couldn’t move around as much. Sitting up out of bed made him feel winded. He slowly withered away into a shell of the man who once raised you.

Your mom was long gone. She couldn’t help out, nor did she even want to.

All you were left with was a pile of debt and utter rage. Had your father not been taken advantage of by greedy corporate conglomerates, he would still be here today.

It inspired you to want to go to law school. Your dad should’ve received a hefty settlement check for what he endured from his workplace conditions. The money wouldn’t have solved everything, but it would’ve alleviated some of the stress your dad dealt with in his final days.

You’ll never forget how hoarse his voice sounded while he was on the phone with different agencies, trying to sue that place who forced him into an early grave.

You’ll never forgive them for stealing your dad away.

If you were more ambitious, you’d work to try to change the system entirely, but you knew that wasn’t your fight to face. You wanted to help the already disadvantaged families who were facing injustices beyond their control.

So, you started law school. You were smart enough for it. You had the heart. You just didn’t have a special last name to fund your college tuition. You were a first generation Japanese American in the family. While both your parents were born in America, you were born in Japan, but you were still an outsider.

You were never properly indoctrinated in the culture. Sure, you knew the basics. You knew proper etiquette and appropriate behaviors to live in Japan, but you didn’t understand the layers of how society operated. It was as if you were never assimilated into society as a Japanese citizen.

Your dad wasn’t born here, so he never could explain to you how your last name means everything in this town.

Despite it all, you’d become a lawyer even if you had to bury yourself into debt to do it. You’d work to put yourself through college. You’d do it and bear a smile on your face because you don’t take fucking handouts.

That lead you to becoming a bottle girl at one of the most exclusive clubs in the entertainment district: Malevolent Mass.

The manager said you had the right look, whatever that means. It didn’t matter. He hired you on the spot despite your lack of a substantial last name.

This would be fine. You’d work at night on the weekends and put yourself through school during the day, and you’d keep it a secret from your school, knowing you could lose your position in the prestigious school.

It was a perfect plan, right?

Yes, it was perfect.

Customers seemed to love your polite attitude and warm hospitality. You had quickly made a name for yourself in the few short nights you had worked there.

It was only your second weekend, and your section was full. It was almost comprised entirely of men and their gold digger wives, but you got use to the sexual comments and predatory smiles.

The environment was heavily secured. When you were hired, the managers made sure to show you where security was posted up at every dark corner. They also showed you where cameras were located and assured you that not anyone could just walk into Malevolent Mass.

However, you were well aware that the most dangerous people often worse suits and golden Rolex’s.

It was a busy Friday night. You had already shotgunned two 5 Hour Energy drinks, and you had been steadily sipping on a Monster throughout your shift. You had been in classes all day, and you were scheduled to work until close at 4am.

“Cherry, can we get another round of champagnes?” a sleazy voice pipes up, calling you by your codename. The club was so security driven that they gave all the bottle girls codenames to protect their identities.

“Yes sir,” you respond with an entirely fake bright smile. Your buzzed customers couldn’t tell the difference especially with the low lighting and bass boosted music.

As you walked over towards the bar, your eyes fall onto another table. A man was leaned back with his hands behind his head. He looked entirely relaxed as a girl was bent over your lap.

A crease formed between your eyebrows. They couldn’t be serious, right? Malevolent Mass had a whole downstairs portion dedicated to public sexual acts and other deviant kinks. Why the fuck were they doing that in the normal club area?

As you took a step further, ready to confront them, you realized that the girl was positioned oddly. She wasn’t angled towards his crotch, instead she was hovering over his thigh.

That’s when you noticed she had a rolled up 10,000 yen note, and she was snorting a white powdery substance off the man’s thigh.

Holy fuck, you were in over your head.

Stumbling back towards the bar, you felt your head start to spin a little. It was probably due to fact you’d only consumed energy drinks in the past 12 hours.

“Girl. You don’t look too good,” the bartender, Yorozu, said as she guided you to take a seat. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. Compared to the other bottle girls and dancers, Yorozu was the closest thing you had to a friend in this establishment.

“I’m fine,” you quietly replied, shaking your head. It was just drugs. You needed to take a chill pill. It’s not like people go to clubs like this just for some liquid courage.

Yorozu put a glass of water in front of you anyways, not quite believing your words. “Here. I promise you get used to it all,” she offered with a kind smile.

You gave her an appreciative smile as you took a sip of the water. Your hand was trembling, and you realized you had been sweating.

The water felt nice, and you inwardly warded off energy drinks for the rest of the night. It wasn’t worth feeling like a panicky mess.

“I need another bottle of Dom Prignon for booth 12,” you said as you looked back up towards Yorozu. She nodded and walked towards the back to retrieve the bottle of too expensive champagne.

While she was gone, you took a deep breath and looked around towards the security posts. It felt like a small safety blanket in a place like this. Finishing your glass of water, you felt infinitely better as she returned with the bottle.

“Here you are! Let me know if you need anything else, and seriously, don’t feel bad for reacting that way. It’s a bit of a culture shock for everyone during their first few nights,” she assured you as she handed you the bottle.

“Thanks, I appreciate you,” you replied with a genuine smile. Yorozu had a nice energy to her like you felt like you could get close to her one day. A girl friend would be nice to have in a place like this.

As you walked back over to your section, your lips curled into a frown as empty seats filled your eyes. Had they gotten tired of waiting and abandoned your section?

You felt disappointed as you looked around for your customers. They were nowhere to be found, but one silhouette remained in the very back corner.

“Did you bring that bottle for me? How sweet. Too bad I don’t drink,” a deep gravely voice spoke up with a hint of condescension and pure predatory prowess.

You hesitate as it feels like the air in the club shifts simply from this man’s presence alone.

“You don’t drink..?” your voice is uneasy. You feel off balance while interacting with the man tucked away in a dark corner.

“No,” the stranger replied, and he leaned forward a bit, propping his elbows on his knees as his eyes were staring straight at you. “Don’t be shy, girl. Come closer. I won’t bite…” the condescension in his voice tells you otherwise.

You swallow thickly before slowly taking a few steps closer. As you approached him, you were able to see him in all of his glory. The breath is completely sucked from your lungs as you’re able to finally get a good look at him.

He wore a white button-up top with black slacks that really didn’t leave much for the imagination. His sleeves weee rolled up to his elbows, showing off tattoos on his arms.

His face was hauntingly alluring. His tattoos also went up to his face. He had intricate lines under his cheeks that stretched down to his chin. His hair was a natural light rosy color that was pushed up from his forehead. It looked effortless and messy, unlike most business men who rely way too heavily on hair gel.

His eyes were a soft crimson color that looked like blood that had been spilled. A jarring scar slashed over his left eye, but it wasn’t ugly by any means. No, this man held a god-like status when it came to looks. However, his energy felt nothing short of daunting and corrupt.

“Who comes to a club to not drink?” you ask nervously, having to fill the eerie silence with something. It felt like you were suffocating in this man’s presence.

A rugged chuckle leaves his lips, and he tilts his head back slightly. It feels like his laugh sticks to you, making you relax and tense back up all at the same time. You can feel every yen he’s worth with each chuckle.

“If you must know, I come here for a… different sort of entertainment,” he says as his lips curled into a smirk. His eyes unabashedly roam your body — twice before he meets your gaze again.

“Oh, that’s downstairs,” you reply as you feel relieved. This man was just in the wrong section. Surely, you’d guide him to where he needed to go, and you’d be free from whatever kind of verbal hostage situation this was.

“I’m content with where I’m at,” he says with a sort of finality that leaves little room for argument. “Come closer, doll.”

His arm props up on the back of the curved booth, and his legs part into that sort of manspread position where he takes up a good portion of the booth with his massive size.

“I-“

The man pulls a clip of money from his suit, and he makes a show out of flipping through the money before he lays six 10,000 yen notes on the table.

What the hell.

“60,000 yen for you to shut up and come closer,” he says in a voice that lacks the faux kindness he was putting on earlier.

Every survival instinct in your body was telling you to run, but your brain was telling you that 60,000 yen was enough to cover your student housing and for a train pass for a month.

You slowly inch closer, your heels not even lifting from the ground.

The man gives you an amused look as he raises an eyebrow at you. “How much for you to sit on my lap?”

“I-I’m not a dancer..” you reply sheepishly, wondering if he thought you were one of the performers for the club.

“Good thing I’m not asking you to dance, doll. I’m asking you to sit in my lap,” His lips curl into a feline grin. He’s enjoying toying with you like this. “So, I’ll ask only one more time. How much?”

Your heart is pounding against the confines of your ribcage. It felt like you had a little angel on your shoulder telling you that selling this man your time will only further escalate, but the little devil on your other shoulder was telling you to milk him for whatever he was willing to give.

You stayed silent for a few minutes, calculating what a whole month’s expenses would cost you along with the 60,000 yen you already made.

“90,000 yen,” you sheepishly murmur, bracing yourself for him to yell at you for even suggesting such a high number.

There was a beat of silence before the sound of more money being unfolded was heard. He chuckled as he placed down nine more 10,000 yen notes.

“Look at you being all cute while asking for money from me,” he teased, resting his back against the back of the booth. His hand patted his thigh, signaling for you to take a seat.

“I’m not asking— You offered!” you protested, feeling a bit defensive that he would suggest that you just asked him for money.

“Don’t take such a whiny tone with me, doll. I’m only teasing you,” he says as he gestures to his lap yet again. “Sit.”

You bite your bottom lip as you look down towards his lap. You were really about to sit on this stranger’s lap for money… If your dad could see you now, he’d probably disown you.

Good thing he isn’t here.

You slowly walked over towards him, and you carefully take a seat on one of his thighs, planting your feet firmly on the ground so you’re slightly hovering. You need to be able to get away from him at a moment’s notice.

A strong hand slowly snaked up your back, towards your hair, and you tensed up quickly. The stranger wrapped his hand around the back of your neck.

“If I have to tell you again, I’m taking back my money. Sit,” he viciously growled in your ear.

You were already this far in. You should see this through. This club is safe. You were sure of it.

As you slowly allowed yourself to prop your full weight across his lap, your eyes scan around the club, looking at the security points. None of the men would even glance in your direction as if they were purposefully ignoring your section.

What did you just get yourself into?

“See? Was that so hard?” he taunted as his hand slowly dropped down to clasp around your hip. “Why is an angel like you in a club like this?”

Everything in you told you not to answer that question. As soon as he knew your weakness, he’d definitely use it to his advantage, but he probably already knew money was a good motivator for you.

“I didn’t know there was a no angel policy,” you say, trying to remain casual as you flash him a small smile.

A deep chuckle erupts from his chest. He appreciates you trying to use humor to deflect. Clever girl.

“I suppose you’re right,” he rolls his head to the side, cracking his neck from both sides. The sound of bones popping causes a shudder to go through your body. This man was good at giving a false sense of security. “But angels don’t last long in a place like this. It would be a pity to see you be ruined.”

His other hand firmly rested against your thigh, right above your knee. He gives your leg a light squeeze. “Tell me your name, doll.”

“Cherry,” You respond without missing a beat, giving your code name instead of your real name.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asks, allowing his fingertips to glide against the exposed skin of your thigh. Your breath picks up in speed, noticing he’s getting more bold with touching you.

“Am I suppose to?” you ask, genuinely curious if this man was some big shot that you were suppose to know.

You very rarely kept up with politics, only knowing major crime names from your law classes, and you definitely didn’t keep up with conglomerates. This man wouldn’t be the first millionaire to walk through the doors of Malevolent Mass, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Another deep raspy chuckle escapes him. “No, I actually find it quite cute you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

His hand slithered up your back once again, and this time he grabbed a fistful of your head, tugging your head back to look up at him. A gasp slips past your lips as your eyes meet his crimson ones.

“Tell me a secret, cherry,” he hisses your codename like it’s disgraceful on his tongue. “Do you belong here?”

You think to try to get up from his lap, but his other arm has worked to secure you to him tightly. The security men aren’t even glancing in your direction. No one would hear you over the music blasting if you tried to scream, and if this man was as important as his inflated ego suggested, no one would likely even help you.

You’ve done everything thus far to get out from underneath the rich man’s thumb, but it feels like every time you take one step forward, something pushed two steps back.

Do you belong anywhere? No where feels like home after your dad passed. Tears stung into your eyes. Why were you thinking of him at a time like this? He can’t save you now.

The man’s lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the tears building in your eyes. That alone was confirmation enough. You didn’t belong here at all.

His other hand reaches up to your face, and he gently strokes your cheek — a contrast to how tightly he was holding your hair. “Such a pretty crier,” he deep gravely voice coos to you.

You can’t even help it at this point. You try to blink the water away from your eyes, but the tears slip down your cheeks anyway. You just silently cursed yourself for ruining your own makeup.

“You’re a crybaby, aren’t you?” he asked as his fingers brush against your pouty lips, and he grabs your chin carefully. “Open.”

Accepting defeat, your lips part ever so slightly for him, and you can feel the way his heart races in his chest from the sight. He narrowly eyes you as two of his fingers slip past your lips.

You’re momentarily stunned from his thick fingers filling your mouth. You feel a thrum between your thighs, but you try to ignore it. Surely, your body was just betraying you, and his body was betraying him. You were able to feel every inch of his hard on through his slacks. The sight of your tears only served to spur him on further.

When you give his fingers a light suckle, he purrs a praise for you. Leisurely, he thrusts his digits in and out from your mouth. He admires the way you accept them in without a single complaint.

“Such a good girl for me. Try a little harder,” his voice darkly instructs you as he slides his fingers deeper past your tongue, hitting your inexperienced throat.

Your throat involuntarily constricts, causing you to gag and cry more. You hum around his fingers as you whimper. He merely laughs at your pitiful display.

“We’ll have to train your cute little throat to take more, won’t we?” he asked, making a dull ache settle in your lower stomach. You had never done anything like this, and the way he was treating all this so casually filled you with some sort of… excitement.

His words also struck you with fear as you realized this meant he was likely far from being done with his antics.

His fingers continue until you’ve coated them in a thin sheen of saliva. When he pulled from you, you were panting even though he hadn’t taken away your ability to breathe.

He smirked as he gazed at you as if he can tell that your cunt is clenching around nothing right now. It’s like he knows every perverse desire you’ve fantasized about in your alone time.

“You’re a vision, doll. I’m going to have so much fun breaking you,”

Before you could even think to inquire what he meant by that, an unfamiliar male voice spoke up to your side, causing you to flinch slightly. The other man was dressed in basic business attire, but he had a scrappier look to him.

“Sir?”

The stranger tensed, and you could practically see all the playful taunting energy in his face melt away. He stared daggers into the newcomer’s soul. “Speak.”

“Members of the Gojo clan were spotted near Dante’s 7th circle,”

“Dammit, what a pest,” the pink-haired male growled. He clearly didn’t fancy being interrupted.

You perked up a little from the mention of the infamous Gojo clan. You had heard plenty of whispers about the clan fluttering about on campus, and the clan had been brought up momentarily in your organized gangs class before the professor quickly shut down the conversation.

Yakuza clans were talked about in school, but the professors were very careful about what they chose to say, knowing that members were everywhere amongst them.

The stranger carefully moved you from his lap, and he stood up, gathering himself before turning to you. “You behave. I have to go tend to something, but I’ll be back for you,” he said as he reached into his coat, and he casually tossed a whole clip of yen onto the table.

Your eyes widened at the stack of money sitting on the table, and your heart began to race. It felt like the last two hours had been a complete blur, but now, you were face with a thick stack of money — probably enough to cover you for at least three months… and you weren’t even done with your shift yet.

Your excitement was quickly overshadowed by fear. He was coming back for you. How intertwined had you gotten yourself into this mess?

taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby

[muli-wam]

JESUS, WHATS A GIRL TO DO?

THIS BOY DOESN'T EVEN KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN "THEIR", "THERE", AND "THEY ARE"

contents: smut, fluff, cursing, suggestive, college/modern AU (I will add to this as the series continues)

TAGLIST: CLOSED

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Track Runner!Ryomen Sukuna

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Jujutsu Tech High's #1 track star falls in love with...his coaches daughter? Let's see if sukuna's "forbidden" romance can get him kicked from the team faster than getting that full ride scholarship.

Skaterboy!Ino Takuma

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Ino sees a cute girl at the skate park and decides to shoot his shot. Asking for your number turned to setting up weekly skate board practices with him because, god, you suck.

Tennis Player!Kento Nanami

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Nanami, the quiet and reserved college kid who had a terrible haircut and a small group of friends (who he didn't necessarily like), seemed to be crushing on some girl he always sees at his local coffee shop, you. Turns out you go to his school, and you also have an interest in tennis, in which Nanami offers to teach you.

Hockey Player!Choso Kamo

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Choso never saw it coming...literally. one second, the rink was clear and the next? Hockey gear scattered, ice burning against his cheek, and you—the pretty figure skater, right there, tangled up in the aftermath. He doesnt know how this happened, still half stunned when he blinks up at you. Gosh, you were so beautiful, was he dreaming?

Soccer Player!Satoru Gojo

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After Satoru's soccer team manager retired, he got replaced with you. And Satoru thinks your really, really pretty. Through his unfailing charm and good looks, Satoru plans to make you fall for him harder than he already fell for you.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto

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You met Suguru when you almost drowned on the 5ft end of the pool. Embarrassing, I know. You swore back and forth to him that you could swim, to which he only halfway believed. But, you were cute and he enjoyed teasing you—much to your dismay—so suguru decided he wanted to keep you around. Though he never planned on falling in love with you.

Boxer!Toji Fushiguro

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Toji Fushiguro, the most feared and respected boxer in the nation, absolutely, positively, did not do love. Or relationships. or anything for that matter. Until he met you, that is. The cute little ball of attitude (from his perspective) who had no clue who the, Toji Fushiguro was. How dare you. I mean, it's not your fault you don't watch boxing, but how dare you not worship at his feet. Turns out Toji was the one who ended up worshiping you...

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Comment if you would like to be added to the taglist!

[acid-ixx]

if you guys are interested, send in an ask or comment!

will anybody be willing to hear out neglected child reader who was another one of zeus's bastard children. you're out there chasing for your stepmother (hera's attention), whilst zeus just lets you run around without his care, clearly too wrapped up in his affairs. your other siblings aren't as good to you, too, thinking another half-deity isn't worth their time—

so you'd give up, pretty much choosing to bestow the mortal world with your presence instead; because if you can't be loved by your own family, then let yourself be worshipped by passionate mortals instead.

how about romancing telemachus? what if you both learn what it's like navigating through his godly favor with athena, and you with your own powers? what if you have odysseus and penelope be the actual parent-figures you always wanted? their overprotectiveness skyrockets every time you propose to being elsewhere in ithaca, to the point you forget that it's you who has the godly powers to oppose, but how could you when a darker side of them appears every time you allow yourself to be disrespected within their palace?

how about in another place? what are you to many of the great warriors, if not for a forgotten, yet mysterious and whimsical deity? why is your name muttered in all the regions? surely, with just how much you deny your god-like origins, but still manage to capture the hearts of hundreds of suitors, you'd gain quite the infamous name despite your closed-off attitude.

imagine enough attention was garnered on your presence, that that's what was needed for them to finally notice you? but you're not quite the same child who used to pull on their robes, or look at them as brightly as the sun— no, now you deny them of any of your love. your mother, hera, finally sees you and urges you to return to olympus away from the prying eyes of many suitors and back into the domain of safety. she calls you her baby, fuzzing over you even when you openly and spitefully try to rip her hands away from fixing your 'messy' robes. zeus isn't any better, now he calls you sweet names and pretend like he hadn't actively bashed on you for your weakness back when you were begging on his throne for just a sliver of attention? he wants you to sit in between his throne and hera's? you're significantly smaller than him, he's gigantic in nature, and it doesn't help that he treats you like you could be easily squashed by him (which is every damn right possible, and it's intimidating and makes you want to cry).

and there's the issue with the others, too. so many of them used to deny you in favor of focusing on their own domains. now apollo wants to carry you off in one of his chariots to ride off the skies with him while he plays his lyre to you? artemis wants to teach you the way of the hunt under the dark, gloomy skies you used to wish under for a moment of their time? aphrodite used to spitefully shut you out of her own doors, but now she invites you in her room to gossip and play pretend while she coos and braids your hair?

and all the other gods, now wanting to take you away from the underserving - as they say it - mortal realm? that the people who built sculptures of you, who held you more lovingly more than those you grew up with, aren't worthy of your divine presence?

what a joy to be a being looming between the lines of mortal and divine, right?

a/n: this concept is better off and more coherent in my head i swear. now i don't often diverge from my main fandom, but the similarities between this and the yan! batfam is quite hilarious to me that ngl i want to make a crossover of it. and yes, this is me coping with the stress of having to deal with the sudden influx of hate in the yan! dc community, so i'm taking a short break from it to focus on this.

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: john has a bad habit of running his mouth, especially during a sparring lesson — after taking it too far, he makes it up to you in more ways than one.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john walker x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.2K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), john is a bit of an asshole, sparring lesson turned sexual, lots of banter, shower sex, teasing, cocky john, begging, making out, hair pulling kink, john walker’s praise kink, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem!rec), john is a certified munch, handjob, light face riding, suggestive ending.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: y’all do not understand how OBSESSED I am with him! like I love writing for him! this was based on a request I received! I hope you all enjoy & thank you all for your continued support! 🫶

John’s got a smug mouth — he wields it with a deft expertise, as well-honed with making offhanded quips as he is throwing around his shield. Arrogance bleeds from him like an open wound, cocksure with a constant desire to be right.

It’s a constant clash of retorts and smarmy banter that occasionally grates on the nerves of the team, including yours, even if you’re in a relationship.

Sometimes, he still speaks to you as if you’re still indifferent, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. It agitates you, but you’ve learned to pass it off as something innately harmless.

Despite the mutual agreement to conceal your newfound romance from the team, a sliver of you longed to scream it out into the open.

Instead, you resorted to stolen glances during breakfast, quick kisses in the corridor, and sneaking off at night like two teenagers.

Today, he’s wearing that peacocking attitude on his sleeve, remarks like teeth wrapping around a wound, taunting. It’s biting; beneath it are good intentions, but they’re lost to his condescension.

“You’re still leaning right.”

In the center of the training room, you’re squared up with a boxing bag, knuckles split and raw, beads of sweat glittering against your temple. Beneath your breast, your heart skittered at an accelerated pace, muscles burning with exertion.

Postured behind the heavy bag, John’s visage is one of obvious disgruntlement, jaw pulled tight, his arms folded over his chest. Blonde tresses are a touch disheveled, brows creased together.

The spandex shirt he wears occasionally distracts you, corded muscle glaringly present. He’s painfully handsome, and you want to hate him for it, especially in the moment. It’s difficult to concentrate.

It might’ve been a mistake to ask your boyfriend for hand-to-hand combat instruction; he got mean when he taught. It wasn’t malicious, but it wasn’t how you needed to learn.

Survival was a second skin to him, self-preservation interwoven into years of rigorous military experience. His instruction seemed more akin to a drill sergeant than a man trying to teach his girlfriend something new.

For John, it was ‘be stronger or die, fight or succumb’; he cared about you too much. Despite your abilities, close quarters was where you seemed to falter, and he was determined to whip you into shape.

“I don’t think so.” Composed, your gaze floats to him, standing behind the bag, blonde brows furrowing together. Flexing out an arm, you notice the tick of annoyance in his jaw.

“You don’t think so?” John echoes, countenance a half-grimace of determination. Stepping out from the bag, he mimics your boxing stance, though you’re convinced he’s exaggerating your hypothetical right lean. “This is what you look like.”

Indignant, your mouth falls open with a brief huff, as if the idea is simply preposterous to you. It doesn’t make any sense, but you concede to him, brows knitting together. “Fine. I’ll fix it.” You sigh, knowing he’s too stubborn to disagree with.

He’s taking this training aspect a little too seriously for your liking, even if the intent behind it is meaningful. “Go again.” He grits, reassuming his position behind the bag, gaze appraising your form.

A dull burn paints your sternum, breathing a touch hoarse from running drills, and his were less than forgiving. Regardless of his agitation, you prepare to go again, hands hovering around your face, body posturing against the bag.

With a soft huff, you begin again, hands pounding against the sandbag with noisy thwacks, knuckles raw, bruised from the leather’s rough exterior.

Muscles scream with a dull ache, unaccustomed to being used in such a violent manner. Fighting is something you aren’t exactly fond of; it never brings you any peace or comfort. Though, you understand the importance of learning, John is too zealous.

Stone-faced, John’s stern glower inspects your stance, following every swing of your hands, every clash of the bag. You’re still off-kilter, body teetering to the right side again, swinging with minimal momentum.

“Still leaning right,” John quips, listening to the irritated huff that tears past your lips. “Fix your stance, stop relying on your front leg.” He can taste the annoyance as it rolls from your being, but it’s necessary; he wants you to get it right.

“I’m not leaning right.” You protest, growing discouraged with your lesson. The footwork was something you could practice, but you felt as if the rest of your stance was formidable enough; maybe John was testing you.

A derisive laugh split his throat, sardonic enough to make you bristle, hands lowering to your sides. “You’re leaning to the right. Do it again, and you’ll fall over — do that in a real fight, you’re dead.”

Disdainful, your frustration only seemed to grow from there, marked by an unpleasant curl of your mouth, body running hot. The tepid haze of the training room was beginning to go to your head, air stale and arid.

“This isn’t a real fight,” Arguing over the semantics of a boxing lesson seems pathetic, but his attitude is grating on you; more so than usual. “This is practice, and you’re taking it too seriously.” You mumble, stooping to pick up your water bottle.

John scoffs, bewildered by your attitude. He doesn’t see it as practice; he sees it as a training scenario, and if you can’t properly defend yourself, he’s terrified that he won’t be able to save you in time.

He couldn’t save Lemar, couldn’t save his teammates in the desert; the thought of losing you too became a constant nightmare.

In his dreams, he was in Latvia, his shield stained with crimson, blood on his hands — sometimes it’s your blood.

His jaw twitches, the nightmare hanging fresh within the recesses of his mind, clawing its way to the forefront, as if to make the sting worse. John isn’t used to having someone care deeply about him, and vice versa.

Stepping away, you’re eager for a reprieve. “What, just like that and you’re giving up?” He’s pushing you, prodding; it isn’t right, toying with your vulnerability, but he wants you to be strong, to be capable.

“John, you’re being mean.” Within your softer cadence lies a stern warning for him to stop, as if attempting to quell his attitude before it gets worse. Cold water trickles down your throat, flesh matted by perspiration.

“I’m being realistic.” With a gritty counterpoint, John steps out from behind the bag, muscled arms folded tightly over his chest. “You need to know this stuff — if the mission gets too dangerous …”

“I can’t know it if you’re being like this.” Beneath the rugged, rough exterior, is a man who wants to ensure that you know how to protect yourself. You understand to some extent, but his demeanor is beginning to get to you.

Deciding that you’ve had enough of his lessons for the day, you walk toward the bench, retrieving your towel as you wipe sweat from your neck.

“I’m not going to coddle you,” John’s still going, attempting to make you understand where he’s coming from. “You asked for my help, and I’m helping you.” He’s already regretting the way the words sound; he’s being harsh.

Through an exasperated sigh, your brows furrow together, hands wrenched tightly into the towel as you try and relieve some of your anxiousness. Turning on your heel, you face him, chin jutting out with mild defiance.

“I don’t want you to coddle me. I just want you to drop the attitude and train me.” Despite the cordiality within your tone, you’re trying to avoid an unnecessary argument. It all feels so trivial, bickering over this.

“I don’t have an attitude,” Akin to a petulant child, his cadence is remarkably reminiscent of someone who has an attitude. Realizing how he sounds, he concedes, trailing after you as you make for the door. “Are you finished?”

“For today, yes,” Still, you’re calm, feeling him nipping at your heels all the way to your room. He doesn’t leave, much to your surprise, even as you open the door and clamor inside. “Do you have another retort to add?”

Once the both of you have privacy, the asshole demeanor begins to dissipate, as if he’s dissolving all on his own. Behind closed doors, he gets soft — and you’re the reason why.

Through a clenched jaw, John doesn’t say anything at first, watching as you dab the cloth over your brow. He cares about you so much that his chest begins to burn, despite himself.

A hush falls between, and he knows it’s a fight he lost; glaringly obvious, too. He resorts to standing by the door as you kick off your tennis shoes, a damp splotch of sweat around your collar, tresses matted against your temples.

A flicker of realization begins to dawn on him; he was being too much. You had a point with him taking it too seriously, but it was all done with the best intentions. He wanted you to learn the right way, and be safe.

John’s eyes momentarily screw shut, tension unfurling from his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” Apologizing used to feel like a weakness, but he knows it isn’t — he’s learned to accept that.

Expecting you to be smug or bite back with vitriol, you lift your head, countenance softening as you meet his gaze. “I know your intentions, and they’re good — but I’m your girlfriend, too. I want your help, but I don’t want the callousness.”

Conceding, John nods, a simple jostle of his head, blonde tresses disheveled. Even when slick with sweat and frustrated, he’s still handsome, painfully so, careworn palms rough from years of hard work. “I’ll be gentler.” He utters, sincere.

The bravado and grit wears off, as if it’s some skin he’s shed, revealing the rawness of the man underneath it all. In truth, he wants to make sure that you know how to protect yourself — eases the worrying, eases the fear.

There’s an inner turmoil he’s wrestling with; he wears it openly with you, less so with others. Vulnerability is still a concept he’s untangling, deciphering as he works through his own labyrinth of sins.

With every mission, he fears losing you — not fast enough, not strong enough, not man enough to protect you. The toxic values instilled to him by years of government propaganda are being unraveled; it’s a slow process.

“John.”

Through the shroud of his insecurities, you shatter it like sunlight through shadow, chasing away the swarm of darker thoughts that plagued him. A brief exhale escapes him as he focuses on you, his smile threadbare.

“I can’t think of a better teacher,” Truthfully, he’s incredibly skilled in all ways imaginable; he’s intelligent, too. There’s plenty to learn from him, despite his rougher methods of tutelage. “Just work on your teaching voice.”

With a bemused huff, his smile morphs into a characteristic smirk, charming — it ensnares you without a shred of effort. “I’ll work on it,” You know he will, too. “Are you okay?” He inquires, hoping that he didn’t kill your mood.

You slip off of your bed, tugging at the collar of your shirt, as it uncomfortably sticks to your skin. “I’m great, really,” Reassuringly, you smile at John, placating his brief tangle of nerves. “How are you not sweaty?”

John withholds the urge to make a flirtatious insinuation, uncrossing his arms as he watches you rifle through for clean clothes. “Watching you in those leggings did make me sweat a little.” He teases, subject to your grousing stare.

“Stop it.” You mumble, smiling despite yourself as he raises one hand in faux defense. A soft chuckle shakes his shoulders, a rarer sound that fills your bones with warmth.

Bridging the gap between you, his hands find your hips without pause, lightly tracing over the small of your back. “You’re pretty when you’re frustrated with me.” John murmurs, savoring your flustered expression as you press a hand against his chest.

“It’s a constant thing, you should be used to it.” He gets under your flesh and buries himself there, too sure of himself, mouth slacked into a gregarious smirk. Though, you like it more than you care to admit.

John attempts to kiss you, but you playfully turn at the last second, bearded mouth falling against your jaw, instead. You’re tormenting him because of the boxing thing, and he knows it.

Wriggling from his grasp, you shuffle backwards, padding toward your bathroom instead. You stop in the doorway, framed by a tranquil glow. “Are you coming?” You muse, catching him off-guard, much to your own amusement.

“What?” John’s mildly bewildered, but it seems to die down when he realizes what you’re propositioning. Hunger reveals itself with a snarl and yearning, arms flexing as his posture straightens up.

“Shower,” Despite the innocuous nature of your tone and the pretty smile, there is a hint of an ulterior motive. You squirm within your sweat-laden shirt. “I feel disgusting.” Peeling your top aside, you toss it onto the floor.

John bites back a grin, scratching at his beard before trailing after you, masking his enthusiasm. “Yes, ma’am,” He muses, kicking off his shoes beside the door, following you into the bathroom. “Want some help?”

You don’t need it, but you want it anyway, warmth spreading over the back of your neck as you turn, back facing him. Switching on the shower, you stay that way, feeling his calloused fingertips brush over your spine.

He’s unfastening your bra with a disarming tenderness, focused, warm breath pluming over the back of your neck. His musculature is firm against you, spandex t-shirt pulled taut over his chest, biceps tempting you.

Rough hands mold themselves to your body, mapping every muscle-deep bruise like a constellation, planting a kiss against your shoulder. It’s apologetic, sweet — John doesn’t have to say anything that you don’t already know.

Slowly, you turn, wedged up against the marble countertop, his body cornering yours. Wordlessly, your fingers drag to the hem of his shirt, curling into the fabric before easing it upward.

John removes it all in one smooth motion, fluid, physique raw and sinewy, corded with thick muscle, chest layered in a light dusting of blond hair. Heat wafts from his skin, peppered in days-old bruises, faded scars.

Whatever you wanted to say turns to ash in your mouth, gaze doe-eyed, adoring. It’s a look he’s still growing accustomed to, sitting with the notion that you genuinely wanted him.

“I really care about you,” Little more than a whisper, your admittance is saccharine, doing little to mask your affections for him. “Smug mouth and all.” You muse, feeling his hand dip to cup your hip, thumb tracing circles over your leggings.

“Smug mouth, huh?” John taunts with a smirk, cerulean hues burning with a desirous intensity, lips shifting to plant a kiss over your jaw. The scratch of his beard has quickly become one of your favorite sensations.

“The worst.” Your mumble is disarmingly sweet, your smile suppressed beneath an expression that attempts to veil your true feelings. Even then, he breaks through your barriers with ease.

Through a bemused huff, John’s mouth explores your throat, hands snaking down to tease the waistband of your leggings. “You don’t have anything to say about it when we’re in bed.”

The fiery quip sends a shockwave through your stomach, a stab of heat, tangling around your nerves like ivy. “John …” There is little warning in your tone, save for desperation. He’s being unfair.

Urging against your leggings, you’re subservient, letting his fingers hook into the spandex, easing you out of the garment altogether. He’s suave, cocky — that familiar arrogance is present again, but you find it attractive this time.

Steam begins to float through the bathroom, water sputtering overhead as you careen into his embrace. Stepping out of the thin fabric, you’re standing in your underwear, eager to slip beneath the hot water.

Nails idly trace over his abdomen, drawing little circles as he plants a string of kisses to your jugular. A soft exhale warbles through your nose, lips parted as you glance toward the shower.

“You’re getting distracted.” You murmur, visibly smitten as he lifts his head, hand greedily groping at the back of your thigh. John’s lips twitch into that visage of sardonicism, head cocking to one side.

“Can you blame me?” Smooth, his reply sets your nerves ablaze, something hot stirring within your belly as you sidestep toward the shower. You’re sliding out of your panties, and he’s right on your tail, kicking out of his clothes.

Stepping into the shower, a column of steaming water drizzled over your skin, washing away the sweat that clung to you. Reaching for your soap, you immediately begin to work on cleaning off.

Soothing the dull throbbing of days-old bruises and aching muscles, you sigh, stealing a glance at John.

He’s maddeningly well-endowed; annoyingly impressive like the rest of him, something you’ve told him before, and it all seemed to go to his head. He smooths a hand through his blonde tresses, slicked by water.

A delicate shade of pink clung to his cheeks; splotched, dappled over his skin, sunkissed and blanketed in a layer of freckles. Muscles flex and contort, cast in the dull glow of the bathroom, beaded droplets rolling over his abdomen.

“Are you done staring?” Ripping you from your thoughts, his snide inquiry makes you jump, caught in the act, but you’re unperturbed by it.

“No,” It’s easy to bait him by batting your eyelashes, gaze round and doe-eyed, catching the terse tick of his jaw. Your tongue scrapes over your bottom lip, soap suds gliding down your back. “You’re so handsome — just really attractive.”

The teasing lilt in your tone has dropped, replaced with a sweeter sincerity that makes his heart nearly come out of his chest. John’s gaze shifts to something heady, eclipsed by desire, festering with the shadow of want.

“Yeah?” Closer, he’s seizing your hips, lips crushing against yours in a bruising kiss. It stings, ripping every wisp of air from your lungs, leaving you burning for more. His beard scratches ragged, fingers pressed into pliant flesh.

A ragged sigh snares within your throat, manifesting as a mere hum, body vibrating with exhilaration. His pearlescent teeth briefly scrape over your bottom lip.

Eager digits clamor to sink into his chest, nails digging light crescents into his skin, a sting he thoroughly enjoys. “John,” A moan floats from your mouth, body humming with a muted buzz. “Want your mouth.”

He’s grinning, a cat who just caught the canary. That sharp tongue is already winding up with something devious to say, something agonizingly audacious.

“Thought you said it was the worst,” John grunts, remark branded against your mouth, hot and vainglorious. Impatient with his incessant teasing, his mask slips when your hand reaches to fist at the nape of his neck. “Shit.”

A flicker of surprise flutters over his features, secretly reveling in the way you’d roughly grasped at his hair. His growing arousal pulses heavily against your thigh, oozing heat, proof there for you to feel.

Mouths clash again, an amalgamation of teeth and tongue, ripples of pent-up repression oozing into each kiss. John wants you terribly, more than he ever thought possible, cock beginning to throb when you whine into his lips.

“Please,” Desperate, you’re craving him, hungry, letting it crawl over your flesh like some white-hot wave of heat. “I want you.” You say it again, pleading this time, digits threading into his hair, pulling with another wanton tug.

John is unable to deny you, gaze half-lidded, throat bobbing as he swallows the groan threatening to split through his chest. There’s some foggy, lust-ridden haze he wades through, succumbing to baser instincts.

Before another pathetic whine can burst from your mouth, he’s pushing you up against the shower wall, strong palms keeping you steady. “Jesus,” He groans into the warmth of your mouth, kissing you until your chest feels tight. “You’re killin’ me.”

His Georgian drawl tapers off with certain syllables, gooseflesh icing your spine as you let one hand caress his abdomen. He shudders, brows pinched, countenance wrought with concentration.

Water cascades over his back, an incandescent light that highlights his musculature, legs wobbling as he gets down onto his knees. His mouth paints kisses over your thighs, lifting one leg up over his shoulder.

The hand that continues to fist at the base of his skull makes him shiver, savoring the sensation as he bullies his way between your legs. Cerulean hues stay fixated on your face as his mouth makes contact with your slick cunt.

He shuts up quickly when he’s eating you out, you’ve noticed; the satisfaction flows through you in one smug wave. A scruffy beard scratches ragged against your thighs, prickling your silky flesh as his tongue drags over your slit.

The flat of his tongue rakes embers across your cunt, pulling a delighted gasp from your mouth. Everything feels hot, unbearably so, bodies tangled beneath the shower’s heated pressure.

Bracing against his body, his own musculature supports you without breaking a sweat, one hand molded to your thigh, the other firm atop your hip. “You’re so good at this.” You whine, knowing how much he savors your praise.

John growls into your cunt as if he’s some beast on all fours, tongue greedily splitting past your folds, caressing over your sensitive flesh.

He grips you like a vice, caging you firmly against the wall, nose grazing your mound. Keeping you anchored to his mouth, he’s consuming you like a man starved, deprived of sustenance.

Fingers flex through blonde tresses, tugging and pulling, coaxing him closer as your hips jolt unexpectedly. The friction isn’t unwelcome, and he treats you to a barrage of enthused laps, tongue possessing a mind of its own.

The cocksure demeanor diminishes when his mouth is preoccupied; he doesn’t complain, thoroughly getting off on letting you ride his face.

With slow, eager laps of his tongue, John made sure to savor you, letting the flat of his tongue fall heavy across your clit. His name plumes from your mouth like a prayer.

The short, dizzying gasp that tore past your mouth spurred him on, as he pressed another string of kisses against your slit.

“J—John,” Raw, the noise splits through your diaphragm, heaving with labored sighs, cunt pulsing with spasms of pleasure. “Fuck, plea—please don’t stop!” A whine coagulates within the back of your throat, ceaselessly needy.

You urged him closer, hips rolling into the fervent heat of his mouth, thighs quivering as he treated you to a lap of his tongue. Circled strokes dance over your cunt; once, twice, three times.

This barrage of bliss assaulted your body with such intensity, molten heat churning within the pit of your stomach, oozing between your thighs.

Bittersweet arousal swarmed his lips, the taste of you, something he craved. His mouth is a thing of perfection, pleasuring you as if it’s his sworn duty, tongue lapping at every inch of your cunt.

His ministrations are gentle, disarmingly so, careworn palms caressing into your hips, keeping you slotted against his face. Lapping openly at your core, you shiver, feeling his nose graze your clit.

The scruff of his blonde beard scratches ragged over the inside of your thighs, sandpaper to silk, the sensation pleasant. You’re writhing, a tangle of nerves and mounting ecstasy, leg rattling beneath his hold.

His name emerges from your mouth again, desperate and wanton, breathy as you squirm. Lips climb from your heated core to your clit, pressing a string of kisses there, tongue brushing over the clutch of nerves.

John’s mouth is voracious, tongue endlessly greedy, eating you out as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Circling around your clit, he begins to lap over your pearl, feeling your legs tremor around him, muscles spasmodic, twitching.

“So handsome like this.” A ragged sigh is pulled from your diaphragm, ecstasy sown by John’s own need and determination. The remark is enough to make him ache, your body vibrating around him.

Daring to look down, your heart nearly bursts from your chest when you realize he’s watching you, smirk palpable, cerulean hues burning.

Through a shadowed stare, eyes blown with lust, he’s got you pinned, sucking the air from your lungs as if he owns you. He wants to say something, but he’s too absorbed with eating you out.

Rendered speechless beneath his incendiary gaze, your stomach churns with molten heat, body on fire, a ceaseless throbbing pulsing between your legs.

Your cunt pathetically clenches around nothing at all, hips absently grinding into his mouth. “John — fuck — please, m’close!” Slurred, you’re trying your best not to smother him.

As if to tempt you further, his lips purse around your clit, taunting, catching the blissed-out look in your eyes. It’s that damned doe-eyed stare he’s hooked on, sucking on that bundle of nerves with a twinge of passion.

Teetering on the precipice of an explosion, you’re rattling, shaking like a leaf, thighs tensing on either side of his head.

He presses you further, a low hum tumbling from his mouth, still fervently revolving around your clit.

White-hot spots blind your vision, jaw unhinged, a myriad of moans leaving you, unrestrained. The noise evokes a throaty groan from him, chest reverberating, sending tingles through your spine like spikes of heat.

John’s still buried between your thighs, interchanging between suckling your clit and broad, flat strokes of his tongue. Each caress, every lap of his mouth sends you into some frenzy, hips urging forward.

A white-hot rush of ecstasy swarmed you, voice tapering off into incoherent praises and wanton moans, filling the shower with your delighted cries. Half-babbles, whimpers, strangled whines emerge from your throat.

Feeling your body pulse around him, a low grunt splits his diaphragm, your legs trembling, muscles twitching in the aftermath. Even still, your mind is foggy, shrouded by a haze of desire.

Conceding, he plants another kiss to your core, followed by a rough lap of his tongue, beard soaked by both water and your arousal.

Unlatching his mouth from your cunt, he exhales, visage splotched with scarlet, pupils expanded with lust as he moves upright. Your lips press a lingering kiss to his collar, a flicker of mischief in your eyes.

His cock throbbed incessantly, the pressure coiled within his abdomen, unexpectedly seizing when your hand wrapped around his length. “Chr — Damn, easy.” John groans, sudden and wanting, hands seizing your hips.

It gets under his skin, how easily he succumbs to you, and with a mere flick of your wrist, he’s prepared to come undone in your hand. Flushed and frustrated, his mouth clamors for yours, biting at your bottom lip.

He’s painfully hard in your palm, bleeding heat, slick within your grasp as you give his cock several sluggish, gentler strokes. There’s a tension prevalent in his shoulders, one that unfurls when you make him cum.

John shudders, mouth dropping to the hollow between your throat and shoulder, maiming it with snags of teeth and bruising hickeys. A low whine escapes you, hand vigorous as you pull him into his release.

Your name spills from his tongue, hoarse and husky, warmth spreading over your body like an encroaching wildfire. It’s quick, but he was riled up already from eating you out.

Blissed-out and satiated, John’s brows pinch together, countenance a thing of unbridled satisfaction as you finish him off. After a few languid strokes of your hand, he’s looking relaxed.

“Jesus,” John forces a laugh, trailing a hand through his soaked tresses, reaching behind you to shut the water off. “Feeling better?” He remarks, unable to bite back the grin that curls the corner of his mouth.

Nodding, you’re smiling, smitten as he drapes a towel around you, planting a slow kiss against your jaw. “Mm-hm.” Humming, your hands are fumbling with the towel, drying yourself off before stepping out of the shower.

With a cheshire smirk, his hands grazed over your waist, lips molding themselves to the back of your neck. “That’s it? Just mm-hm?” He gruffs, his pride mildly wounded, hoping you’d have plenty to say.

Pillars of steam wisp from the bathroom, clouding through your quarters as you search for something comfortable to wear. “If I say what’s on my mind, you’ll brag. I’m keeping you humble.” You tease, lashes fluttering.

“Right,” John huffs, though you know it’s a mutual banter you’ve maintained, playful teasing that’s become incredibly soft. He doesn’t mind; he likes it, really. “When you’re begging me again, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

Despite the theatrical, pointed glare you give him, you’re smiling; flustered, truthfully. He’s a cocky bastard, obnoxious, but he makes you feel protected, warm. He makes you feel wanted, when you always thought otherwise.

Some of his clothes have made it to your room after one too many nights together; he’s gotten used to it. A pair of black shorts sit on his waist, musculature bared for you, mostly.

John gawks, a brief huff escaping him when he realizes what shirt of his you’re wearing; it’s a callback, for sure. Custer’s Grove High School football, with the emblems of a bear on the front.

“Where did you find that artifact?” He scoffs, blonde brows furrowing with intrigue as you swivel around, clad in your underwear-and-his-shirt combination. You must’ve been digging deep in his wardrobe to find it.

“Underneath your dress shirts,” You remark, lips pulling apart. “I can take it off if it …” Trailing off, John silences you with a chaste kiss, playfully patting your leg, briefly squeezing at the pliant flesh of your thigh.

“No, keep it,” John’s cadence softens, cerulean hues clinging to a distant memory which seems to dissipate as quickly as it appeared. “You look beautiful.”

As he settles along the edge of your mattress, you’re climbing into his lap, eliciting a sarcastic chuckle from him, visibly perplexed. Lips softly tangle together, tender, and he feels himself steadily getting worked up again.

Evening the score, his hands wander toward your haunches, molding themselves to your flesh, palms squeezing and groping. Your digits are in his damp tresses again, tugging, visage riddled with a stern warning.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” John grunts, feeling your lips curl into a smile against his mouth. He withdraws, only to get a good look at you, prettier than anything he’s ever seen before. “I’m serious.”

“I’m serious.” As if invoking a challenge, your countenance pinches into a look of stoicism, though you’re poking fun at him simultaneously.

“Fine.” His voice is low and raspy, a delicious husk that fills your bones with fire. He fires off, strong enough to manhandle you onto your back, bullying his way between your legs, kissing you ragged.

You’re rendered immobile by morning.

[bluesidez]

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane. 

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway. 

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up. 

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself. 

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head. 

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying. 

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door. 

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband. 

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display. 

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button. 

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming. 

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island. 

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips. 

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response. 

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest. 

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined. 

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips. 

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting. 

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment. 

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you. 

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading. 

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back. 

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection. 

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you. 

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it. 

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama. 

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom. 

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early. 

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door. 

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself. 

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did. 

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues. 

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day. 

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek. 

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.” 

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time. 

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven. 

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet. 

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly. 

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.  

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10. 

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit. 

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure. 

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone. 

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away. 

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.  

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner. 

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight. 

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths. 

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms. 

You couldn’t ask for anything better. 

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think. 

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it. 

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good. 

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say. 

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much. 

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped. 

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn. 

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you. 

You’re starting to think the worst. 

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working. 

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time. 

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with. 

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had. 

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house. 

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom. 

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.  

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand. 

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat. 

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry. 

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp. 

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back. 

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.” 

So much for communication. 

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides. 

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout. 

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight. 

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length. 

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers. 

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep. 

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length. 

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face. 

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better. 

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him. 

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls. 

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically. 

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time. 

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it. 

It was all too much. 

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message. 

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper. 

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you. 

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Mating Season

Halsin x Female Reader | sexual frustration | sexual tension | growly bear halsin | totally adoring halsin | horny bear mating instincts | semi-shifted sex | fluff | smut | nsfw

How Halsin’s romance might have played out if we could have had his kisses, adoration, and been totally railed senseless by Oak Daddy from the end of Act I. An ode to Halsin’s hairy chest, big arms, and the vein that I know stands out so thickly on his *muffled horny noises*

After a long and tiring day of fighting off goblins as you search for the Githyanki Crèche, you groan in relief as you sink into the cool waters of the river. Everyone else is back at camp and you’re able to enjoy the currents swirling around your naked body. 

You float in the water, thinking about how much your party has grown in the past few weeks. First Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion, then Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach, and finally Halsin, the wildshape druid you rescued from the goblins. He’s a focused member of the group, a valuable healer, and an unstoppable force in battle. You occasionally feel things turning against you in a fight, and then Halsin is there, supporting the group and laying down swathes of flame, lightning and ice. His bear shape never fails to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. 

Around the fire at night, he talks openly about his quest to free the Shadow-Cursed lands, his admiration for the party, and his praise for your leadership. His gentle words about you have your body prickling with awareness of his. 

That warm smile of his. His large and clever hands. His deep, gentle voice. Everything about this man makes you tingle all the way down to your toes. Whenever you think his gaze is lingering on your mouth, he murmurs goodnight to you and leaves your side. You watch him go, wishing that instead he would reach out and touch you.

An angry, snarling sound fills the air and you sit up in the water. Not far from you, an enormous bear, grunting and breathing hard, walks heavily down the riverbank. It’s huge, and its muscular body blocking out the setting sun, and from the noises it's making and its attitude, it’s a hair's-breadth from lashing out at anything that moves. 

You freeze, not daring even to breathe, hoping with everything you have that the animal will turn around and head back the other way. Instead, it launches itself into the water with an almighty splash. 

As it disappears beneath the surface, you notice a faint scar over the bear’s right eye, as if it’s been clawed. You recognize that scar. 

Wait, is this--

Golden light flashes. The water seethes. A man stands up where there was a bear just moments ago, water cascading from his body. Halsin, and he must have stripped before he changed into wildshape for now he’s completely naked, standing hip-deep in the water. 

He’s partly turned away from you but you can tell his manner is no less worked up than it was in bear form. He swipes his hands angrily through his dripping hair and breathes hard, the muscles of his shoulders and arms clenched in frustration. 

Halsin is one of the gentlest-natured men you’ve ever met, most of the time. Like nature, he too can be wild, his eyes flashing and his voice breaking like thunder over you when he’s frustrated or disappointed, such as when he was remonstrating Kagha for the Rite of Thorns. How magnificent he was that day. 

But what is he restless for now? He stands in the water, looking around at the forest, gripped with frustration, and when he turns a little more your way you can see that the root of his cock is thickened in a tell-tale manner. 

Ah. 

That kind of frustration. 

You quietly make your way to the edge of the river where a willow tree is trailing in the water, moving as carefully and as quietly as you can. This feels like a private moment you’re intruding on. Even though you don’t mean to spy, it feels like you are. The fronds of the willow provide a little cover for you, and hopefully Halsin will cool off and leave the way he came. 

The dice do not roll your way this evening as he approaches you, seeking deeper water. A moment later, your gazes lock, and his eyes widen in surprise.

‘What are you doing there?’

‘I wasn’t spying on you,’ you tell him quickly. ‘I thought you needed some peace, so I was waiting here quietly.’

His eyes run over you, your back pressed against the river bank and cowering amid the willow leaves. 

Halsin heaves a regretful sigh. ‘I frightened you, didn’t I? I am sorry. It’s all right, I am myself again.’ 

He smiles and holds out his hand. It’s a tight smile, like he’s forcing it for you, but you’re no longer worried a bear is about to disembowel you.  

You place your cool fingers into his large, hot ones and let him draw you slowly out of your hiding place. The water is deep enough here that your nakedness is covered, and so is his.

You relax as you gaze up at him, enjoying the sensation of Halsin holding your hand. Quietly enjoying the sight of his bare chest and handsome face. You hope he might walk you into the shallows so you can be naked together, but he remains in deep water, sunk in thought.

‘The river is yours. I’ll leave you to enjoy it,’ you murmur, and glance to where you left your clothes. 

Halsin’s fingers are still tightly twined through yours beneath the water. He seems to be in a world of his own as he gazes at your mouth, your throat, the droplets of water sliding through your wet hair and down your shoulders. A world that includes you. A world where you’re touching one another. 

‘Halsin?’ you ask tentatively. Hopefully. If he wants to move closer and kiss you, that’s more than okay with you. After a long and dusty day, there’s nothing you’d like more than exploring his body in the cool water. That hairy chest of his. His hard muscles. You long to run your tongue over him. Flex your fingers on his biceps. Trace the red tattoo on his cheek.

Halsin comes back into himself with a deep inhale, and he lets go of your hand. ‘Then I’ll see you back at camp.’ He moves away from you through the currents. 

As you push the water from your body and dress in your clothes, you search for Halsin in the river, but he’s disappeared around a bend. 

***

Later around the campfire, you’re hyper aware of Halsin as you talk with Gale about his home in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is silent, the campfire flickering over his handsome face. You try not to pay him any more attention than you do the others, but your interest in him has spilled over into blazing attraction.

Your gazes lock and Halsin’s brows are drawn tightly together. 

Is he glaring at you? 

A moment later he gets to his feet and, unnoticed by the others, slips away into the darkness. Something’s eating at that man and you wish you knew what.

A short time later, you take a bottle down to the river to refill it with water before turning and heading for your bed. As you round the corner of the ruin where you’ve made your camp, you run straight into Halsin. 

His eyes widen and they flare with heat and surprise, and then he quickly looks away and moves past you.

‘Have I done something to make you angry with me?’ you call after him. 

Halsin stops dead. He stares straight ahead for a moment, and then slowly turns to you, shaking his head. ‘Far from it. I am worked up and frustrated, but not with anger.’

Maybe his frustrations are because of you, and that’s a thought you don’t know what to do with when he keeps avoiding you. 

Not knowing what else to say, you tell him, ‘We will free the Shadow-Cursed lands soon. I know we will.’

He breathes out heavily, his expression troubled. ‘I’m not thinking of the Shadow-Curse right now, even though I should be. It is more important than anything I...’ He trails off, but his gaze lingers on your mouth. ‘...want.’

Halsin steps closer, and you feel the heat blazing off his chest. His warmth and bulk are so welcoming and you crave to reach out and touch him. The backs of his fingers caress your hair. The lightest of touches. Then he takes a handful of your hair and dips his head, bringing the strands to his nose. 

‘You smell wonderful.’ He heaves a deep sigh, and whispers, ‘Can I hold you for a moment?’

That sounds lovely to you, and you nod. 

Halsin wraps an arm around your waist, scoops you against him, and buries his face in your neck. ‘By Silvanus, your scent is sweet,’ he groans. ‘I caught it when we first met, in that foul goblin nest. How it pleased me. Getting to know you these past few weeks has been even sweeter.’

Your hands are plastered against his chest and so is your body. He’s saying everything you hoped to hear. More than you hoped to hear. He has such a beautiful way with words. You turn your head so he can kiss you, but he still refrains. 

Taking a ragged breath, he releases you and steps back. ‘I’m sorry. It’s always difficult this time of year.’

You miss his warmth so much that you shiver. ‘What time of year?’

He gazes at you for a long time. ‘You may laugh, but I’ll tell you. It’s bear mating season.’

You don’t laugh, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

‘I know--I’m no bear,’ Halsin says with a laugh of his own, ‘but I spend so much time in wildshape that bear instincts tug on my heart and...other parts of me. I return to my own form and unfortunately the needs do not dissipate. In fact, they worsen, because it is not a bear I want. When she comes close to me smelling like spring and honey and warm sunshine I can’t help but crave her.’ A smile glimmers on his lips.

Enough being vague. You want to hear him say it. You step closer and put a hand against his chest. ‘A general someone, or anyone in particular?’

He groans softly and captures your face in his hands. He drinks you in and swipes his thumb across your lips. The gesture is soft, and full of the promise of his kiss.

‘You are someone I admire and I think I could grow to care deeply about,’ he murmurs. ‘I care about you so much already. Any little scratch you receive I want to push Shadowheart out of the way and tend to you myself.’

Your heart soars.

‘But this isn’t how or when I wanted to begin anything with you. I have to walk away.’

Disappointment plummets through you. 

He’s still holding your face and his expression is conflicted. It seems he wants to put an end to this for now but can’t bring himself to do it. 

‘I can walk away, if that helps?’

His eyes fill with gratitude and longing. ‘Please. That would be a mercy. Know that when the time comes, I will come to you with more than lust in my heart.’

You nod, trailing your fingers down his chest as you step back, but you fail to see what’s wrong with him desiring you. ‘Whatever you need. Of course.’

‘I hope I haven’t offended you.’

You smile gently at him. ‘Your desire is so far from offensive. Please know that I don’t demand more of your attention than you’re willing to give. The Shadow Cursed lands are your priority and I’m...’ How to put this delicately? I’m here for you and you can rail me senseless in between your duties whenever you want to let off steam. That’s what you want to say, but you’re too shy to say it. ‘...Here. Your friend. Always.’

Halsin seems to catch your meaning anyway as his jaw flexes and he nods slowly. 

You promised him you would walk away, and you do, and though you give him ample time to allow him to pull you back, the next sound you hear is a clash and a growl, and a flare of golden light. When you glance over your shoulder, a bear is thundering into the woods on all fours. 

***

A few days later, you’re returning to camp feeling like you’ve been put through a meat grinder, and your companions haven’t fared much better. Gale is unusually silent and covered in blood. Shadowheart is exhausted and dragging her feet. You’re trying not to limp because she and Halsin have already cast so much healing magic. Something’s wrong with your leg, but you’ll see to it yourself when you’re alone. 

The others bid you tired farewells as they head for their tents, but someone catches your arm and holds you back.

‘Oak Father, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?’ 

Halsin is staring at your legs, and you stare with him. Blood is pooling around your foot. Oh, that’s not good. 

‘I can tend to it myself after I’ve had some rest--’

Your words are cut off as the massive druid picks you up in his arms and carries you into a crumbling barn. Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean against the solid bulk of his chest. Halsin lays you down on a pallet and helps you remove your armour, revealing a ragged gash on the top of your thigh. Your clothes have to be cut away until your legs are bare.

Halsin looks exhausted and has dark circles under his eyes. It seems he’s been taking little rest as he roams the forests nightly as a bear. When he reaches for you to lay healing hands on your wound, you place a hand on his wrist.

‘You don’t have to do this right now. I’ll bandage myself up and someone can heal me after they’ve rested.’

Halsin raises challenging eyebrows at you. ‘You believe I don’t have the strength to heal you myself? That I’ll walk away from the most important person in my life and leave her bleeding?’

You moisten your lips, trying not to show how much his words have affected you. The most important person in his life? Suddenly you don’t feel injured at all, and he hasn’t even healed you yet.

‘I have more than enough magic left for this. Now, lay back and let me do my work, and then you can get back to yours.’

You settle back on the pallet and gaze at the cobwebby rafters. Halsin’s hands hover over your thigh, and a warm, delicious feeling spreads through your leg, and then up between your thighs. Your head falls back in relief and pleasure. 

Even Halsin makes a surprised noise. ‘That felt...’ He rubs your now-healed high, massaging the last of the tension and pain from your muscles. ‘That felt different. How’s your thigh now?’ 

You can’t help but moan and arch your back a little at his touch. ‘Good.’ Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

‘Just good?’ He strokes his palm over where there was a cut just moments ago. 

‘Halsin, please, you make me feel heavenly,’ you whimper. The words pass your lips without thinking. You reach up to take hold of his shoulders so you can pull him down to kiss you, but pull back before you can touch him. 

This isn’t what he wants. Your hands clench on the pallet, feeling your core ache with need. As soon as he leaves, you can get yourself off thinking about him. 

‘Would you like me to go?’ he asks softly. 

‘I never want you to go.’

His hand rests lightly on your leg. 

You open your eyes and gaze up at him, and he’s sitting so close to you. ‘But if you stay, you’re going to see me touching myself.’ Then you smile at him, remembering your last conversation. ‘I would love for you to see that. As a friend.’

You want him to see you. You want him to participate.

He smiles and leans down to you, and runs the blade of his nose up your cheek. ‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful after a long, hard day, my dear friend.’

Halsin lays down beside you and props his head against his fist. With gentle fingers, he helps you to drag your underwear down your legs and cast them aside. As your teeth sink into your lower lip, you gently touch yourself, your eyes on his handsome face. Halsin strokes your thighs, your stomach, finds the fastenings on your clothes and loosens them. As he pulls back your bodice, revealing your breasts, he lowers his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. 

You cry out and flex up into him. Heat is gathering within you. You suck on your lower lip and release it. ‘Please--your fingers--I need--’ you manage between pants. You can barely get the words out, but he understands. Halsin drags two fingers through your sex, making them slippery, and then sinks them inside you. 

Another loud cry from you. Gods, he feels perfect.

Halsin groans and kisses your throat, murmuring, ‘You’re so tight around me. Have you been as frustrated as I am?’ He pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, slowly at first, and then faster.

Yes you have, the godsdamned stubborn bear of man. He should have pulled you into his arms that day in the river and let you suck all the frustration from his body out through his cock. 

‘So frustrated,’ you whimper. ‘Please, that feels so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.’ 

He brushes his lips over yours. ‘I won’t stop. You’re always so beautiful, but like this, all of nature pales in comparison.’

You reach down and lay your hand over his wrist, adoring the tension and flex of his muscles in his arm as he moves inside you. Your fingers keep moving on your clit as you moan and cry out his name, and when you come you dig your nails into his flesh, and press your feet into the ground so he can fuck you even harder with his fingers.

When you fall back exhausted, Halsin sits up and spreads your thighs open, trailing his fingers over your sex and drinking in the sight of you as you catch your breath. ‘Your body is wondrous.’ He leans over and kisses you, his tongue caressing yours. ‘Will you rest well tonight?’ 

You nod, feeling drunk from his kiss and your climax. 

He smiles. ‘Then I’ll rest well too, knowing that you’re sleeping soundly. Thank you for sharing this beautiful moment with me.’

As he sits up, you notice that he’s hard inside his tight pants. Excessively hard. Huge in fact. He shouldn’t be leaving, he should be pulling off his clothes and pounding the living daylights out of you until he also gets the release he needs. 

But he’s gone before you can call him back to you. That’s not why he just blew your mind, was it? He healed you, and now he wants you to get some rest. Druid’s orders, apparently. 

You smile and roll over, and fall into a doze. 

***

The next morning, before anyone has arisen, Halsin finds you coming back from the river. You smile at him, thinking he looks so handsome in the morning light, and you expect him to keep moving past you. Instead, he stops and smiles at you, as if basking in the sight of you is all he wants right now. 

‘May I have a kiss?’ you ask hopefully. Perhaps he’s decided not to want anything for himself right now, but he still wants to make you happy. 

Without needing to be asked twice, Halsin grasps you around the waist with his large hands and walks you back against the wall, kissing you enthusiastically. ‘I can still smell you on my fingers this morning. I could smell you all night. You are a delight.’

Your lips part for his so he can kiss you even deeper. With your arms around his neck, you revel in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

‘I find you irresistible.’ Another kiss. ‘But we have much to do today.’ Another kiss. 

‘We do,’ you say, smiling as he kisses you again. 

He gazes down at you for a moment, a slight frown between his brows. ‘If you need more, know that I won’t be offended if you take another lover. Nature intends for us to roam and be free.’

You have considered that, if not someone at camp, then a handsome stranger at a tavern, but you’d only be thinking about Halsin the whole time. ‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘You must do as pleases you,’ he replies, and kisses you again.

You guess that he didn’t tell you this for idle reasons, but to let you know about his own preferences. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his russet hair. ‘I have always wanted my own person, but to roam with them. Share everything with them. I would miss you too much if I was to roam without you.’

He smiles down at you. ‘Us, with others? I would like that, in time. You’re more than enough for me, but I wouldn’t wish for you to be denied anything. Seeing you with another lover, and participating as well...it sounds wonderful.’ Then he steps away from you. ‘But we are getting ahead of ourselves. My thoughts turn to other things for now. But they will turn back to you.’

With a final warm squeeze of your hand, he leaves you, but your heart is lighter than it’s been in a long time. 

***

Two nights later, you’re awoken by snarling and roaring in the distance, and you sit bolt upright. It sounds like two large animals are fighting in the woods. 

Only Astarion is awake. ‘What a ridiculous racket,’ he mutters with a scowl, before licking his thumb and turning the page of the book he’s reading. 

You look over at Halsin’s pallet, knowing it’s going to be empty before you lay eyes on it, but your stomach drops just the same when you see that it is. You scramble to your feet and set off at a run into the darkness. 

You follow the roaring and snarling and it doesn’t take long to find two bears fighting with teeth bared and swipes of their claws. You recognise Halsin from the scars over his eye.

What can you do to help him? A spell? A cantrip?  

Before you can decide, Halsin swipes the other bear so hard across the snout that it reels back, and then turns and runs away into the woods. 

Halsin paces up and down for a moment, and then golden light ripples, nearly blinding you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s striding toward you. His chest is heaving and blood is pouring from scratches and bites across his shoulders and throat. Nothing life threatening, but he’d be in pain if he wasn’t so angry.

‘That bear was looking for a mate, and I wasn’t having it prowling around her when I haven’t even tasted her myself.’

Halsin when he’s feeling himself wouldn’t say something so uncharacteristically possessive. It must be the mating season instincts overriding his natural feelings. ‘That bear wouldn’t have been interested in me.’ Also, you could have tasted me by now if you’d wanted to.

He doesn’t seem to have heard you as he glares into the darkness. Suddenly, he rounds on you. ‘It’s dangerous out here. You shouldn’t have come. Go back to bed.’

You fold your arms and stay where you are. The big alpha bear can throw his weight around, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to jump to obey his commands. ‘Shouldn’t have come? Would you have ignored me if I was being attacked in the woods?’

Halsin takes a deep breath and some of the anger melts from his face. He pushes his hands through his hair and shakes his head. ‘Of course not, I would never abandon you like that. Thank you for coming out here to help me. I promise I’m not ungrateful. I’m all out of sorts because...’ He gestures vaguely at himself and the woods around you both. 

You smile at him. ‘I know. It’s mating season.’

You help him pick dirt and gravel out of his cuts before he casts healing magic on himself, but you’re not ready to leave him and go to bed. The river is close by and you take his hand and lead him to the water. 

‘Let’s wash the blood and dirt off you.’

At the riverbank, hesitantly you reach for his clothes. He says nothing but he’s watching you with such intensity, and so you find the fastenings and help him out of them. With gentle fingers, he does the same for you. The night air is warm and still. Crickets are chirping and the river makes gentle rushing noises. The two of you are standing so close that you’re breathing each other’s breaths. His massive chest lifts and falls. Your nipples tighten with awareness of him. You don’t want to stare but you can’t help but look at this beautiful man as you undress him. 

Halsin helps you out of your underwear, and his cock bumps against your thigh. He’s so hard that he’s standing to attention, his foreskin drawn back, a drop of pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters, and you want to run your tongue along the thick vein that stands out on his shaft.

‘Sorry. Ignore me,’ he mutters. 

You don’t want to ignore the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen, but you keep your hands to yourself and look up at him. ‘I want to feel flattered. Should I feel flattered?’

‘You know I think you’re wonderful,’ he breathes, caressing your face. 

Oh, by all the gods, then fuck me, please. 

‘Would you want me even if it wasn’t mating season?’

‘Of course I would, though I’d probably be better at keeping that to myself. You wouldn’t awaken to hear me fighting other bears in the woods, or see me staring at you with longing across the campfire. I’d still feel the same way, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. Probably.’

‘Do you mind that mating season makes you feel and act this way?’

He smiles and shakes his head. ‘It is who I am, and another connection I have to nature.’

‘Halsin. For a wildshape druid who believes in going with what’s natural, you’re very stubborn about resisting what your body is telling you it wants.’

A smile curves his lips. ‘You may be right. I’ve told myself that focusing on the Shadow Curse is the right and only thing to do, but...’

Halsin ducks his head and slants his mouth over yours. The kiss is so fierce and sudden, and pleasure takes a swan dive through your body. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you to him.

‘This isn’t how I imagined things between us,’ he murmurs. ‘I intended to come to you after the curse is lifted and declare my feelings for you, and tell you that my unburdened heart is yours.’ 

‘Please still do that,’ you breathe, planting soft kisses again and again on his mouth. ‘I would love that. But don’t walk away from me now.’ 

‘You want me, even though my mind is often on things other than you?’

What a romantic Halsin is, wanting to give you his whole heart at once, or nothing at all. ‘Of course I do,’ you tell him, your fingers stroking his bare back. You don’t need that declaration yet. You just need him. 

Halsin lifts you in his arms and carries you into the water, gazing into your eyes. The water flows around your bodies as he kisses you and places you on your feet.

He nods at something over your shoulder. ‘I have to taste you. Turn around and put your hands on that rock.’

You do as he asks, standing thighs-deep in the water and bent over with your hands braced against the river bank. Halsin kneels down in the water and cups your ass. 

‘So beautiful...’ You feel his tongue run up your sex, and you moan and close your eyes. He’s slow and languorous about it. Not trying to make you come, just tasting you thoroughly and enjoying the sensation of you against his tongue. 

Halsin stands up and when you glance over your shoulder you see him gazing at your sex as he strokes you with his fingers and fists his cock slowly up and down. 

‘Can I have you, sweet one?’ he asks huskily. 

‘Please, gods, yes .’ You’ll go crazy if he holds back a moment longer.

You feel him step closer, and the blunt head of his cock slides against your slippery entrance. He feels alarmingly thick and you take a deep breath and try to relax. 

With a muttered oath, he sinks into you. As much of him as he can, anyway. Gods, he’s a lot . You walk your feet apart, trying to accommodate more of him. 

‘Too much?’ he asks, hesitating. 

You shake your head desperately. ‘Not too much. More, please.’

He fucks you slowly, working himself deeper by delicious increments, while your cries fill the night air along with his ragged breathing. His blunt nails scratch your flesh. He roughly squeezes handfuls of your ass. 

You reach down between your legs and touch yourself, and you grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to fuck you in long, smooth strokes. Every single one makes your insides light up. Your orgasm is barrelling down on you surprisingly fast. 

‘Please, fuck me hard, I’m going to come,’ you beg him. 

Halsin groans and takes your hips in a secure grip and slams into you, over and over, hard, brutal and heavenly thrusts. You push against the rock to hold you steady as a wild, untamable sensation crashes over you, and you cry out loud enough for the whole forest to hear you. 

Your head is hanging low and you’re panting as you feel Halsin draw out of you.

‘But you haven’t come,’ you protest, straightening up and turning around. It’s what you want, to see and feel this beautiful man let go. 

He takes your hand and helps you out of the river. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

He lays back on the grass and pulls you astride him so your thighs are straddling him. ‘I want to see you like this as well.’

Hungry for more, you grasp his cock and sink down his length. Halsin groans and his head tips back, and he squeezes both your breasts in his large hands. His throat is so beautiful, and so is his chest. You draw patterns in his chest hair as you move up and down his length. 

Weeks of frustration and wanting him haven’t been fulfilled by one climax, and soon you feel another one gathering within you. He watches you with a smile as you desperately moan and pant his name. As your cries reach a crescendo, Halsin plants his feet securely against the ground and pushes sharply up into you, over and over, making you shatter around him even harder than before.

You collapse forward on his chest, weakened and helpless, his cock still lodged deep inside you. 

‘That was wonderful,’ you moan, your cheek plastered against his chest. ‘Give me a moment and we can change positions. I’m not stopping until you come.’

He rubs circles on your back. ‘I think I might shift into wildshape if we keep going. I can feel the need getting stronger and stronger.’ 

‘I don’t mind. Your bear form is pretty sexy.’

He laughs softly, a surprised sound. ‘Really? I’m pleased you think so.’

Even sexier is the way he looks while he’s changing, his body even bulkier and hair sprouting everywhere. ‘Can you change part ways?’

His hand stops moving on your back as he considers this. ‘I can. I think it might be easier for me to maintain that, rather than one or the other.’

Halsin rolls you both over until you’re on your back in the grass and pinned beneath him. With a heavy hand on your inner thigh, he pushes your knees up to your chest and thrusts deeper, and then again. 

‘By Silvanus, you feel wonderful,’ he pants.

A ripple goes through his body. His eyes turn fiercely golden. The hair thickens across his chest and spreads over his shoulders and down his arms. His top lip pulls back from his teeth, revealing thick incisors. His cock swells to what feels like twice its size inside you. You gaze at him in wonder. He looks incredible like this. 

As he continues to pump his cock into you, you press your hands against his muscular, hairy stomach, struggling to accommodate all of him. 

‘I’m hurting you,’ he realises, his voice more growl than words. ‘I can change back.’

‘No, don’t stop. Just slow down for a moment. It’s a good problem to have.’ You reach down to the place where you’re joined and wrap your fingers around his slippery thickness. Gods, that’s wonderful. So is his bulk looming over you and the rich, animal scent of his body. He thrusts carefully, watching you closely, his golden gaze roaming over you. 

‘So beautiful, sweet one,’ he rumbles. ‘Are you sure you like me like this?’

‘Yes, oh gods, yes.’

With every thrust, it’s getting easier for him to slide his whole length deep inside you, and pleasure stabs through you every time he bottoms out. 

You reach up and cup his furred cheek. ‘I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even sexier like this. How does it feel for you?’

He groans and seems to take courage from your words. ‘Like I’m finally free. No longer fighting what I crave.’ The speed of his thrusts pick up, and he devours you hungrily. ‘You’re so good to me.’  

His breathing becomes a throaty snarl. His claws dig lovingly into your thigh. His hips move in a relentless rhythm, long thrusts, and then shorter, urgent ones, and you can tell he’s nearing his peak. You hold onto his shoulders for dear life as his body stiffens and his climax breaks through him, and he throws his head back.

With a groan, he sinks down onto his elbow and buries his face in your throat. As you hold him tight, you feel him shift back to his human form, his skin smooth and damp with perspiration. 

Halsin lifts his head and kisses you. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. Was it all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

You hasten to assure him that he didn’t and it was everything you wanted.

He smiles. ‘How wonderful you are.’

You stroke his sweaty hair back. Neither have I. You’re so beautiful always, and especially seeing you like that, through wildshape eyes.’

He rolls onto his side in the grass and wraps both his arms around you, keeping you tight against his chest. ‘I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. The world feels so much better now I have you in my arms.’

‘How long does mating season last?’ you ask. You hope it’s a long time, and he needs you often. 

He laughs, a deep sound reverberating through his chest. ‘It’s every moment I lay eyes on you, sweet one.’

‘I hope that I haven’t distracted you from your duties.’

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m more motivated than ever.’

You lay like that together in the grass until Halsin feels your cooling body shiver. 

He helps you to your feet and draws you into his arms for one last, tender kiss. Cradling your face in his hands, he murmurs, ‘You are the person I admire most in the world. I feel honoured by every moment I spend by your side.’ He kisses you again. ‘Know that I can’t wait until I’m able to tell you that my whole heart is yours.’

Thank you so much for reading. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Or tell me how the Halsin brainrot is affecting you while playing BG3. I have just about no braincells left by now. Only Daddy Bear remains. 

[dksfml]

what would you do if I went to touch you now? - riki

pairing: younger!nishimura riki x older!reader genre: office romance, flirty niki, workplace tension, niki teaches you japanese. summary: despite your best efforts to maintain professionalism, the undeniable tension between you and riki makes it impossible to resist the connection growing between you. it doesn't help that he calls you "noona" at work. warnings: suggestive, kissing, implied smut word count: 2.7k

your professional relationship with riki had been straightforward when he first started. quiet and shy, he took careful notes during meetings, absorbing the work culture like a sponge. as his mentor, you were tasked with guiding him through the ropes, ensuring he understood the nuances of the company.

“make sure he knows what he’s doing,” your boss had instructed, handing you the responsibility like a personal mission. and you took it seriously. riki was younger by a few years, in need of your guidance. at first, he seemed timid, his questions asked in soft tones, his posture always slightly defensive, as if afraid of stepping out of line. you naturally fell into a nurturing role, steering him whenever he seemed unsure, offering advice when necessary. but as time passed, riki's confidence grew, along with a noticeable shift in your dynamic.

it started subtly—small changes in his attitude. his work improved dramatically, and soon he was strutting around with a smirk, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. his newfound cockiness was relentless, even though you reminded him to stay focused.

“riki,” you sighed, standing by his desk, flipping through his presentation slides. “i told you to cross-reference these with last quarter’s data. this is incomplete.”

he leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin. “i was going to fix it, but i thought i’d leave some for you to correct, noona. keeps me humble.”

you narrowed your eyes, unamused. “this isn’t a game. you can’t slack off just because you’re comfortable. these clients are important, and if we don’t get this right, it’s on both of us.”

his grin faltered, but just as quickly, he masked it with a wink. “got it. i’ll fix it. but only if you promise to let me take you out for dinner when we nail this project.”

you shook your head, suppressing a smile. “this is serious. you missed an email i asked you to forward last week. and calling me ‘noona’ here at work? we need to keep this professional.”

riki straightened, the playful glint in his eyes dimming. “right,” he said, his voice softer. “i’ll keep it professional. but you can’t blame me for trying.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but deep down, you felt a rush of excitement at his boldness. “i want those revisions by the end of the day, riki. and no more flirting until this is done.”

“yes, ma’am,” he replied, a mock salute on his part, and for the first time in weeks, there was no teasing in his tone.

now, the two of you were working on a critical project, preparing a proposal for a japanese client your company was eager to sign. it wasn’t just a regular pitch; this deal was huge—a make-or-break moment that could lead to long-term collaboration. you had thrown yourself into the task, familiarizing yourself with every detail of the project. but there was one problem: the language barrier. the client preferred to communicate in japanese, and while you had learned some phrases, you were nowhere near fluent.

that’s when it struck you—riki was fluent in japanese. you recalled him casually mentioning it one afternoon, and now that you needed the skill, you struck a deal with him: he’d tutor you in japanese after work, and in return, you’d ensure his involvement in the project didn’t go unnoticed by the higher-ups. a fair exchange, strictly professional, you told yourself.

later that night, during one of your lessons, the atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension. riki sat across from you, leaning forward as you practiced reading a passage. you stumbled over a phrase, and his sharp gaze caught your mistake.

“no,” he corrected, his voice low and firm, sending shivers down your spine. “it’s nihon, not nee-hon. you’re stressing the first syllable too much.”

his tone was both authoritative and teasing, igniting a spark of mischief that made your heart race. “let’s go over that phrase again,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding. you nodded, struggling to focus, but the heat radiating from his body made it impossible to think clearly.

“try it one more time, noona,” he urged, leaning in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. the closeness sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you, and you instinctively shifted, seeking a little more space.

“um, okay,” you stammered, trying to keep your composure, but the way he looked at you—a mix of amusement and something deeper—made your cheeks flush. “i’m trying.”

riki leaned in even closer, his shoulder pressing against yours. “you’re not trying hard enough,” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. “what’s the matter? feeling a little shy?”

“shy? no,” you protested, your voice barely above a whisper. “i just—”

“just what?” he interrupted, his gaze piercing into yours, his confidence unwavering. “can’t handle a little pressure?”

your heart raced at the challenge in his voice. “at work, i’m your superior, riki. you need to respect that.”

“respect?” he echoed, leaning back just enough to gauge your reaction. “or maybe you need to realize that i’m not the junior anymore. you’re the one who seems to struggle with that.” his eyes danced with mischief, and you felt a thrill race through you.

“riki,” you warned, but your voice faltered, unable to hide the quiver of excitement that danced beneath your words.

“tell me you’re not interested,” he challenged, leaning closer, their faces mere inches apart. the air thickened with tension, and you could feel his warmth enveloping you. “because i know you feel it too.”

before you could respond, the sudden power cut plunged the office into darkness, leaving only the dim emergency lights flickering above. your heart pounded, and the adrenaline heightened every sensation.

“well, i guess that’s the end of tonight’s lesson,” you attempted to joke, but your voice trembled, revealing your unease.

riki’s eyes glinted in the low light, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “no, we’re not done.” he leaned closer again, his hand brushing against yours, sending a wave of heat up your arm.

you pulled back slightly, heart racing. “riki, this isn’t—”

“isn’t what?” he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a thrill down your spine. “we both know there’s something between us.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but the urgency in his gaze silenced you. your breath hitched at the finality in his tone. the professional barrier you had carefully constructed was crumbling.

“we should go,” you muttered, fumbling to gather your things. but riki reached out, his hand brushing against yours, halting your movements.

“we could go to your place,” he suggested, his voice dangerously low. “finish the lesson there.”

the implications hung heavily between you. you met his gaze, searching for any trace of the playful riki you’d trained, the one who’d always danced around the line but never crossed it. but there was nothing playful in his expression now—only a raw intensity that made your skin prickle.

you nodded, unable to trust your voice, and within moments, you were heading out of the office together. the ride to your apartment was silent, the weight of what was about to happen sitting thick between you.

the door to your apartment clicked shut behind you, and the familiar surroundings only heightened the surreal nature of what was happening. you barely had time to turn on a light before riki was in front of you, his presence magnetic. the silence between you was thick with everything left unsaid, but his gaze—intense, burning—spoke volumes.

for a moment, neither of you moved, both caught in the tension that had been building for weeks. his eyes swept over your face, lingering on your lips as if contemplating his next move. you stood your ground, refusing to back away even as your pulse raced in anticipation.

“you’re still thinking about work, aren’t you?” his voice was low, teasing. he stepped closer, just close enough that the warmth of his body radiated through the space between you. “always so professional, noona.”

you swallowed, feeling the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “someone has to keep things in check,” you replied, though your voice faltered just slightly, betraying the tug of desire that made your skin prickle with anticipation.

he chuckled, soft and deep. “maybe it’s time you stopped thinking for once.”

before you could react, his hand slid up your arm, fingers curling gently around the nape of your neck as he pulled you toward him. his lips met yours in a kiss that was far from the playful teasing you were used to. it was hungry, intense, like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had. the taste of him was intoxicating, and before you realized it, you were kissing him back with just as much need.

your back hit the wall softly as his body pressed into yours, every inch of him enveloping you, filling the space around you. his hands trailed down your sides, fingers ghosting over the fabric of your blouse before dipping under the hem, finding bare skin.

“riki,” you whispered, breaking the kiss for a breath, but your voice was breathless, needy. his name left your lips like a confession.

his lips barely left yours as he responded, his voice a raspy whisper. “you keep acting like you’re in control, noona,” he murmured against your skin, his hands now slipping around your waist, pulling you even closer. “but i don’t think you are anymore.”

the challenge in his voice made something inside you snap. you wanted to respond, to assert yourself as you always had, but the heat between you was overwhelming, and before you could muster a reply, his lips were on your neck, pressing soft, hot kisses along your skin that left you trembling.

“i’m not the kid you used to boss around,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your ear. “you can’t keep treating me like i don’t know what i’m doing.”

his hands slid lower, and you gasped as his touch became more insistent, his fingers deftly working to unbutton your blouse. his lips returned to yours, and this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, as if he wanted to savor every second. there was nothing hurried about the way his hands roamed your body, exploring with a confidence that made your head spin.

you tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, your fingertips brushing over the smooth lines of his chest. he was handsome, undeniably so, but up close like this—underneath the layers of work clothes and the carefully constructed professionalism—he was breathtaking. your hands trailed over his skin, feeling the tautness of his muscles, the way his breath hitched slightly as you touched him.

he grinned against your lips as you pressed your body into his, feeling the hardness of his form against you. “see?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “you can’t even resist me now, noona.”

you wanted to argue, to assert your authority as you always had, but the way he looked at you—like he knew exactly how to unravel you—left you powerless.

his hands made quick work of the rest of your clothes, every movement deliberate, controlled. he was no longer the shy, uncertain junior you had once guided. here, in the dim light of your apartment, riki was commanding, confident, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, laying you down with a gentleness that contrasted with the heat of the moment. and then he was over you, his hands exploring, his lips trailing over your skin in ways that made your breath hitch. you responded in kind, your fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

when his mouth found yours again, it was softer this time, but no less intense. his touch was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of your body, every gasp and shiver he elicited. you couldn’t help the sounds that escaped you, soft whimpers that only seemed to spur him on.

“don’t think just because i’m calling you ‘noona’ that i’ll let you keep this up,” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “you’re not the only one who can take charge.”

the air between you was charged with desire, thick with the tension that had been simmering for so long. every touch, every breath shared between you was electric, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. you had never imagined this—being here, with him, in this way—but now that you were, there was no going back.

and when he finally claimed you, when the last barriers between you fell away, it was like everything else disappeared. there was no work, no professionalism, no rules—just you and him, bodies moving together in perfect sync, lost in the heat of the moment.

the world outside faded into oblivion, and all that remained was the sound of your mingled breaths, the feeling of his skin against yours, the way he made you feel as though you were the only two people who mattered.

and in that moment, nothing else did.

“i still do want to take you on a dinner date though," riki said, breaking the silence with a light-hearted lilt that hung in the air like a sweet melody.

you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his, as if seeking confirmation that this wasn’t just a fleeting fantasy. “really?” the question slipped out before you could hold it back, a mix of surprise and delight dancing in your voice.

“yeah, really,” he replied, his smile growing wider. “just you and me. somewhere nice. maybe italian? i hear they have the best pasta in town.”

his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, grounding you in the moment. you could feel your heart quicken, the anticipation stirring something deep within you. “that sounds perfect. when do you want to go?”

“how about friday?” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “i’ll even let you choose the place.”

a laugh escaped your lips, the sound light and airy. “i hope you’re ready for my pick then. i might take you to the best italian place in town, and you’ll be regretting it the next day.”

riki chuckled, the warmth of his laughter making your heart flutter. “i’ll take that risk. besides, i have a feeling it’ll be worth it.”

in that moment, as the soft glow of the streetlights seeped through the window, you felt the weight of the week lift, replaced by the promise of something beautiful on the horizon. but just as the excitement began to settle in, you were pulled back to reality by the sound of your phone vibrating against the table, a harsh reminder of the world outside this blissful bubble.

you glanced at the screen, and the moment slipped slightly, the glow of notifications flickering like an unwelcome reminder. it was a message from a friend, checking in about the weekend plans.

“sorry, i should probably—” you started, but riki gently took your hand, grounding you again.

“hey,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “you can always reply later. right now, let’s focus on us.”

you looked back at him, the connection reigniting. the moment stretched out like an unbroken thread between you, the world beyond the walls of this room fading once more into insignificance. you nodded, your heart soaring as you settled back into the warmth of his gaze, the future bright and inviting.

“so, friday it is?” you confirmed, your voice steady and full of excitement.

“definitely,” riki replied, a grin breaking across his face, as if he had just won a victory.

and just like that, the evening unfolded around you, a delicate balance of playful teasing and soft confessions, a new chapter beginning to write itself in the quiet spaces between your laughter.

[aventurineswife]

Meow :D

what if the reader found a cat that acts like their lover? Like they have the same kind of attitude! Reader takes the cat home to take care of it with their lover! Imagine you just see you’re lover and cat staring each other down for you’re attention lol

you can do this with any honkai star rail (I’m bad with names) characters! (I prefer male but you can add female if you want) and you can do as many as you want! I just like telling my ideas :)

Two of a Kind

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Blade x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Romance, Humor, Fluff, Jealousy, Rivalry, Comfort, Lighthearted, Domestic.

Warnings: Mild Jealousy (between the characters and the cat), Slightly suggestive interactions (implied, but nothing explicit), Fluff overload, OOC 😔💔.

The moment you found the small, snow-white cat in the alleyway near the Cloud Knights’ barracks, you knew something was strange. It lounged on a pile of silk scraps like a dignified ruler, eyes half-lidded in serene boredom. When you crouched down to offer a hand, it yawned leisurely before rubbing its head against your palm.

"Lazy little thing, aren’t you?" You chuckled, scooping it up. It was oddly… familiar. The way it melted into your touch, stretching lazily, as if it had all the time in the world.

Bringing it home was inevitable.

Jing Yuan was reclining in his study when you arrived, eyes flickering open as you placed the cat in your lap. He raised a brow, immediately sitting up.

“…You brought home another one?” His voice held a mix of amusement and suspicion.

"This one’s different," you grinned. "Look at it."

The cat blinked at Jing Yuan, slow and deliberate.

Jing Yuan blinked back.

Then, as if recognizing a rival, the cat turned its head with a haughty sigh and curled up in your lap, looking every bit like a miniature version of your lover when he feigned sleep to avoid meetings.

Your laughter made Jing Yuan frown. "Don’t tell me… it acts like me?"

"It really does! Look at the way it lounges!"

Jing Yuan rubbed his temple. "I’m being replaced by a cat."

For the next few days, the battle for your attention escalated. Whenever you pet the cat, Jing Yuan would pull you onto the couch beside him, draping an arm over your shoulder. If you scratched behind the cat’s ears, Jing Yuan would hum pointedly until you did the same for him. You even caught them staring each other down one evening—one with feline eyes, the other with his usual patient amusement, both vying for your affection.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. "You do realize you’re jealous of a cat, right?"

Jing Yuan huffed, crossing his arms. "I’m not jealous. I’m simply… asserting my rightful place."

The cat, as if mocking him, promptly stretched across your lap.

Jing Yuan sighed in defeat, then reached over, stroking the cat’s head with surprising gentleness. "Hmph. I suppose we can share."

And so, the rivalry ended in an unspoken truce—one where you were adored by both the lazy general and his equally lazy feline counterpart.

You weren’t sure what it was about the midnight-furred cat that made you stop in the middle of the street. Maybe it was the sharp red eyes, eerily intense for a feline. Or maybe it was the way it sat in the shadows, unmoving, its aura both captivating and unsettling.

Regardless, you brought it home.

Blade was polishing his sword when you arrived, and his first reaction upon seeing the cat was a deadpan stare.

“…You’re joking."

The cat, sitting by your feet, glared at him with the same unnerving stillness.

You tilted your head. "What?"

Blade sighed, setting his sword aside. "It looks like me."

You blinked. Then you looked at the cat again—black fur, red eyes, an almost unnatural stillness to the way it held itself. Then, you burst out laughing.

"Oh no," you wheezed. "You’re right."

Blade scowled, rubbing his temple as the cat leapt onto your lap, curling into a tight ball like it had no interest in anything else.

"You brought home a brooding, quiet stray," Blade muttered, arms crossed. "Sound familiar?"

You grinned. "I have a type."

For days, the cat shadowed you, always quiet, always intense. Blade would sit in the corner, watching as you absentmindedly pet the feline while reading. At some point, you noticed the two of them mirroring each other—both staring at you, both exuding the same quiet, brooding energy.

It was unnerving.

"Are you two competing or something?" you finally asked.

Blade scoffed. "Tch. I don’t need to compete with a cat."

The cat, in perfect synchronization, flicked its tail as if scoffing right back.

You buried your face in your hands. "I can’t believe this."

Still, one night, you woke up to find Blade sitting on the floor beside the couch, absently petting the cat with an almost thoughtful expression.

"...You like it," you whispered.

Blade's hand paused, his expression unreadable. "It’s quiet. Doesn’t ask for anything."

You smiled. "Like you?"

Blade clicked his tongue, but he didn’t deny it.

And so, the brooding warrior and his feline doppelgänger coexisted in an eerie, wordless understanding—both bound to you, both unwilling to admit that, maybe, they had found comfort in something they never expected.

The cat you found had fur as soft as clouds and an uncanny, almost celestial presence. With golden eyes, and an air of quiet authority, it reminded you of someone.

Taking it home, however, proved to be the real challenge.

Sunday was seated in his grand study, calmly flipping through a book when you entered with the cat in your arms. The moment his eyes met the feline’s, an odd silence settled over the room.

The cat blinked.

Sunday blinked.

You swore you could feel the tension.

Finally, Sunday exhaled, closing his book. "...My dear, why does this creature look like it stepped out of my reflection?"

You grinned. "I was thinking the same thing."

Sunday reached out, gently brushing his fingers over the cat’s fur. The cat, rather than lean into the touch, simply tilted its head with a regal, knowing gaze.

Then, as if dismissing him, it turned its attention back to you, purring contentedly as it nestled in your arms.

Sunday raised an elegant brow. "I see. A competitor has appeared."

You chuckled. "You’re not actually jealous, are you?"

Sunday didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in, resting his chin on your shoulder. "You wouldn’t abandon me for a mere feline, would you?" His voice was smooth, teasing, but there was a quiet possessiveness beneath it.

You rolled your eyes. "It’s just a cat, Sunday."

"Yet it looks at me as if I am the intruder here," he mused, golden eyes glinting. "Fascinating."

For the next few days, you often caught Sunday and the cat watching each other in eerie silence, as if locked in an unspoken battle for dominance. Whenever Sunday pulled you onto his lap, the cat would jump onto your shoulder. Whenever the cat nestled against your chest, Sunday would wrap an arm around your waist, subtly claiming you back.

It was absurd.

"Sunday," you sighed. "You’re not actually fighting a cat for my attention."

He simply smiled, pressing a kiss to your hand. "My dear, I always win."

The cat, unimpressed, flicked its tail.

And so, the celestial rivalry continued—an eternal battle between a regal dream-weaver and his equally dignified feline reflection.

[heart-writesss]

some would say connie’s type in the past has been girls that fall under the category “bitchy”. girls with stank attitudes that he’d have to constantly stop from fighting in public. it’s just what he’s also attracted until one day he met you.

it was a pretty day and you were at the quiet little boutique you worked at. you had worked a morning shift and it was now 3 in the afternoon so you were heading out. “bye girls! are you sure you don’t need me to stay because i’d be happy to?” you ask the younger employees taking over for the night shift. they reassure you that they’ve got it covered and you grab your tote bag and head out. you live in a loft apartment not too far from your job so you walk on days like today. you begin walking down the sidewalk when your stomach starts to grumble lowly making you remember that you’d only eaten a bagel for breakfast and sipped on water. “ugh i don’t feel like cooking.” you mumbled to yourself so you decided to stop at a local pizzeria for a quick slice.

connie and eren were in connie’s black benz truck heading to one of their favorite places, benny’s pizzeria. “what’s going on with you and ole girl con? haven’t seen her since she was getting carried out of the club a few months ago.” eren questioned connie. connie huffed dramatically thinking back to that night. the girl he was referring to was one of his short term flings with big time anger problems. it was never a peaceful moment with her and after her major club blowout including her getting detained connie had wiped his hands clean of her. he just couldn’t handle the constant bickering and fighting and embarrassment that came with it. “nah man that’s been done for. i’m off women for while.” connie says as he parks the car.

you finally make it to benny’s and walk right in and breathe in the saucy aroma in the air. it was quite empty inside. just you and a young couple sitting together. seeing the couple together giggling makes you remember your lack of romance in your life today. lately it’s been just work and home with an occasional hangout with your friends. you’re content with life currently but sometimes it would be nice to have someone to hold at night and to go on dates with. you’re snapped out of your daydreaming state when you hear the doorbell ring and not long after a body trips into yours.

“oh my god i’m sorry i wasn’t paying attention.” you exclaimed as you turned around to see the man who was standing behind you. as you turned around you were met with a tall man covered in patchwork tattoos and a buzzcut. your insides were freaking out just from looking at him. maybe it was the tattoos or the hair or the way he was looking at you or that deep voice or even all the above but his aura was captivating.

“no i’m sorry. didn’t mean to almost knock you down.” he states while taking in your appearance. you were around 5’7 with big curly hair all over framing your face perfectly, big black frames over your eyes, a white tee with a pair of blue jeans on, and a pair of pink sambas on your feet. you were gorgeous. before connie could find any other words you gave him a sweet smile and headed to the counter to order. “you can stop staring now.” eren jokes at the table they sat at. ever since your interaction connie hadn’t taken his eyes off you for more than 15 minutes at a time. he couldn’t let you leave without saying something else to you. he didn’t know what but he had to say something. the soft look in your eyes made him feel all jumbled around inside. but he liked it.

you ordered your food to-go and waited till your number was called. super cute buzzcut man was inside and you could feel his eyes on you from time to time but you just ignored it. once your number was called you grabbed your bag and dropped a $10 dollar bill in the tip jar and headed out the door. on the inside you were wishing for mysterious buzzcut guy to say something to you or maybe even you gain the courage to say something to him but it didn’t seem like your day.

as you head down the street towards your apartment you hear yelling and footsteps trailing behind you. curiosity won the best of you and you turned around only to find buzzcut guy seemingly trying to flag you down. in seconds he’s standing in front of you smiling. “we didn’t properly introduce ourselves a moment ago. i’m connie.” he says and reaches his hand out to shake yours. “and i’m y/n.” you couldn’t stop the big smile from spreading across your face. “well y/n i wanted to ask if i could have your number and-“ before he could even finish you had said “yes!” leaving connie surprised he was used to the chase of it all with his past flings. you exchanged numbers and were prepared to go yalls separate ways. you say to connie before heading home finally, “it was nice meeting you connie. hopefully we’ll get to talk again soon.” you turn your back to connie no longer having to contain your giddiness.

as connie returns to the restaurant he thinks about you and just how kind you were. it was something new he’d never been on the receiving end of. an image of your smile keeps flashing in his head. when he sits back down eren goes “well are you actually gonna call her?” looking at his friend curiously.

“yeah i am. she seems different than the others y’know. she seems sweet.”

part 2