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textmel8r · 2 months

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[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , smuttish , pure unadulterated fluff

୨୧˚ an; thank you all for the patience 😭😭 so sorry i’ve been busy getting back into uni shit but omg!!! slowburn is peaking!!! also the tag list is officially closed because i have reached the max # of tags!!!

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Nanami’s morning routine doesn’t deviate from the norm. An alarm clock was built into his genetic code, and he rouses at half past six in the morning. Unfurling his long limbs from the confines of the couch—the suede thing was big, but Nanami was bigger. Joints popped under sheets of muscle and flesh when he gave a hearty stretch, and with that, he was ready to start his Sunday.

Fueled purely on motor memory, he filters through each step of the habitual customs he’s grown to associate with mornings. You’re still sleeping soundly in his bed, and the risk of waking you condemns Nanami to his downstairs bathroom rather than the personal en suite tailing off his bedroom. It doesn’t pose much of an inconvenience; Nanami was nothing if not prepared. The slender closet in his downstairs bathroom housed spare toiletries—handkerchiefs, tooth brushes, soaps and oils.

He brushes his teeth first, watching his reflection with tired eyes. Minty foam froths at the corners of his lips. Nanami collects the mess with his tongue before spitting into the porcelain bowl of the sink. He’s thorough, scrubbing every corner of his mouth, followed by a pass through with charcoal infused floss. Next, the man is dabbing a button of facial cleanser onto a small square of towel, wetting it under the faucet. Scouring his cheeks, then forehead, then nose. His hair is mussed from tossing in his sleep, and if not for the guest upstairs, Nanami would probably leave it as is. But you’re his guest, and for some reason that means something to him, so he slicks back the blonde frizz with wet hands.

Another staple of Nanami’s morning routine: a good cup of coffee. The machine was expensive—Nanami tends to splurge when it comes to matters that mean most to him. He doesn’t mind spending a little extra on his suit wear, his beloved watches, and certainly not his coffee. Crafted from titanium and stainless steel, it sat heavily on the black marble countertop and whirred quietly as it compressed beans into the filter.

Ingredients line the island at the center of his extravagant kitchen. Weekends were the only days in which Nanami had enough time to cook breakfast for himself, rather than grabbing a bagel or danish from the convenience store on his way to the office. It was a shame, really, because he enjoyed the gratification of cooking his own meals. And not to toot his own horn, but he was rather proud of his skills.

He never cooks for two, though.

Nanami peruses the ingredient assembly line, looking from the organic eggs, to the all purpose flour, to the carton of mixed berries. It would be rude of him not to consider your palate. Did you prefer a savory breakfast? Or perhaps you’d rather have something on the sweeter side like pancakes? He nibbled his lower lip in thought.

A divine aroma saturates the entirety of downstairs. Nanami focuses on folding a second omellette, tucking the concoction of whipped egg, chopped bell peppers, caramelized onions, diced tomatoes, and grated sharp cheddar on itself with the delicacy of a surgeon. He’s knee deep in concentration, back turned towards his staircase so your presence goes entirely unnoticed.

Hands clap together somewhere over his shoulder. He jerks with a startled gasp, the fork in his hand clattering to vinyl tiles. Nanami presses a palm to his racing chest, twisting to find your hands just inches away from his ear. What a little shit, you are. He doesn’t waste effort trying to stifle his grimace. “Was that necessary?”

You’re crouched down, retrieving the silverware off the floor. “Now we’re even.”

“Even?”

“Yeah,” you hand him the fork, to which he blinks at the useless thing. It’s been dirtied by the floor, so Nanami instructs you to toss it in the sink and grab another from the utensil drawer at the end of his pointed finger. As you play fetch, you explain. “Do you know how scared shitless I was waking up in a strange bedroom? In strange clothes?” He’s watching you toy aimlessly with the abundance of extra material bunched up around the trussed waistband of your—his—sweatpants. Nanami’s clothes cloak you more than enough; cotton t-shirt hanging just below mid-thigh, and those damned oversized sweats rolled up in stupidly big cuffs at the ankles stopping over your socked feet. You must’ve adjusted them accordingly when you stepped out of bed. Something akin to apprehension pulled at your face. “We didn’t…”

Blonde brows scrunch as he attempts to decipher your blathering. When you beckon a hand between your chest and his, Nanami abruptly chokes on his saliva. “Are you out of your mind?” He’s quick to sputter, spinning back to face the sizzling pans and contain the tickle in his throat. A white bowl and whisk are gathered into strong arms—homemade blueberry pancake batter sloshes against the wiry bristles of Nanami’s whisk. He pours three more precise circles of batter onto the second frying pan, and the sweet paste fizzles against nonstick cookware. “You were intoxicated, Y/n. Couldn’t even remember your own address.” He paused. “A change of clothes seemed ideal in the moment. Something cozier.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Footsteps pad closer, and you appear beside him, resting your back against the counter. Your head lolls, cheek falling against your shoulder. He can feel your eyes gouging into the side of his face while he flips the pancake triplets. “You changed me?”

There’s a foreign tonality bleeding into your words, something almost playful, and he’s vexed. Are you teasing him? A trimmed thumb nail burrows into the silicone grip of a spatula. Or is that genuine curiosity? “I did,” Nanami gives you honesty, licking his lip as he does so. On it, he tastes a vague note of spearmint. “You needed some help.”

“God,” you touch a hand to your forehead and laugh, “that does sound like me.” There is no perturbation or embarrassment there, only relief, and he thanks God for your uncanny ability to bypass awkwardness in situations such as these. Had the roles been reversed and it was Nanami receiving word that a coworker of the opposite sex had dressed him in a period of inebriation, well, he’d probably send in a letter of resignation to the company the next day. “Sorry for being so difficult for you.”

He wags his head, dismissing the remorse. “Please, your apologies are far from necessary.”

“Oh I think they’re completely neces—”

“Aht.” A spatula stabs through the air stopping a few inches shy of your nose. There’s a sharpness that eclipses sepia eyes behind the crystalline shield of Nanami’s wire-framed glasses; a barbed glance that telepathically urges you to drop the argument before it begins. With that same spatula, he dives below fluffy circles of speckled cake and transports them from pan to plates, divvying up the pancakes into two even portions. “You took the medication I left for you, yes? They were beside the glass of water on the side table.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m feelin’ better already.”

“Good,” he nods with a subtle, tight-lipped grin. “That’s good. Though you should probably get some food down. Fill your stomach with something other than tylenol.” Nanami stops his ministrations, satisfied with the presentation of both plates of breakfast, and pitches you a simple question. “Coffee?”

You practically moan, “coffee sounds really fucking amazing right now.”

Coffee it is then. Nanami proposes that you go settle yourself in a seat, and that he’d handle the rest. Forfeiting another argument, you buckle and slip into a high stool at the breakfast bar that is associated along the island in the midst of the kitchen. Two twin mugs are poached from the highest shelf, crafted of gray ceramic with uneven, white polka dots. He owned a whole dining set donning those same frivolous dots; Nanami always had an absurd fascination with peculiar patterns, they were charming to the man. Perhaps his collection of ugly things were meaningful because of how violently they contrasted to his otherwise ordinary life. In both mugs, scalding coffee brimmed and emanated laces of smoke slithering up to the ceiling. Nanami didn’t bother asking you how you took your coffee—he just knew. Knew from stealing glances at you over the past year, watching you concoct a disastrous potion of lukewarm coffee poured from the communal pot that you so desperately despised, skim milk from the carton in the office floor’s minifridge, and a concerning amount of sugar packets that made him feel inclined to alert your doctor. Nanami does his best to match the ratio of coffee to milk to sugar, gives it a stir, and hopes it’s up to your eccentric taste buds.

He sets your plate and mug down, sliding it across the counter’s surface to sit before you. Nanami chooses to stand where he is, leaning against the opposite end of the island. His foot, clad in a thick, black sock, taps quietly against the floor. “I wasn’t aware of your preferences so—”

“So you made…” You go quiet, prodding at the unusual combination of food on your plate: a vegetable-ridden omelette on one side and a few blueberry-encrusted flapjacks glazed in a modest squirt of maple syrup on the other. You hate it, he thinks shortly, but then a smile splits on your lips and Nanami fears he may have jumped the gun. “Eggs and pancakes?”

“You do like eggs and pancakes, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you respond, enthused. “It’s perfect.”

Nanami cringes. “I’d like it if you didn’t call me that outside of the workplace.”

“What? Sir?”

He hums. “Formalities remind me of work; I don’t like to think about work when I’m eating my breakfast.” He punctuates the request with a sip from his mug. Black, unsweetened coffee scathes his tongue with powerful calidity, but he’s well acquainted with its heat by now, and doesn’t wince.

“I’ll just stick to Nanami, then.”

“Actually, I—” Was it even worth mentioning? That he’d handed you the rights to use his first name last night? The tiny, bothersome devil on Nanami’s shoulder was whispering yes. “Kento will do.”

True, unadulterated glee beamed from your person, wafting a certain warmth across the counter to smack him in the face. “Holy shit, yeah that’s right! I remember now!” Using your fork as an arrow to point at the man, “last night, you told me that. You said I can call you Kennnn-Tooooo—”

“Okay, alright.” He’s jaded by your antics, swatting his hand in the air lazily. It’s too early in the morning to get serenaded by his own name. “Say it normally, or don’t say it at all.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so crazy to think that we’re on a first name basis now, y’know?” You ask before shoveling a forkful of pancake into your mouth, sighing blissfully at the taste. Gratefulness oozed into your gestures, materializing in the way you simpered up at him following each and every bite. Smiles so broad that Nanami wondered if they were out of politeness or if you really just enjoyed his cooking that much.

He can cheers to your observation. “If you would’ve told me five months ago that you’d be sitting across from me in my home—sharing breakfast with me, no less—I would have…” Laughed in your face? Had a conniption? A combination of the two? Nanami trails off into thought, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d have done.”

So hellbent on sticking to his judgment, Nanami rarely changed his mind about people post first impressions. First impressions were something he valued, both in himself and in others. A snap perception is made based upon the first bits of information he collects from a person, and it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say that your initial communication was less than stellar. Since then, Nanami’s one-track mind had pinned associations onto you like a bulletin board, assigning your name with attributes like sleazy and trashy and (God, he felt the worst about this one) slutty. This entire time, it was Nanami’s stubbornness and penchant to be right that shielded him from the realization that you were none of those cancerous aspersions.

You are you.

You are a diligent worker. You are never on time. Your favorite color is (f/c). You are easy to talk to, easy to approach. You like pistachio cheesecake and criminally sweet coffee. You are insecure about your presentation skills, though Nanami can’t understand why. You are determined. You are rarely shy about asking for something you need, a quality he appreciates in someone. You make him laugh. You can’t hold your liquor. With the way you’re drooling over your plate like a hungry puppy, it’s apparent that you like his cooking. And he likes you.

He… what?

“Yeah, well,” you tilt your head, and the melodic chuckle that follows is enough to yank Nanami from his dazedness. Lifting your mug, you push it towards him in a sort of gesture. “Good thing the past doesn’t matter, huh? We were both lame in the past, but look at us now.” You retract the mug to your lips, taking a swig. “Future us is awesome. Are awesome? Is?”

You mumble to yourself, befuddled by grammar. Meanwhile, Nanami brews in thought. Your undying fearlessness of what’s to come in life always rendered him bewildered.

“I’m jealous,” he admits, idly tracing the rim of his cup with his thumb.

You perk up. “Of?”

“Your ability to embrace the future. It’s brave.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you sweatdrop, itching your cheek. “I wouldn’t call it bravery. Maybe security? I’m—yeah, I’m secure with the route I’ve taken in life.”

“You’re secure with white collar work?”

“I can’t see myself in any other profession,” you smile, flicking him a brow. “What about you?”

Honesty permitted, Nanami would describe his job as the bane of his misery. There used to be a point in his life in which he was sure that this was his ultimate goal: a senior executive position with an esteemed, high-profile company. Younger Nanami was content to endure years of early mornings and late nights with busy schedules jammed in between because it’d all be worth it when he finally tastes that sweet senior title. Except, now he’s tasted it. He’s licked it dry, and despite that, that feeling of fulfillment Nanami had been vying for his whole career remains frustratingly dormant. The notion that this will be his routine until retirement kills him.

He chews thoughtfully on a sliver of pancake before responding. “We touched on this a little over text.”

“You want to travel.”

You remembered. He hums. “I do.”

“And you want a family.”

“I do,” Nanami sighs longingly.

You don’t make an effort to stifle a chuckle at his supposed foolishness. Shaking your head and cutting your eggs with the blunt side of a fork; “You talk about these things as if it’s all some sort of cushiony pipe dream. It’s really fucking hilarious all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Perplexed, Nanami pries for an expansion.

And with all the seriousness in the world, you begin to count on your digits. “You are probably the most charming, most intelligent, most wealthy—”

“Y/n,” Nanami yawps at your conviction. When you jest, you do it in such an obvious way. He’s come to familiarize himself with the clever quirk of your mouth’s corner, or that playfully irritating glint in your smile-squinted eyes. But now, Nanami can’t find any evidence of joking in your stoney expression. You’re sincere when you say these things about him. It makes his heart pound so viciously that it vibrates his ear drums.

“Most hard-working man I’ve ever met.” Unfazed by his apparent flusteredness, you finish with a nonchalant shrug. “Just funny, is all, that you of all people are stressing over these things when you have the ingredients to make your ambitions a reality.”

“Your compliments are… thanked…” The blonde ducks his head in an awkward, halfhearted bow, “but I can’t ever hope to truly begin my life when I don’t have the time granted to do so.” Nanami touches an index and middle finger to his temple, rubbing in soothing circles. It doesn’t do much to quell the oncoming migraine that this nightmarish topic never fails to cast upon him. “I’ve tried. Believe me when I say that I have worked my ass off trying to balance my job alongside nurturing a relationship. But I’ve come to realize how unfair of me that is—to ask a woman to bear with my neglect because I got held up at the office for the fifth night in a row. A relationship isn’t much of a relationship at all if both people still feel lonely.”

Unbeknownst to him, his tone had slipped away for a moment. He became bitter, recalling the lineup of failures that made up his dating history. Bitter and lonely. It’s been almost two years now that Nanami has abandoned the dating scene, if not for his sake than for the sake of his next girlfriend. Though, he can’t help but have moments of tenderness in which he thinks that maybe all of his occupational achievements would have been more gratifying if he had someone to share them with.

He clears his throat, lowering his voice back down when he apologizes for getting emotional.

“Don’t say sorry.” You offer a reassuring grin. “I’m sorry for assuming shit about your life. That was uncool of me.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Nanami parrots, returning your grin with a sheepish one of his own, and tilts his head toward his shoulder. “I didn’t exactly mind the compliments.”

“Conceited bastard.”

He hides his simper well behind his mug. “I’d still like to know what makes you happy, if that offer is still on the table.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just would like to.” Nanami licks his lower lip, eyes grazing yours. “Do I need a more convoluted reason than that?”

Your face reads like a book. It tells him don’t be a smartass, so he yields to your unimpressed frown. “You’re not gonna like my answer. Working makes me happy.”

The revelation doesn’t shock him. “You are demonstrably proficient, Y/n. In my professional opinion, I have no doubts that you’ll be successful.” Nanami does his best to mirror your sincerity.

“More successful than you?” You tease.

“Oh forget me, I give it five years before you’re replacing Gakuganji,” he laughs gently before pressing a finger to his lips, mimicking secrecy. “Let’s keep that between us, though.”

“The day you take orders from me is the day I can die happy.”

I wouldn’t mind that day.

“But to be honest, I think it cuts deeper than the success aspects. Ah, It’s kinda hard to put it into words…” You take a moment to string together an explanation while Nanami waits patiently. “I’m sort of a mess in my personal life. I fuck a lot of things up, I make bad judgement calls, I can get a little lazy sometimes—I just do shit wrong. Or at least, that’s what I feel like.”

Nanami hangs on every word.

“So, like, to come to work everyday and be organized and–and put on this presentation of competency,” your tongue clicks sweetly, “I need that. I need people to see me that way—I think that’s why it affected me so much when you… when you saw me…”

“At the party?” He clarifies.

You purr in agreement. “Yeah. That. I felt like, I don't know, like I shattered my whole ‘persona’ and you saw me. You really saw me.”

He can’t look away from you. The way you’re visibly shrinking, collapsing in on yourself like a wounded animal. Constricting your own torso with your arms in a self-soothing hug. Are you ashamed?

When Nanami finally speaks, he keeps his voice calm. Soft and cottony. “Do you always have such degrading thoughts about yourself?”

“I wouldn’t call it degradation…”

“I would.” Brows furrow, and he leans further into the conversation with his elbows on the island’s surface. “You talk about yourself as if you’re two separate people.”

“Don’t you see it, too?” You ask him gravely, as though you’re hinging on Nanami’s opinion. Like his insubstantial assessment of you is the only thing that matters. “You won’t offend me, I swear.”

Unperturbed, he blinks. “Not at all.”

“Then you’re fucking blind,” you cluck. “Those glasses aren’t doing much for you.”

Nanami nips the inner seam of his cheek, unamused. Right now, he isn’t much in the mood for jokes. Not when he now understands the extent of the disdain that you have for yourself. It irks him that you can’t see how rare of a person you are.

“My eyesight has no relevance, stop deflecting with humor.” “I’m not deflecting!”

“Yes, you are. Now please, stop and let me talk for a moment,” Nanami shows you his palm, and you find your silence. “You are not two people, Y/n, you’re just one. Just you. Sure, you have your quirks and flaws—as does everyone else—but they are what makes you you. They make you nice to be around.”

“You think I’m nice to be around?”

“We meet nearly every weekend now, have you been under the impression that I hated your presence?”

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes. I assumed you were still hanging out with me because you felt like you owed me. Which you totally did, by the way.” You purse your lip together, stiff. “But, um, your debt has long been paid, especially with this delicious breakfast. So… y’know, if you don’t want to go out, you can just tell me.”

A breathy, humorous exhale huffs through Nanami’s nostrils. “I am a grown man. If I don’t want to do something, then I won’t do it. This,” he gestures between himself then you, “isn’t occurring out of pity or some strange form of charity. You’re here right now because I want you to be, okay?”

That little declaration pulls a coy smile from you, something Nanami introspectively overthinks. He tells himself that you’re blushing, just barely noticeable past your complexion. “Okay.” You whisper, the apples of your cheeks more pronounced than he’s ever seen them before.

Baring witness to a skittish Y/n was not on the docket for Nanami’s Sunday. He’s aware that this little discussion should stop. It was enroute to breaching something—something intimate and foreign and never to be acknowledged between you both. Unspoken chemistry that Nanami intended to let shrivel up and rot within his core because he doesn’t have the strength to snuff out the beacon of light you’ve shown in his life when he inevitably ruins yet another relationship.

But…

“I’ve had more fun in the past month than in my twenty-seven years of life. With you, I mean. So please don’t shun the side of you that exists outside of the office, because you have this spark that I haven’t seen in any of my associates in a long time. I’m… I would be upset if you let yourself turn into another copy-and-paste corporate zombie.”

There is an obvious shift in the kitchen air. It’s blossomed deep and heavy; Nanami feels like it’s become a struggle to keep himself from sinking into the floor. Your gaze is bolted to him, his to yours, in a quiet exchange of consciousness. Can you hear his thoughts? You look at him so intensely, he fears you might be able to hear how beautiful he thinks you look under the fluorescent light bulbs fixed into the ceiling.

You slip off your stool. Nanami watches your trek around the curve of the island. Onto his side.

It’s through feathery lashes that you look up at him.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The spine you have to ask such an audacious question. Visceral palpitations strike through the beating organ in his chest. His hand brushes the ledge of the countertop, then grips it for stability. “Yes.” So attractive, that he felt he could die right now.

“Even after I vomited on your shoes?”

“I thought you didn’t remember last night?” Nanami goads.

“It’s coming back to me.”

You feign cheekiness. “Yeah,” he swallows, taking a shaky breath for himself. “Still beautiful.”

Beautiful, even with remnants of day-old eyeliner smudges below those doe eyes. Messy in the most enticing way. An urge swells within Nanami, to cradle your precious face and swipe the makeup off your flesh with his thumb. However, you moved first.

Reaching upwards, you pluck the pair of glasses off his nose. He lets you. Folded, they sit on the island.

Nanami gives a subtle shake of his head, tonguing the sharp corner of his lip. “What are you doing?” It comes out hushed, like he’s telling a secret.

“I don’t know,” you reply impishly.

The following events can only be categorized as amorous. Ever so slowly, your hand touches. Pressing to his chest, feeling every valley and peak on its ascension to his collarbone. It peeks out from over top the collar of his raggedy, white tee shirt, and you feel him there. Offhandedly, he believes this may be the first time you’ve seen him outside of suitwear. Long, languid breaths keep him grounded, but Nanami can barely stand this torture. Though for you, he does. He lets you touch everything you want, biting his lip all the while.

“What are you doing?” It comes again, more breathy than the last.

You don’t answer, far too enraptured by the panes of his neck. He feels you drag a fingertip down the trail of a vein. Resolve unravels, he’s slipping.

“Kento.”

If he looked into a mirror at this moment, would he even recognize himself? Nanami knows he’s a better man than this. It should take more than the pillowy drawl of his name to snap the wavering thread of self-discipline within him.

Chest touches chest; he’s got you trapped against the kitchen island. The same island you both were sharing breakfast with five minutes ago. The same island, Nanami kisses you now.

Your face is sandwiched between two large hands. Nanami holds you to him, angling your neck back so he can grind his tongue deeper into your warm throat. There is no buildup, no preemptive apprehension that repels him from committing to bury himself in your mouth. He kisses you with no regrets, just desire and stifling yearning.

Moans vibrate the slobbery mess. Nanami feels a bouquet of fingers latch onto his hip and pull—he rewards you, sucking sensually against the tip of your tongue. It’s fucking hot. He’s hot. And hard. Nanami’s sweating. He’s grabbing. He’s rubbing. He’s—-

Beep!

The kiss stops synchronously with twin gasps. You gawk up at him, wide-eyed at the sudden auditory intrusion. He’s looking right back down at you, panting.

“It's the oven.”

“Oh.”

All the passion had seemingly drained, Nanami felt the altar in the atmosphere. With all the reluctance in the world, he pushes himself back to give you sizable space. Unsure of how this aftermath would play out. Awkwardly, he clears his throat, swabbing excess saliva from his chin with a palm. “I uhm—I was baking some bread.”

You nod, avoiding eye contact. “That’s cool.”

You look mortified, and that makes him feel mortified. “Y/n, I’m sorry for—”

“It’s fine.”

His heart sinks to his guts. “No, it’s not fine. Please, let me ap—”

“Kento,” you cut him off, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Like, at all, so stop apologizing. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

Nanami’s brows pinch together, and he gapes at that. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong either.” You don’t seem to believe him, what with the way you sway from left foot to right foot, hands twiddling restlessly. Cautious, he takes a step closer. “You look anxious. I’m by no means kicking you out, but I don’t want to keep you here if it makes you uncomfortable. Just say the word and I’ll call you a ride home.”

A sigh graces your kiss-swollen lips, and you bow graciously. “Please, that would be great, thanks.”

“Yeah,” Nanami says gently, moving to fish his phone out of the pocket of his flannel pajama bottoms. “Of course.”

“I’ll go change out of your clothes—”

“Keep them on, I insist.” He’s quick to halt you. “And leave yours upstairs, I’ll run them through the washing machine. We can exchange them tomorrow.”

“I—okay, thank you.” You look so apologetic, it wounds him. “Thank you for everything. For taking me home last night, for breakfast, for–for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But you’re very welcome.”

Your taxi shows up a few minutes later. It’s hard to watch you go, especially when you left him on dubious terms. Were you upset by his kiss? Nanami hopes to God that’s not the case. Or maybe you were appalled? Fearful, even?

Nanami needs to turn his brain off—this cancerous spiral of thinking would only send him into a dark pit of guilt, and he had a web meeting later in the evening. After washing the dishes leftover from the breakfast endeavor, he sits on the sofa with his head in his hands

You tasted like fucking maple syrup.

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fishsinsareacknowledged · 28 days

Text

Simon Ghost Riley who keeps you close whenever you're in a room. Also lots of acts of service.

Reading a book? He's there pulling, almost clawing you onto his lap. Tucking your head under his chin so he can read it with you. If not, at least you're pressed up against his chest, comfy with the little nest of his thighs caging you in with his hands.

Cooking? Expect this man to help chop everything up. He's tasked with murder of course he knows how to handle a knife lovie. Onions? Fuck no. You're on your own. Sorry love.

Exercising? If you think he's going to let any other gym goer help you whether man or woman you're dead wrong. He's always there to spot you, pushing you to do just one more so you're extra tired once you get home.

What for you may ask?

Massaging. Callused hands mixed with scented oils that are made just to relax you. Don't even think about anything except for him, he can tell. Just lay still and let him dig into your tense nerves, what's that love? It hurts, good. Its working. There we go, not so sore anymore are you?

He's showering with you too after a long day. Confidently walking into your small shower to barge in the already far too small bathroom. Stealing most of your water as you bat at him to get out. Yeah no, he's helping you wash your hair too now. Doesn't matter if the water runs cold and you have to get out.

He's following you, even drying you up. Don't you think he deserves a treat? At least a pet?

Simon Ghost Riley who at the end of the day is glad to have spent it with you. Wandering around each other instead of alienating his lover away from him. Simon who cuddles you in bed for fear that you may escape if he doesn't have his hands on you at every second. Trying to ease his own fears whenever he's nearby you, just pulling you closer to his chest so you have no way to escape but back to him.

—

Masterlist

#cod #call of duty #hcs #ghost simon riley #simon ghost #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty ghost #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader

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thewritingrowlet · 11 days

Text

The Twins and Their Queens pt. 1, ft. NMIXX Jiwoo

tags: blowjob, creampie

length: 11k+

author's note: this marks the start of another (mini) series, where we follow the lives of Shane and Shaun, Harvey's little twin brothers. For now, I think the series will have 3-4 parts just like The Outing Trip, but time will tell.

Jiwoo wakes up feeling excited today, and she has a very good reason for it: she has secretly made a promise to cook for you to celebrate the 2nd anniversary early, and today, precisely 7 days before the actual anniversary, is the day to do so.

She contains her excitement as she slowly and carefully gets off the bed. To be sure that you won’t wake up and spoil the surprise, she puts a spell on you—she even wiggles her index finger around like a wand for good measure. “Stay asleep, Shane—stay freaking asleep. You’re very tired after working all day yesterday, and you want to sleep until the day changes again.” She hears a hum escape through the small gap of your lips, which makes her confident that the spell is working. “Good boy,” she pats you through the air.

She tippy-toes her way out of the bedroom and gently closes the door behind her; she’s doing everything she can to make as little noise as possible. She looks towards the TV to find the small clock sitting on the shelf: 5:04 a.m. “Should be plenty of time,” she says to herself.

Jiwoo ties her hair in a bun as she prepares to start cooking. She grabs some items from the fridge and sets them on the counter next to her phone. “Right, so,” she opens her memo app and looks at the ingredients list, “noodles, boneless chicken thighs, potato, and onion—that should be everything.”

She drizzles a bit of cooking oil into a non-stick pan that she has prepared and— “oh, wait, the chicken.” She was supposed to cut the chicken into cubes first, so she turns off the burner and places the chicken on a cutting board. Jiwoo skillfully cuts the chicken and then turns her attention back to the pan. “Now we can really start,” she says.

Jiwoo throws in the small pieces of chicken into the hot pan and stirs it around, making sure that it’s cooked through. After that, she tosses in the potato and onion (that she has chopped into cubes secretly yesterday before you got home) and stirs again for a few minutes. Once the potato becomes a bit translucent, she drizzles some more oil and adds black bean paste into the mix. “2 cups of water, okay.” Jiwoo grabs a measuring cup from the cupboard and fills it with water, repeating it again after that to meet the needed measurements. “Hey, Nudle, start a 10-minute timer for me,” she says to her phone, and it responds to her in its catchy voice.

She decides that she’ll use the time to wash the dirty knife and cutting board and wipe the dining table clean. After that’s done, she lies on the sofa to catch her breath. “I hope he doesn’t wake up now,” she thinks to herself while eyeing the bedroom door. For some odd reason, suspense enters Jiwoo’s mind; it’s as if she was watching a horror movie. “Oh, God, please don’t wake up. Han Jaehyun, please don’t wake up—not when I’m this close.” The ring from her phone steals her attention, and she immediately turns it off, concerned that maybe you’ll hear it and wake up. “Okay, okay,” she takes a few deep breaths to calm down, “everything is fine—everything is just fine.”

Jiwoo makes her way to the kitchen again to cook the noodles, which is the second last step to this sneaky adventure. She brings a pot full of water to a boil and throws in the noodles. They’re not dried noodles, so cooking them will only take around a minute, maybe a minute and a half. After that’s done, she turns off the burner and— “FUCK!” She accidentally touches the edge of the hot pot when reaching for the strainer, thus forcing her to let out a scream of profanity because of the combination of shock and pain.

“Are you okay, babe?” Your sudden presence shocks Jiwoo to the core; she didn’t expect you to sneakily come out of the bedroom like this, hence the little jump. That said, she currently has a bigger problem on her hands—literally. “O-oppa,” she says weakly, in pain from the burn, “h-help me, please.” Jiwoo briefly explains that her fingers are burning, so you drag her over to the sink and run some water on her hands. “What were you up to, baby?” You ask in a gentle voice as quiet sobs escape your girlfriend’s lips. “I-I was making some jjajangmyeon for you, oppa.”

You don’t know what to feel right now: you’re touched that she’s making a surprise for you, but at the same time, you hate seeing her get hurt like this, even if it was an accident. “Oh my God, baby,” you feel like your heart is being wrung, “are you feeling better, though? Is this working?” She nods and pulls her hands away from the sink, not forgetting to thank you for the help. You quickly glance at her face and see that there are tears on her plump cheeks. You turn her face towards you and gently wipe her tears with your thumbs, putting on a kind smile in the process.

“You can continue, babe; I’ll watch.” You place a hand on the small of her back and keep an eye on her as she strains the noodles and divides them into the two bowls. Jiwoo then pours a nice amount of the black sauce mix into the bowl. “Let’s eat, oppa,” she says. You stop her from grabbing her bowl and instead pull her into a lifted hug.

“Thank you for all of this, baby; I appreciate everything, seriously,” you say right into her ear. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” she replies in a sad tone, “fuck, you’re so fucking stupid, Kim Jiwoo.” “Oh, c’mon, don’t say such thing,” you deny her attempt at self-deprecation, “you just had a little accident, babe—it doesn’t take anything away from your efforts, trust me.” Jiwoo lets out a hum, and you take it as a sign that she accepts your consolidation. “Now let’s eat, baby. This looks so damn good, and I can’t wait to shove it into my mouth,” you say, hyping her up.

You lower her gently onto one of the two chairs at the table and spray kisses all over her head. “Oppa, please, the food will get cold,” she tries to make you stop. You do stop, but before you grab the bowls from the counter, you turn her head towards you and come in for a kiss. It feels like she’s not too interested in kissing, but when you try to pull away, Jiwoo chases you. “Thank you, oppa,” she says after breaking the little tangle. “The pleasure is mine, baby.”

You take the two bowls from the counter and place them on the table. “Thank you for the meal, baby,” you say. Hearing you thank her again makes Jiwoo feel better about all of this, and it looks like she’s not too upset about “failing” the surprise. “I swapped out the pork belly for chicken, oppa,” she informs you as her chopsticks dance in her bowl, mixing the sauce mix with the noodles.

“Oh!” The first mouthful takes your soul high to the sky, making your body sink limply into the chair. “Oh, my—oh my God, Jiwoo-yah,” your eyelids shut tight as you savor the taste, “this is incredible—the chicken is soooo juicy, too.” Unfortunately, you can only chew for so long before you must swallow. Fortunately, you still have plenty of this heavenly food in your bowl. “Thank you for the meal, baby,” you repeat, “thank you so, so, so, so much.” Your sweetness makes Jiwoo feel better once again, and her lips, without her realizing, are forming a wide smile. “Th-thank you, oppa,” she fans her red cheeks to cope with the heat.

You keep your attention on your bowl, shoving more and more food into your mouth at an uncontrollable pace. “Howy shid,” you swallow the food in your mouth before continuing, “I don’t have the adjectives, but I know my brothers would fight to have a bite.” Jiwoo can’t take it anymore. She rushes to you and squeezes your cheek in playful aggression. “Youuuuuu,” she kneads your face like they were bread dough, “you are sooooo—arghhhhh.” You let out unintelligible sounds as your face contorts from her touch. “B-babe, stop,” you hold her wrists to halt her, “you haven’t even taken a bite, have you?”

With a sigh, she returns to her seat and puts some noodles in her mouth. She starts chewing in silence while her eyes roam around. “Hmm,” she rubs her chin as she thinks about the taste, “could use a bit more salt, but yeah, this is pretty good.” “Pretty good? What do you mean pretty good? This is very good,” you argue. Your girlfriend lets out a long sigh in defeat. “Fine,” she says, “thank you for the kind words, oppa—I love you.”

You leave your seat and pull her onto her feet. “You know what I want, don’t you?” You expect her to come in for a hug, but no, she’s getting down on her knees. “Wait, wait, not that one,” you pull her onto her feet again, “I meant this.” You wrap your arms around her and make sure your hands meet perfectly on the small of her back. You whisper all the praises you can come up with, and most importantly: “I love you, precious. I love you so, so much and thank you for cooking for us this morning.” Jiwoo responds by giving you a peck, letting you know that the praises are well received.

“Come on, oppa, let’s shower,” she pulls away from the embrace, “I’ll take care of this, so you can go first.” You thank her one more time—you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve thanked her so far—and make your way towards the bathroom while Jiwoo stays behind to wash the dishes.

In the silence, Jiwoo finds herself grinning widely. “That was a success in my book,” she giggles, “one point for Kim Jiwoo—whooo, let’s go!”

“Oppa, do you think I can work at Harvey-oppa’s company? Will he take me in?”

“First of all, why do you want to work for him? Is there something wrong with your current job?”

“Nothing is wrong, but I feel like working for him would make me feel more motivated—y’know, he’s family and all that.”

Your heart flutters a little when you hear Jiwoo refer to your brother as family; she understands the importance of family and sees your brothers as her own, and you’d like to think that this is a good sign for the relationship going forward.

You clear your throat to focus back on her. “Okay, so do you want me to talk to him? We can call him now,” you offer her some help. Jiwoo says that she’ll try updating her CV and send an application first, and if that doesn’t work, then she’ll consider resorting to nepotism—not the prettiest or classiest approach to say the least, but it does have a high chance of success. “Okay, you do that,” you say, “maybe I’ll join you one day.”

“Why aren’t you working for Harvey-oppa? Is that not what mama and papa want for you and Shaun-oppa?”

“Yes, but Yunho-hyung is paying me very handsomely, and I don’t feel like leaving his company at the moment.”

“Ckckckckck,” Jiwoo shakes her head, “imagine not working for your brother because someone else pays you more—couldn’t be me.”

“I need the money to buy a ring and a house for you, baby,” you say in your head while putting on a smile as a front. “Well, it’s time to go to work—let’s get changed, babe.” You and Jiwoo exchange pecks for good luck and walk towards the bedroom together to get changed.

Jiwoo boots up her laptop as soon as she arrives at her cubicle. “CV, CV—where is my CV,” she browses through a bunch of work-related folders to find it, and she finds this file named “CV KIM JIWOO” that was last modified around a year ago. Before she opens this file, she looks around to make sure no one is watching—it’d be awkward if someone found out Jiwoo is trying to leave this company for another.

Jiwoo scrolls up and down through her CV, trying to figure out which part is out-of-date, and she finds that only the experience and skills need to be updated. She adds one more bullet point to the list of experience and explains briefly the things she’s accomplished in her current company, such as projects she’s taken a part of and awards she’s received. Just those two things alone take up over half a page since Jiwoo is very good at her stuff and well-liked by her co-workers, which means that she’s very often included on projects—it also means that she makes a lot in bonuses since each project usually comes with one. Jiwoo’s cursor hovers over a particular project that she’s very proud of, considering its complexity and how well she did her part. “If this doesn’t land me a job at Harvey-oppa’s company, then HR is cooked in the head and he needs to find replacements,” she says to herself.

Moving on, she adds some new information to the skills section of her CV. She recently got 855 on a TOEIC test and is very proud about it, so she replaces her old score of 820 with the new one. “I’m sure someone of foreign descent like him will appreciate good English proficiency,” she thinks to herself. One thing to note, however, is that her application will first arrive in the hands of HR and not one of the big bosses like Han Harvey, and she hopes that everything written on her CV is enough to impress the lower-level managers—if she can help it, she wants to get the job legitimately, not through nepotism.

Before she wraps this up and starts working, she reads her CV one more time from the top. “Name is correct, date of birth is also correct, address is—hmm, should I use Shane-oppa’s address?”

While Jiwoo thinks about it, someone taps her shoulder from behind. “What the—oh my God, unnie!” Jiwoo just got caught off-guard and red-handed by her co-worker, Soodam, who must’ve snuck up behind her when she was deep in her thoughts. “Hey there,” Soodam greets Jiwoo with a smile, “looking to jump ship, cookie?” Jiwoo minimizes the window on her laptop and turns to Soodam with red cheeks. “P-please don’t tell anyone about this, unnie; I-I just want to explore my opportunities,” she says. “Do you think I can go with you, Jiwoo-yah?” Soodam’s question startles Jiwoo. “Y-you want to leave too, unnie?”

Soodam explains that she thinks she’s not getting paid enough for the amount of work that she does and would like to “explore her opportunities,” just like Jiwoo. “I’ll talk to my boy—” Jiwoo covers her mouth to stop herself, but Soodam catches the slip. “Boyfriend, huh? What can your boyfriend do for us?” Before the conversation goes even further, Jiwoo pulls Soodam closer towards her. “My boyfriend is the brother of this other company’s boss,” she whispers to her, “I told him I’d try doing things legitimately first before… y’know.” “I’m with you,” Soodam says, “good to know that you have insider ties, though.”

After parting ways with Soodam, Jiwoo pulls out her phone to text you. “Oppa, who do I send my CV to?” She sees that you’re not online currently, so she locks her phone and gets ready to start working for possibly her last day at this company.

You see Jiwoo’s text on your notification bar, but you don’t want to answer right away; you first need a second opinion on this matter, and there’s no one more qualified for that other than your dear sister-in-law. “Noona, I need you; please pick up,” you say while waiting for her to pick up the call.

“Hello, this is Kim Yooyeon.”

“Oh, yes,” you sigh in relief, “noona, this is Shane.”

“Yes, I know,” you hear a chuckle from her over the phone, “can I help you? Are you looking for your brother?”

“No, no, I’m not looking for him—I’m looking for you,” you say, “can we talk? Do you have time?”

“Yeah, sure—what do you need?”

“This morning Jiwoo asked me if she could work for Hyunjin-hyung because she said it’d make her feel more motivated because he’s family, and now I’m wondering if I should tell him about Jiwoo’s intentions.”

Your noona stays silent for a moment, trying to come up with a solution.

“Jiwoo said she wanted to do it legitimately, but I want to help her—you know, with insider ties” you pile on.

“Well, in that case,” she says, “I’d say just let her do it her way first, and if that doesn’t work, then we’ll consider other methods.”

“Do you know when Hyunjin-hyung is coming home, by the way?”

“No, I don’t,” she lets out a deep sigh, “I miss him more than anyone, I can assure you that.”

“Noona,” you get ready to move on to the next subject, “I want to get married.”

“Huh? What?” The suddenness most likely surprises Yooyeon. “Wait, what? Why so sudden? Have you even talked to Jiwoo about this?”

“No, I haven’t—I just envy the way the both of you are so in love with each other,” you say, “do you think I have a chance at marriage, noona?”

“What the h—well, yes, I do; I think you’re a nice guy and Jiwoo is a nice girl,” she says, “you know, you’re being such a terrible little brother right now—how can you ask a woman whose husband hasn’t been home for a week about marriage?”

You’re not sure where she’s going with this. “Sorry, what?”

”Ugh, forget it,” she says, and based on her tone, you can picture her rolling her eyes, “anyway, like I said, let Jiwoo do it her way and then we’ll see what things look like.”

You thank her for the help, and after exchanging goodbyes, you hang up the call, and now that you have an answer to this equation, you turn your attention to Jiwoo. Via text, you send Han Group’s HR’s email address to her. You end the text with, “You said you wanted to do this legitimately, so I wish you good luck, baby.” “Thank you, daddy,” she replies, “I’ll send it right now—I love you!” Your eyes blink rapidly in a combination of disbelief and startlement; she just called you daddy as if you were in the bedroom. “Time and place, Jiwoo-yah—my God.” “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.” You reply to her and delete her text just to be safe.

You always pick up Jiwoo at her office after work, and today is no different. You stop on the side of the road right in front of the glass front doors of her building and wait for her to come out. After a few minutes, you see her walking out with another woman. “Wait, that’s—”

You jump out of the car (after looking at the side mirror first) and meet the two women. “Oppa, this is my co-worker, Soodam-unnie. Unnie, this is my boyfriend,” Jiwoo introduces the two of you. Soodam’s eyes widen in shock, “wait, are you—” “No, I’m Shane—you’re thinking about my twin brother,” you cut her off, and you swear that you can see her sighing in relief.

For context, Shaun, who is always into older women, tried courting this Soodam lady a few years ago, only to find out that she was engaged to another man. That was almost disastrous, by the way; your older brother even had to intervene.

Jiwoo looks at the two of you in confusion but quickly moves on to another subject. “Soodam-unnie also sent an application to Harvey-oppa’s company,” Jiwoo briefly gives some context. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Inside, however, you wonder if it is indeed so, because Shaun works at Han Group, and considering that he is in a relationship with someone else, this could be problematic. “This is not your problem, Shane,” you think to yourself.

You shake hands with Soodam with a smile on your face—a smile that’s hiding awkwardness behind it. “Nice to meet you, miss,” you say, and she says the same to you. You shoot a quick look at Jiwoo, who immediately catches the signal, and the two of you get ready to part ways with Soodam. Jiwoo hugs Soodam and then walks with you to the car, leaving Soodam alone on the side of the road.

In the private space of your car, Jiwoo airs her confusion. “Do you know her, oppa? Why did you mention your twin?” You shortly explain to her the history of Shaun and Soodam and why Soodam was visibly startled to see you. “So Soodam-unnie reacted like that because she must’ve mistaken you for Shaun-oppa—did I get that right?” “You did, baby,” you say, “and now I’m concerned that they’ll see each other again if she moves to Han Group.” “My God.” Jiwoo leans back in her seat as she tries to process this shocking reveal. “Don’t tell Seeun-noona about any of this, babe; we don’t want to get Shaun in trouble,” you say to her.

After catching up with your family’s little history, Jiwoo mentions that she wants to eat out for dinner. You ask if she has preferences, and she says that she wants to get tteokbokki. “You and your tteokbokki, babe—you’d think you would’ve got sick of it by now,” you comment, earning a giggle and a playful slap from her.

After a short drive, you find yourself stopping in front of an alley where Jiwoo’s favorite tteokbokki restaurant is located. You get out of the car with her and make your way towards the restaurant. She’s been to this place a lot; the middle-aged lady at the cashier (who you assume is the owner) instantly recognizes her and guesses that she wants the usual.

There aren’t that many empty seats at the moment; it seems like a lot of people have the same idea and want to have tteokbokki after work. You scan around the interior and find a table in the far corner of the restaurant, whose occupants are about to leave. They seem to have left the table clean, and you fast-walk towards it to claim it before anyone else—you’re the designated seat finder in this relationship, so leaving Jiwoo behind to sit first is A-okay.

Jiwoo joins you shortly after and sits across from you. Usually, she’d rather sit next to you, but the space doesn’t really allow that; to your left is the wall and to your near right is another table. She rests her head on the table, looking very exhausted after working today. “Tired, baby?” You pet her head gently, running your hands through her hair the way she likes it. “Mm-hmm,” she mumbles, “I had a lot of work today.” You praise her for working so hard all the time, and even though you can’t see it, she’s probably grinning in pride right now.

You tap Jiwoo’s arm to get her to straighten her posture as a server is on his way to you with your orders. He places a large bowl of tteokbokki and another large bowl of popcorn chicken somewhat crassly—he also has a sour face. “Yeah,” Jiwoo says, “he isn’t known for being the nicest guy around.” You’re starting to feel disgruntled; if you were alone, you wouldn’t be so mad to see poor service, but considering that you’re with a loved one, you feel angrier—no one gets to be rude and ruin the vibes when you’re with those you love. “I don’t mean to be arrogant, but we can easily buy out this place and replace that guy,” you snark. “That is arrogant, oppa,” Jiwoo rubs the back of your hand gently to calm you down. “Please, it’s okay—he’s probably just tired, oppa, like we are.” You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and apologize for your attitude.

Your girlfriend picks up a piece of tteokbokki and immediately chases it with a large piece of chicken. As you watch her eat, you can feel the heat in your heart gradually dissipate, and a smile is forming on your face. She picks up a piece of tteokbokki and immediately chases it with a large piece of chicken. You decide to put down your chopsticks and enjoy the sight of your girlfriend eating in front of you, not caring if she finishes the whole meal by herself.

It seems like she’s very hungry too; it took her until halfway through the meal to realize that you haven’t eaten at all. “Oh my God, oppa,” she exclaims, “why aren’t you eating?” “Ah,” you’re snapped out of your trance, “I was too busy watching you eat, baby.” You’re torn between two options, though: do you want to get some food into your belly after working all day, or do you want to keep watching your girlfriend eat oh-so-cutely?

“Say aaah.” Jiwoo decides for you by guiding a piece of chicken towards your mouth, leaving you with no choice but to open your mouth. There’s a grin on your face as you chew, and you can see her grinning too; you realize that only Jiwoo deserves your attention right now—it doesn’t matter if anyone else tries to ruin the mood; she’ll easily draw a smile on your face. “Thank you, baby,” you say to her, “I love you so much.” “I love you too,” she replies, “now eat, please.”

You get back to your car with Jiwoo after finishing the meal. “Would you like to get anything else before we go home, baby?” “No, let’s just go home, please.” Based on her tone, you can tell that she only has little energy left in her tank. “Home it is.” You turn the steering wheel to the left and place a foot on the accelerate pedal to join the moving lane.

The traffic isn’t too bad; it’s just that this specific traffic light is infamous for its long queues during rush hour. In the corner of your eyes, you see that your girlfriend is sleeping in her seat with her mouth slightly open. Unfortunately, it seems like her current position isn’t too comfortable, but there’s nothing you can do at the moment. “We’ll sleep properly at home, alright, babe?”

After getting through the traffic light, you pick up the speed, aiming to get home as soon as possible so that Jiwoo can rest properly. You take advantage of slower drivers and change lanes whenever possible, earning some honks from other drivers occasionally. “Screw you—pay attention to the road next time,” you comment.

You go through the last turn before you reach your apartment building and quickly go up to your designated parking spot. Once your car is neatly parked, you turn off your car and turn your attention to your girlfriend, who is still asleep. You then rush to your unit with Jiwoo’s limp body in your arms.

“We’re here, baby.” You lower her gently onto the bed, and she’s still asleep. You prepare a T-shirt and shorts for her to change into for later. “I’ll shower first, babe.” As you’re leaving, however, you hear a grunt of disapproval from your girlfriend. “Oppa,” she calls to you with raspy voice, “don’t leave me.” You join her in bed and pull her into a cuddle. “Wait, don’t you want to change first, babe? I prepared some clothes for you.” You can tell that she doesn’t want to move too much but her work clothes are anything but comfortable. “Help me change, oppa,” she says.

“May I?” You ask for consent, which Jiwoo gives in the form of a nod. You start unbuttoning her shirt from the top. With Jiwoo’s cooperation, you free her arms from the restraining sleeves of her shirt, and if it weren’t for her bra, she’d be entirely topless right now. You move to take off her trousers, but first: “may I, baby?” Jiwoo nods to your question, expressing her consent one more time, so with that, you unzip her trousers and pull them down her legs until they’re properly off.

Jiwoo lifts her butt off the bed when you try putting on a pair of shorts for her. “Last one, baby.” You put on a T-shirt for her, and she cooperates once again by putting her arms through the sleeves herself. “Good girl,” you peck her on the forehead, “my turn now.”

You change into a T-shirt and shorts before joining your girlfriend in bed. “Hngh,” Jiwoo grunts again while reaching her arms out, asking to be held. “Of course, baby; I won’t forget about you.” You pull her into your embrace and close your eyes, savoring the lingering scent of her perfume from this morning. “Let’s rest a bit, okay? We can worry about other stuff later,” you say.

Something is telling you to open your eyes, so you do—what time is it, even? In your half-asleep state, you look around the dark bedroom with your half-open eyes. You can see and feel that Jiwoo is still in your arms, which is a good start. You gently run your hand on her back, just the way she likes it.

If there’s anything that could be considered “wrong” with you, it’s your inability to keep your hands off your girlfriend, but at least she’s okay with it most of the time; physical contact is one of Jiwoo’s favorite things in the world.

“Oppa,” she calls to you suddenly, “I want to be with you forever.” You really want to say that you’re working on it, but you don’t want to spoil your plans, so for now, you give her a basic answer: “I want to be with you forever as well, baby; there’s nothing more that I want for us than that.”

“Do you think we have Harvey-oppa’s approval?” Ah, she’s concerned about your older brother, the honorary head of the Han family. “You do,” you assure her, “he and Yooyeon-noona know what kind of person we are. Not only that, but they also know that we’re in love with each other.” Jiwoo lets out a hum, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“Their anniversary is around the corner, right?” Jiwoo moves on to the next subject. “Huh, you’re right,” you just realized now. “We should call them, oppa; you know, say congratulations and all that,” she suggests. “We’ll call them this morning before leaving for work, okay? Let’s try going to sleep again for now.” You peck her head a few times and close your eyes again.

The morning rolls around, and you wake up after what felt like a few minutes of sleep (it was probably a few hours in actuality). “Baby, sweetie, cookie—let’s wake up, hey?” You poke Jiwoo a few times to wake her up, and she slowly opens her eyes. “I’m tired, oppa,” she says. You look at your phone to see if she has time for extra rest. “You have 30 minutes, baby—I’ll take a shower first while you sleep, okay?”

While standing under running water, you remember Jiwoo telling you that your brother’s anniversary is coming soon. “I should call them after this,” you think. You quickly finish showering and check up on your girlfriend again.

“Baby, I’m sorry but your time is up.” You hate breaking it to her, but you have no other choice. With a groan, Jiwoo gets off the bed and wraps her arms around your body. “Take care of me, oppa.” You’re not sure what kind of taking care of she needs, but you think that it’s probably best to have her shower first. You lift her by her thighs and carry her towards the bathroom.

She lightly bites you in the neck when she notices that you’re taking her to the bathroom. “Oh my God, I hate you sometimes—why are you doing this to me, oppa?” “Sorry, baby, but this is necessary.” You gently lower her onto her feet and make to leave the bathroom area. “Wait!” Jiwoo halts your steps by hugging you from behind. “Please—please don’t leave me.”

You’re not sure why she’s behaving like this. “Baby, are you okay? You don’t act like this usually.” “I-I don’t know,” she says, “I just don’t want to be left alone.” “Okay, so do you want to shower with me, or do you want me to wait here?” Jiwoo takes a sniff and lets out a grunt after. “You already showered, so I’ll just shower alone—wait here, please.”

Jiwoo lets go of the hug and walk backwards to the bathroom, keeping her eyes on you the whole time. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” You sit on the floor in front of the bathroom and simply wait for her to shower. “What’s going on with Jiwoo, man?” You ask yourself, wondering why she’s acting like this out of nowhere.

You feel someone poking you on the knee. “Oppa, what are you doing?” You open your eyes and see Jiwoo, fresh out of the shower with wet hair, kneeling in front of you. “Did you fall asleep, oppa?” “I must’ve,” you rub your eyes to get yourself together, “you’re done showering, baby?” Jiwoo holds your hands and tugs, signaling to you to stand up, so you do just that. She then comes in for a hug, placing her head on your chest. “I’m sorry for being difficult, oppa.” You assure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. “You’re always so kind, oppa—thank you,” she says.

You lie down on the sofa while Jiwoo dries her hair, and you’re reminded again that your brother and his wife, Yooyeon, are celebrating their anniversary today. You come up with a congratulatory message and send it to Yooyeon. “I think I’m looking to propose by the end of the month, noona,” you add.

The app says that she’s typing, and the timing couldn’t be any more perfect: Jiwoo is asking if you can video call your sister-in-law. “Sure, let’s do it,” you say. Once she’s ready, you start the call.

“Hey, guys,” your brother greets you from the other side of the screen, “good morning!”

You take the speaking baton first. “Good morning, hyung and noona—congratulations on the 6th anniversary, guys!”

Harvey thanks you for the congratulations, and in return, he asks how you and Jiwoo are doing. “We’ve been very good, oppa,” Jiwoo takes the baton from you, “I know we’re not married yet, but our 2nd anniversary is around the corner.”

Truthfully, you forgot that it is indeed around the corner; you shoot a glance at the sleeping TV, which screen saver says the date and time, and see that your anniversary is 6 days away.

“Ask Shane to take you on a dinner, Jiwoo-yah; I’m sure he has the money for it,” your brother says, snapping you out of your little trance, and the gears in your head start turning, trying to quickly come up with a plan to celebrate your anniversary.

Through the video call, you see that your sister-in-law is aiming her camera at the food on their table. “Ahhhh, unnieeee!” Jiwoo slaps your thighs repeatedly, reacting hysterically to the Morningside logo on the bowl shown on the screen. She promptly turns her attention to you and whispers something right in your ear. “Oppa, can we go to Morningside this weekend?” You respond to her suggestion with a nod. “We’ll join you next time, unnie—we have other things to do today,” Jiwoo says.

You take turns with your girlfriend to start conversations with your brother and his wife, and after a few minutes, you notice that she’s almost ready to end the call. “Harvey-oppa, Yooyeon-unnie,” Jiwoo says, her tone sweet and sincere, “congratulations on the anniversary, seriously. I hope me and oppa get to live happily together like the two of you.” “Thank you for the kind words, cookie,” Harvey says, “we’re rooting for the both of you—see you soon!”

You exchange goodbye waves with the people on the other side of the screen then end the call right after. “Visit us this Saturday for Jack-in-the-box,” says a text message from Yooyeon, making your heart rate climb. “What does that mean, oppa?” Jiwoo points at your screen, right where the floating notification is. “I-I don’t know,” you answer nervously.

You’re nervous because truthfully, you know what it means: you, Shaun, and Harvey came up with that term to secretly refer to “getting a ring and proposing” when Harvey was courting Yooyeon a few years ago. So the fact that he’s said it now after all this time must mean that he’s in full support of your relationship and encourages you to commit further, which is both exciting and nerve-wracking.

“You believe in us, don’t you, hyung?” You say in your head while trying to maintain a straight face. “You’re acting weird,” Jiwoo comments with a chuckle, “first it was me, and now it’s you—what’s wrong with us today, oppa?” You let out an awkward chuckle, still trying your best to not show your nervousness. “Well, I guess we’ll find out,” you deflect, “c’mon, let’s go to work.”

Before you know it, it’s now Saturday. Your brother invited you to his house a few days ago for Jack-in-the-box, a secret term that hasn’t been mentioned in years—one problem, though: how do you go to his house alone, because Jiwoo most likely would want to tag along if she’s free.

You sit on the sofa, rubbing your chin to come up with something to dissuade your girlfriend from coming along, and that’s when she walks out of the bedroom with a question. “Oppa, Soodam-unnie asked me to hang out at a café with her—can I go?” “Of course, baby,” you put on a smile for her, “do you want me to take you there?” She takes you up on your offer and gets back into the bedroom to change, and you let out a deep sigh of relief; you don’t need to fool her into not tagging along because she already has something else to do.

After dropping off Jiwoo at the café, you start driving towards your brother’s house, which is quite close from where you are. There’s little-to-no traffic today, since it’s the weekend and still early—it’s barely 10 a.m.

You pull into his driveway next to his car and get off yours. “Hi,” your brother greets you from the front door, “come in, we need to talk first.” You follow him inside but see no sign of his wife. “Where’s noona?” He says that she just got out of the bathroom and will join you soon.

Your brother takes a seat on the sofa while you take the cushion chair to his left. “Oh, you’re here,” Yooyeon greets you, “this must be for the Jack-in-the-box thing.” She takes the empty spot next to her husband. “Can one of you explain what that means?” Harvey explains briefly what it means: “we’re also going to help him buy a ring,” he adds.

“Do you think you’re ready for this?” Your brother’s question makes you nervous. “I do,” you answer, “I, erm, I think we’re in love, a-and, you know—” The way you’re stuttering makes them laugh. “Well, I hope that you’ll be less nervous as the day goes.” Harvey stands up from his seat, and when the (honorary) head of the family stands up, you follow. “Let’s go get breakfast first and then we’ll visit the jewelers, hm?”

You depart in your brother’s car to ensure maximum secrecy—Jiwoo wouldn’t recognize this car if you happen to pass in front of the café she’s at. You take a seat in the middle row behind your brother because obviously the front passenger seat isn’t vacant. “We haven’t done this in so long, haven’t we, hyung?” Your question makes Harvey smile. “We haven’t, true—we’ll do this again with everyone once Shaun and Seeun return from New York.”

You’re promptly reminded of your meeting with Soodam. “Hyung, I met Soodam-noona a few days ago.” His unique, sharp eyes look at you through the rear-view mirror of the car. “Yeah? What did she say?” “She thought I was Shaun,” you answer. You hear a deep sigh coming from him. “That’s fine, I guess—it could’ve been worse.” Yooyeon is curious: she doesn’t know who Soodam is, and in turn, doesn’t know what Shaun has to do with her. When she asks, Harvey explains in longer form their history, and at the end, you see her placing a palm on her face.

You, Harvey, and Yooyeon sit together at a 4-person table at Morningside, which happens to be somewhat empty currently. Here are the things you and your company ordered: two Singaporean-style toasts, two congee with char siu beef, and three hot lychee tea.

“Shane,” Harvey whispers to you while looking over your shoulders. “Jiwoo is here.” You turn around in shock, and would you look at that: she is indeed here—Soodam is also here. “Oh, shit, the surprise is spoiled,” you think, and you feel like you understand how Jiwoo felt when her surprise was spoiled a short while ago. “She doesn’t see us, though,” you comment.

While it is true that Jiwoo doesn’t see you, Soodam does and tells Jiwoo about your presence. She jogs towards your table and gives you a peck on the lips. “Oh my God, what a crowd—hello, my name is Kim Jiwoo. Pleased to meet you,” she says, earning a collective laughter from your group. “Crazy coincidence, isn’t it, baby?” “It is—we could’ve gone together, oppa.” Jiwoo then asks again if she can hang out with Soodam, and obviously, you let her go. You’re not holding her back from hanging out with her friends (aside from her male co-workers who have tried shooting their shots but that’s a story for another time).

“God,” you let out a sigh of relief, “I thought it was blown.” Your brother lets out a laugh, fully understanding of your feelings. “Keeping a secret from your beloved lady is never easy—ask me how I know” he adds, and Yooyeon joins him in laughing.

The smell of butter steals your attention, and when you turn your head around, you see a server walking towards your table. “That must be your toasts, noona,” you say, and indeed, it is her toasts. You help the server distribute food to your brother and his wife. “The tea will be out after this—please kindly wait,” the server says, already way kinder than that guy working at the tteokbokki restaurant. “Sure, no problem—thank you,” you reply with a smile.

Yooyeon is the first to both take a bite and react to her food, letting out satisfied hums while chewing her first mouthful. “I really can’t have enough of this,” she comments. Harvey reacts to that by giving her a peck on the cheek—a cute sight, really; you love seeing your brother interacting with his wife and how in love they are with each other.

After a short ride, the three of you arrive at this seemingly none-of-the-ordinary jewelers.

You ask Harvey if he’s been here before. “Hm? Oh, yeah,” he says, “I bought a necklace for Yooyeon-ie from this place a few months ago.” “You did, hon?” Yooyeon scratches her head as she tries to remember. In playful aggresiveness, your brother pinches his wife cheeks for failing to remember. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She exclaims frantically, and your brother stops right away. “Come on, let’s find something for our cookie,” he says, leading you and Yooyeon inside.

“Ah, welcome, Mr. Han,” a staff member in a neat three-piece suit greets your brother. He then takes turns to shake your and Yooyeon’s hands. “My little brother here is looking for a ring,” Harvey says. “Do you know the measurements, sir?” The staff turns his attention to you. Your eyes land on your sister-in-law as you think about Jiwoo’s finger size. “Should be similar to my noona here,” you say. Yooyeon takes off her ring and passes it to the staff who then takes a measurement.

“Size 6, hey?” He shuffles some shelves around and place one that’s packed with brilliant rings on the top. “Here are the options we have currently, sir—we can also make a custom ring but that will take longer and cost more,” he says. Harvey can tell that you’re nervous about the price, so he whispers in your ear that he’ll take care of it. “Your job today, Shane, is to choose one that you really like,” he says. “Thank you for this, seriously,” you whisper back to him, getting a soft pat on the back from him.

You first point out to the staff member that you’d rather choose from this abundance of choices than wait for a custom-made ring. “Can I look at that one, please? Row 3 column G,” you say. You flip it around in your hand, inspecting small diamond main piece. “Jiwoo doesn’t like flashy stuff, so I think this is definitely one of the choices for now,” you comment. You place the ring on the glass counter and start looking for other options. “Row 5 column C, please,” you say. Upon closer inspection, however, it doesn’t look as good as the first one.

Initially, you thought that you should find 3 rings to choose from, but aside from the first ring your eyes landed on, nothing else catches your fancy. “Guys, what do you think?” You turn to Harvey and Yooyeon for opinions. Yooyeon defers; she thinks that you should choose what you like. Her husband, on the other hand, thinks that your choice is a good one. “I would buy that if I were proposing—I’m not, just so we’re clear,” he adds, laughing at the end. “I’ll take this, please.” You hand the ring back to the guy, earning a praise for your “good eye” from him.

Today is the day of your 2nd anniversary with Jiwoo. Not only that, today is also the day she’s doing an interview for the job at Han Group she has applied for.

Jiwoo says that she has permission from her manager to take today off so that she can go to the in-person interview. She also asks you to drop her off at the Han Group building on your way to work. “Sure, baby—let’s leave after this, okay?”

For the interview, Jiwoo opts for a white shirt and a black skirt—a very typical interview attire worn by fresh graduates looking for a job. She walks into the building and sees a reception desk that has someone attending it. “Excuse me, miss,” she says quietly, “my name is Kim Jiwoo. I’m here for an interview.” After looking at the screen in front of her, the staff tells Jiwoo to go up to the 4th floor, where an interviewer will join her soon.

Jiwoo sees an open room with a big conference table on the 4th floor. “This is it, probably,” she thinks. It is when she’s right at the door that she sees the short list of today’s interviewees: Kim Jiwoo and Lee Soodam. She also sees that each person will be given around an hour for the interview.

“Hello. You must be Kim Jiwoo.” A female around her age enters the room, making Jiwoo jump a little thanks to the shock. Her eyes widen when she sees the person behind this lady. “Hi, cookie. How are you today?” Harvey’s sudden presence stuns Jiwoo: no one mentioned that he’d be in the room where it happens—what if she lets him down? What if he thinks that Jiwoo isn’t needed at Han Group?

“Mi-mister Han,” she stutters, “p-pleasure to meet you, s-sir.” Harvey laughs. “You thought I wouldn’t know, Miss Kim? I have eyes and ears everywhere, you know,” he says. Jiwoo remains quiet as Harvey moves to take a seat at the other end of the table. “Please, there’s nothing to be nervous about. We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?” “Y-yes, sir,” she replies nervously. Harvey shows her a kind smile. “Well, let’s start now, Miss Jo,” he says to the interviewer.

Miss Jo, paying little attention to personal details, throws some work-related questions at Jiwoo, and she answers each one as best she can, glancing occasionally at Harvey. “Wow, their smiles are very similar,” she thinks. Miss Jo then turns to him, passing the speaking baton over. “So, Miss Kim,” he starts, “can you tell me what you’re looking for at this company?” Jiwoo’s heart races as she tries to come up with an answer. “With respect, sir, I think working at Han Group w-would make me be more motivated,” she says the first answer that comes to mind. “Really? How so?” In her head, she wonders if she should say the same thing she did to you: because Harvey is family. “Ah, whatever—here goes nothing.” She takes a deep breath and answers: “b-because I’d be working for fa-f-family, s-sir.” Her stutter was worse than earlier, making her want to slap herself for it.

Harvey grins. “Family, Miss Kim?” He asks, and she’s starting to regret saying such answer. He takes a deep breath before speaking again. “First, I like that you refer to me as family—I’m sure your significant other would be delighted to hear it if he was here. Second, I think that someone can only be really motivated about work if they enjoy and find satisfaction in it. Sure, working for family sounds like a good time, but at the same time, there’s the burden of relationship in that; there’s a chance that you’ll find it difficult to make objective decisions or critics because, well, they’re family.”

Jiwoo can’t help but stay silent during Harvey’s speech, feeling the pressure of the big boss’ commanding presence. “Any opinions on that, Miss Kim?” “N-none, sir. I understand what you said, and I think it made sense,” Jiwoo replies. Harvey whispers something to Miss Jo, and after a short back-and-forth, she leaves her seat and walks out of the room.

Harvey summons Jiwoo to sit next to him, and she complies immediately. “Jiwoo-yah,” he says, his tone softer than earlier, “why are you here, seriously? Answer honestly, please." She wipes the stray tear her glassy eyes released. “I-I meant it, oppa; I want to work for you because you are family,” she emphasizes. He puts his hand on Jiwoo’s, rubbing the back of it gently, the exact same way you usually do. “If you’re so sure, then I’m not stopping you—welcome to Han Group, Jiwoo-yah.” Jiwoo, without asking for permission first, jumps to hug Harvey. “Thank you so much, oppa. I won’t let you down, I swear,” she says tearily. “I know, cookie,” he replies, “go home for now, your work here can start some time else.”

As soon as you enter your apartment, a fragrant smell enters your nostrils. “Jiwoo-yah, where are you, baby?” You hear her reply from the kitchen area, so you drop everything at the door and make your way towards her.

“Welcome home!” Jiwoo hugs you warmly as a welcome. “Thank you, baby—what is this smell, by the way?” Over her head, you see that there’s a pot sitting on one of the burners. In it, there’s rice cake swimming in a bubbling red sauce—oh, there’s popcorn chicken on the counter, too. “You hated the service at that tteokbokki place, so I made it for you,” she says. You barrage her head with kisses, showing your appreciation for her efforts. “You always spoil me with your cooking, baby,” you say at the end.

Your girlfriend asks you to sit at the table while she gives final touches to her cooking. She then proceeds to put some in two bowls and places them on the table. “Thank you for the meal, baby!” You grab the chopsticks she has provided and immediately put a piece of rice cake in your mouth. “Oh, that’s so good.” You then chase it with a piece of chicken. “Wow, that’s also really good.” Your eyes land on Jiwoo, and you see that she has her happy face on; her plump cheeks are squished by the wide grin on her face.

“There’s no way it’s that good,” she thinks you’re exaggerating. “Why are you putting yourself down? Just take a bite and see for yourself, why don’t you,” you say, and based on your tone alone, Jiwoo can tell that you’re starting to get annoyed by her attitude. “It’s not that, oppa; it’s just that when you cook, your food doesn’t taste as good as when you buy it,” she reasons, her soft tone different to yours.

She takes a mouthful of food and thinks about the taste as she chews. “It is good,” she shyly admits, “I see why you like it so much.” “See? Don’t put yourself down so much next time, okay, baby?” Jiwoo nods and promises that she’ll keep it in mind and never do it again.

“Oppa,” she moves on to another subject, “I got the job at Han Group.” “Yeah? How did the interview go?” Jiwoo first mentions that Harvey was present during the interview and how surprising it was for her to see him. “I had a feeling that you wouldn’t have gotten away with being sneaky,” you say, adding a chuckle at the end. “You didn’t say anything to him, though, right?” No, you didn’t say anything to anyone about Jiwoo’s sneaky job search—it’s just that your brother does have eyes and ears everywhere.

After dinner, you find yourself chilling on the sofa with Jiwoo. She’s resting her head on your thighs while her hands are busy with her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media. You, on the other hand, can’t be bothered with it; you have a bigger thing to think about: how do you propose to Jiwoo? “Should I take her to the park? Do I just do it here?” Your brain gets busy trying to figure it out. “Fuck, man, what do I do?”

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down, and apparently, it’s loud enough to reach Jiwoo’s ears. “Are you okay, oppa? Do you need anything?” Nervousness is peaking in your head right now and you’re starting to sweat. “Can we talk, baby, please?” Your girlfriend lifts her head off your lap and looks at you nervously. “What do you want to talk about, oppa? Am I in trouble?” You close your eyes and take another deep breath. “First, I’d like to apologize for being so boring like this, but I’m just stumped and don’t know what to do,” you begin, making Jiwoo both nervous and confused.

You get off the sofa and get down on one knee. “Miss Kim Jiwoo,” you fish the small velvet box out of your back pocket, “will you marry me?” She stays silent. Her palm is covering her mouth. Her eyes are as wide as they can be. This isn’t quite the reaction you were hoping for, and as you wonder if you’ve made a bad move, your eyes wander off towards her knees.

“Yes, I will,” is her answer. When your eyes meet with her again, you see that tears are coming out of her eyes in abundance. “I will, oppa—I will marry you,” she repeats. Seeing her cry makes you emotional, and without command, your eyes start releasing tears. “I’m sorry, I should’ve come up with something grander for my proposal,” you say, feeling regretful. She joins you on the floor and hugs you tightly. She assures you that it’s okay and you have nothing to worry about. “It doesn’t take away from your efforts, oppa,” she uses your words against you. Deep inside, however, you promise that you’ll propose again with a grander prelude—Harvey proposed to Yooyeon at The Sapphire, maybe you can replicate that.

Jiwoo lets go of the hug and looks at the ring that’s still sitting in its tiny pedestal in the box. “I-I think you’re supposed to put it on my finger, oppa.” You chuckle. “Sorry, baby. I’m new to all of this,” you crack a little joke, earning a giggle from your girlfriend. You pull the ring out of the box and slide it onto her ring finger on her right hand. “I’m yours forever now, oppa,” she says while turning her hand around to inspect the ring. “This is a beautiful ring, too.” You place your forehead on hers, still unable to calm yourself down and stop the tears. “I love you, Jiwoo-yah. I love you with every cell in my body.” Jiwoo says she loves you more, referring to you as her fiancé.

“Oh, speaking of fiancé,” she says, pulling away from your embrace, “now that we’re really official, I want to go to university again, oppa—you know, get my master’s degree and all that.” You wipe your tears off your face and gather yourself. “O-okay, go—hah—go on.” “Can you, erm, can you pay for that, please?” Obviously, you’re not stopping your fiancé from getting higher education, so without thinking twice, you say yes. “I’m sure it’ll be beneficial for all of us, baby, so go ahead. Let me worry about the tuition,” you add.

In joy, Jiwoo jumps to hug you, and only now are you remembering an important fact. “Happy anniversary, baby.” Your fiancé lets out a chuckle. “I thought you forgot about it, oppa.” “I’m sorry, baby. I’m a freaking mess today,” you say. “Let me help fix that mess.” Jiwoo plants her lips on yours while her hands are fixed on your shoulders, and at this point, you swear that every mess in your heart and mind has been washed away. “Thank you, baby. I needed that so bad,” you thank her for the help. “Can we go to the bedroom, oppa?” “We sure can, baby.” You carry her in your arms and walk towards the bedroom.

“We’re here, baby,” you say as you climb onto the bed, “so, how do you want to cuddle?” Your fiancé frees herself from your arms, shaking her head as she does. “If we’re getting really married, oppa, you need to get better at catching signals,” she says. You look at her wordlessly while she takes her T-shirt off and throws it over her head. “Oh, she wanted to have sex—was I supposed to know that?”

Your attention is shifted towards her when you feel her fingers on the first button of your shirt, stripping you out of your work clothes. “You just proposed to me and agreed to pay for my master’s, and you thought I wanted to just cuddle? Ckckckck, you’re terrible at this,” Jiwoo expresses her disappointment. You want to defend yourself, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Sorry,” is all you can come up with. “No need, it’s not too late to make it right.”

Jiwoo plants her lips on yours again with different intentions this time. “Take me,” she whispers to you, “take me just like you usually do.” “How bad do you want it?” You’ve now gotten yourself together and are in the correct head space for this. She starts humping your thigh, letting you know how wet she is down there. “C-can’t you tell, oppa?” “I think I can,” you giggle, “let’s start, shall we?”

Yes, we shall. You roll until your fiancé is lying on her back, and her beauty instantly catches your attention. “My God, you’re so beautiful, love. Who am I to be so lucky to be with you?” Your words satisfy her, as shown by her precious smile on her face and her soft hands on yours. “Who am I to be so lucky to be engaged to you, oppa?” You ask if you can show her how much you love her. “Show me, oppa, and I’ll do the same,” she says.

You put your lips on her neck, nibbling and sucking until it’s marked with your love. “Oh, yes, please keep going,” Jiwoo eggs you on. “You’re mine, baby, and I’m yours—forever,” you whisper to her, giving her goosebumps. “I’m yours, oppa, and you’re mine,” she replies. “Please take me already—I can’t wait any longer.” You chuckle. “One second, baby; let me finish marking you first.”

You’ve sucked and nibbled for a few more minutes now, and when you pull away to inspect your work, you see a decently sized dark circle on the side of her neck. “Now everyone knows you’re mine.” You straighten your back, and that’s when Jiwoo asks you to “put it in.” Obviously, you know what it means, but it doesn’t hurt to tease her just a tad more. “Put what in, baby?” Your fiancé takes a deep breath, annoyed and impatient. “Your junior,” she says, “put it in me.”

You move towards her legs that are still covered by her mini shorts. When you grab the waistband, Jiwoo places her hands over yours. “Yes, baby?” You ask in case she wants to change her mind.

“Let’s make some promises before we start, oppa.”

“Sure, baby. What is it?”

“Promise me that you’ll pay for my tuition.”

“We’ve talked about it before, but yes, I promise.”

“Promise me that you’ll love me forever and never leave me for anyone else.”

“I promise.”

“Lastly, promise me that you’ll call me love—you know, since we’re getting married.”

“I promise, love.”

“Great,” she smiles, “now we can start.”

With her consent, you pull down her shorts down her legs and past her ankles. Oh, look at that: there’s a big wet spot on her panties—how cute. You free yourself of your work clothes, and while you do that, Jiwoo frees her tits from its constraints. “Respectfully, you look very, very hot, love,” you say, drooling as you do. “And all of me is yours, oppa,” she replies, “my lips, my breasts, my vagina—everything.” “That’s certainly one way to put it,” you think to yourself.

You hold your cock in one hand, and without struggling too much, you ease your way into her warm and wet core. “T-took you long enough,” Jiwoo quips, “oh, yes, that’s good, oppa.” You wrap your arms around her body, and in response, she wraps her limbs around yours, locking you in place to make sure she has maximum physical contact. She proceeds to let out moans right into your ear, showing you how much she’s enjoying this. “I love you, baby—fuck, I love you so much,” you whisper. “W-wrong pet name,” she still has the head space to say such thing.

“I’m about to burst, oppa,” she says, “please—oh, God—please, oppa.” You notice that her embrace is getting loose, so you take advantage of it and straighten your posture, thus allowing you to deliver better thrusts. “Go on, baby,” you urge her, “burst for your fiancé.” Obviously, words aren’t enough; you need to keep up the tempo to be able to send her flying across the finish line.

Jiwoo’s moans become louder as she inches closer towards orgasm—she’s also squirming around. You grit your teeth when you feel her insides squeezing your shaft. “Come on, love; cum for me.” You turn up the pace to the highest you can possibly do while making sure you’re hitting her deepest points. You pull out just in time as she screams from the top of her lungs, her thighs trembling from the hard-hitting orgasm.

Amidst her moans and pants, Jiwoo manages to ask you to hold her, so you do just that, enveloping her with your arms. “That’s good, love,” you praise her, “you’re so good at this.” “Th-thank you,” she replies with heavy breaths. You pamper her with endless sweet words while waiting for her to calm down; among them is, “I love you and will spend the rest of my life with you.” She can’t string together a proper reply just yet, but that’s fine; you’re certain that the message is well received.

Her pants have died down after a few minutes, and when you check on her, you see that she’s fallen asleep. “How cute,” you pinch her cheek lightly, “well, good night, love.” Without letting go, you roll over so that she’s lying square on your body and close your eyes.

During your sleep, you’re shown a dream. One where Jiwoo is on her knees while moving her mouth up and down along your length. You put a hand on the back of her head, assisting her in making sure that her hair doesn’t get in the way. “That’s good, love—that’s very good,” a praise freely escapes your lips, just like usual. Your praise excites Jiwoo, making her bob her head faster. Unfortunately for you, you’re starting to lose your grip on the scene, seeing it slowly fade away to be replaced with a different one.

At least that’s what it seemed like was about to happen. Instead, your brain wakes you up. “Wait, I know this feeling,” you say in your head. Your eyes roam downwards as you try to get a grip on the situation around you. “Love? What are you doing?” “What do you mean what am I doing? What does it look like, oppa?” Well, it looks like she’s stroking your cock, kissing your tip occasionally. “I thought you wouldn’t wake up,” she says.

You tell her that you saw her sucking you off in your dream. “I mean, I was sucking you off in your sleep,” she reveals. “So that was a mix of dream and reality, wasn’t it, love?” Jiwoo laughs. “Even in your dream, you can tell that I’m touching you.”

Jiwoo asks you to sit, so you sit and lean against the headrest. She then crawls between your spread legs and takes you deep in her mouth. Just like you did in your dream, you place a hand on the back of her head, petting her gently as you do. “That’s so damn good, love,” a praise freely escapes your lips, just like usual, and as per usual, it excites Jiwoo. You can feel her moving along your shaft faster, pushing through the gag reflex. “Fuck, you’re going to make me bust,” you say the first thing that comes to mind.

You’re ready to send your load straight into her stomach; your cock is throbbing and cum is pooling on your tip, and—ah, fuck, she removes you from her mouth. “No, no, no,” she wiggles her finger in front of you, “you don’t get to cum in my mouth anymore; I’m your fiancé, not your girlfriend.” Your racing heart doesn’t allow you to come up with a reply, but that’s okay with Jiwoo.

She turns her back against you and move backwards until her entrance is hovering right over your tip. “From this point onwards, you can only cum in my pussy—is that understood, my dear fiancé?” “Yes, love, I understand.” Happy with your answer, she lowers herself until you’re fully inside her. “Oh, fuck,” she lets out a gasp, “fuck, fuck, fuck!” She starts fucking herself on your cock, her hands and knees serving as stabilizers. You lean back and admire the way her hourglass figure looks from behind.

“I-I thought you—oh my God—I thought you were close, oppa?” “I am,” you admit, “I’m about to bust any second now.” Hearing such an answer invigorates Jiwoo, giving her the push she needs to keep going until you cum.

With a profanity, you send your load deep inside her, and Jiwoo plants her butt on your crotch so that nothing leaks out. The warmth of your ejaculation makes her let out a very long moan. “Do you want to be a dad?” “No, love, not yet,” you reply between your heavy pants. “Then you’ll need to buy me some pills—we’ve run out of them.” “We’ll get some later before we leave for work, love.”

That’s one question answered, and it’s time to address the other one: how can you prevent her from making a mess on the bed? “Just carry me reversed like this to the bathroom and pull out there,” she suggests. You gather the strength in your legs and stand up. “Hehehe,” you let out a suspicious laugh, “come to think of it, we’ve never had sex while standing up.” “Let’s not—oh, fuck—let’s not get ideas now, oppa; I don’t have the energy for more.”

You arrive at the bedroom with no accident, which means you can now “safely” pull out of her hot core. “Fuck, that’s a lot,” you comment. “That’s just how much you love me,” she giggles, “so what do we do now?” You don’t know what time it is (because there’s no clock in the bathroom, obviously), but you guess that it’s probably best to quickly clean up and go back to sleep soon.

You’re back in bed with your fiancé after quickly cleaning up. Jiwoo puts her right hand in the air and inspects the ring (despite the darkness of the room). “When did you buy this, oppa?” You reveal to her that Harvey bought it for you when you went out with him and Yooyeon. Jiwoo bursts out laughing. “I bet you were sweating bullets when you saw me walking in with Soodam-unnie—you thought the surprise was ruined.” “You have no idea, love,” you chuckle, “well, at least it all worked out in the end.”

“I love you, oppa,” she says, seemingly out of nowhere. “I will be the best person I can be for you—for us.”

“Certainly, love. I will be the best person I can be for you as well, because you deserve the best of me.”

“Sounds like we have a good future,” she says, “well, let’s go back to sleep now—good night. I love you.”

“I love you more—way more than simple words can express.”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut #nmixx smut

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soulrph · 1 year

Text

chaotic unhinged lines from 2022-2023 (prompt edition).

basically in 2021 i made a list of prompts inspired by lines in tiktok videos and instagram reels that made me laugh so hard i cried! and now i have returned with another list! these may provide an alarmingly clear image of what my sense of humor is (aka broken) but i figure a little levity is always a good thing! more prompts are forthcoming, but in the mean time: bon appetit!

knowledge has always chased you, but you've always been faster.

no... no, that was mango apathy juice. from the farmer's market.

of all these people, you are the one i understand the least. i want to get to know you better, but like, not that much better.

i-i will CHEW YOUR MEAT!! WHAT are you doing?!

ooooh god, no, you wouldn't be long getting frostbit!

you are evil. like a hobbit.

WHY MUST YOU FAIL ME SO OFTEN?!?!!?

i have had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn't it.

AHEM!! fill my cup.

may god ignore you like you ignored my greetings.

i will avenge you mister van gogh.

call off work bestie, we need you to solve a murder. here's fifteen dollars.

you're not in love. you may think you are, you dumb fuck, but you're not.

go ahead and put the ranch away.

sadly, "hopefully" doth butter no parsnips.

forget school, i want to be an italian sandwich.

you shouldn't skip work, you are a lawyer and he is a hamster.

you can stop roleplaying now. you're free.

her coupon game was so fucking raw.

i'm sorry guys... he's making a salad.

you could get a straight guy here if you learned to make a good pasta. i'll teach you how to make a risotto that'll get you married and out of my basement.

hey, do you want me to get together a plate of roast beef and hide it in our room so we can have night meats?

it's not the most ethical thing in the world, but in a pinch you can hand off a cursed object to basically any baby.

no, children, you're wrong. once upon a time, there was a piece of wood.

and i'm not saying she deserved it, but i am saying that god's timing is always riiiiight.

hydrate or die-drate, ya DICK!

why did the monkey fall out of the tree? because it was DEAD.

new york city is a fictional place written up by someone with a sinister mind and a knack for comedy.

this is grindr my guy.

wait, i didn't finish teaching you the difference between human and wolf anatomy.

it's time to tell your grandmother that she was wrong. do not be afraid.

vanilla vodka... you fucking child.

without ash to rise from, a phoenix would just be a bird getting up.

you are fucking alive. do what you want.

why are you cradling me like a baby, friend? this isn't how guys of my generation hang out.

i hope a hedgehog shits in your cereal, you difficult person.

you know, i am not as mean as i would like to be. and i think people should appreciate that more.

see, i am not a kangaroo.

well, i'd like to help, but... you see... not as much as i'd like not to.

rest in peace you fucking onion fairy.

when god sings with all his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

i fight for a seat in heaven, every. single. day.

map maker? can you find me somewhere on the map where this big man thinks he's the king?

you bald-headed demon...

so... there are 24 million pigs in australia... and 24 million people... so if you ever feel lonely, there's like, a pig out there that's sort of your cosmic twin.

remember, alcohol is god's apology for making us self-aware.

i'm straight!! stop CONFUSING me!!!!!

you guys want something to eat? because... i know we'll die if we don't eat.

he is a BIBLICALLY gorgeous man. i wanna feed him grapes. i wanna fan him with the frond of a date palm from the forests of Lebanon. i wanna find the alabaster vial of perfume oil that one woman broke for jesus and comb it through his hair. like... he's stressing me OUT.

i'm not sad! i'm freaking HUNGRY!

maybe, if we wait a little bit longer, a fuck will fall into my hand, and i can give it to you.

it's not my fault you thought you lived in this IKEA.

let's leave my mother out of this.

jason may kill people but he's not bad enough to kick a dog.

i run for LUMP!

oh no, i'm all out of caring, baby!

you don't think it mcbe that way... but it mcdo.

what is this enticing bowl of white?

serious question, do his nipples sparkle?

what in the reese's peanut butter fuck is going on here?

if your parents don't buy it, stop loving them!

i just hope you know just how much you've decreased productivity today.

that was poetry at its FINEST.

and if you let that motherfucker shenan ONCE, you best believe they're gonna shenanIGAN!

may god bless the dinosaur that died to make the fossil fuel that was treated to become petrol in the car that took her mom to the hospital to give birth to her.

that's modern milk for ya. what a time to be alive.

you have attachment issues. please fix it.

remember when people had secrets? we should bring that back.

the moon landing was an elaborate marriage proposal.

i don't like the cobra chicken.

i didn't know eggs were this expensive? it's time to lay my own, i fear.

so you're saying the reason i don't have a girlfriend is because i'm not a big enough threat yet.

god gave him a top lip, that's why he's so powerful.

it's a common mistake, but frankenstein was actually the author.

i finally got a pocket-sized diary!!! also i don't get the concept of life.

if a beautiful woman disagrees with me, i will immediately change my view. i've no principles.

how did you all end up married to such boiled potatoes?

if so much as one tear drops from their eye... i will slap you back into your mum.

you are ringing a phone that does not like to be rung.

look how Dr. doofenschmirtz had a fucked up childhood but didn't project his trauma onto his teenage daughter. he projected it onto a platypus.

it is mathematically impossible for you to get a wedgie.

i'm breaking up with you. i love you, it's just... i don't think you could protect me from a mummy.

if you can't do fractions....... you will fucking die.

that's right; in the year 1791, all of our bottoms were killed in a Big Bottom Massacre.

people always assume i'm mean. like CAN you BELIEVE THAT CRAP?! like WHAT would make you think i'm MEAN?! I'M THE NICEST PERSON ON THE PLANET!

the chocolate milk is strikingly overpriced and at the same time very easy to steal; another of god's little tests.

someone's gotta tell the waiter that i ordered mashed 'taters and it sure as shit ain't gonna be me.

if i had a week i couldn't list all the reasons that wouldn't work.

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #writing prompts

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 2 months

Note

tdb boys taking care of pc as a cat? 🫢

Taking care of the purr-fect

After an accident in class the prefect turns in a cat for a day

Wc: 670

Note: I'm going to be honest, I just chose four off the top of my head jaja

Jin

He swears it's the one time he leaves his room for the week and somehow there is an intruder, a cute cat sleeping on his bed. He grabs you by the scruff and calls Thoma who hurriedly takes it from his hands and smooths its hair explaining the mess during class.

He rolls his eyes at the story of how the ghouls -surely vagastorm punks- asked you to help and you ended in the crossfire with a temporary shapeshifting potion, either way he grabs your back, now properly with a hand under your front paws and under your butt.

His family had a few cats, his dad allowed it if they were purebred as a status symbol, and his mom loved the fluffy things. Maybe that is why his usually soft spot turned softer.

Acting huffing and tsundere like lays down on the bed and lets you cuddle up to him, even covering you with his blankets without worrying much about hair sticking to it.

Every so often he texts things to Thoma ‘the cat is hungry, get them fish ‘jin, canned tuna isn't good for cats.’ ‘There's sushi tuna in the kitchen. Hurry’

The most spoiled cat for the day or so that you turned, ribbons as your collar so nobody mistakes you for a worker cat, cooked meat every meal, hair brushed every night -by thoma- and sleeping under many imported silk blankets.

Sho

There was a cat sleeping on Bonnie's seat and, somehow, she wasn't thrashing around for it to get out, quite opposite she seemed to be seeking out sunlight for you. It isn't until he gets closer and you wake up that he recognizes your eyes in the kitty's that he guessed it's you.

He is knocking down on Hyde's office asking about what happened to you and how long it's going to last, Hyde grabs you by the armpits and twists you around before throwing you back to Sho unworried and he guesstimates about a day or two.

He doesn't allow you inside his food truck because he respects food hygiene but you can sleep on the outside tables acting like a mascot, at first Subaru was quite open to touching you in this form until he saw your memories and figured it was you.

He now feeds two mouths, Bonnie and you, sorry Leo, your noodles will have to wait until he finishes the pulled pork bbq sandwich for Bonnie and your cat-friendly oil-free stir fry, die mad about it.

After one of the vagastorm students grabbed you to get you out of a spot on the couch and Sho dared him to meet him at the pit for that, after that nobody really touched you.

Yuri and Jiro

Some general students got called after the accident in class to check out the students who were well except a few scratches, they were called later when the students brought a cat claiming that it was the prefect.

Neither are very worried as it happened before but more interested in how similar your labwork would be to your human one so Yuri is drawing blood, doing ultrasounds to see if everything looks normal or similar to before (if you struggle to much because you are nervous or fear needles and try to scratch him he will make Jiro hold you as you claw at him. At least he doesn't hold it against you when you return to normal)

After that you can hang around mortkraken with a little note stuck on your fur saying ‘dr isami’s patient, do not feed’

Sorry if you like garlic, onions, chives or grapes, the same way they forbade chocolate for Lyca bc he is a wolf those foods aren't entering your mouth soon.

If Yuri is sitting down while writing or reading your test he allows you to lay on his lap and maybe he will rub your belly.

Jiro doesn't mind you climbing him so you can sit on his shoulders while he works and won't tell you anything. He asks teasingly if you wanted to be taller.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker jin #tokyo debunker sho #sho haizono #shohei haizono #jin kamurai #yuri isami #jiro kirisaki #tokyo debunker yuri #tokyo debunker Jiro

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doormatty3 · 4 months

Text

Onions and Orgasms (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You] Being in a relationship with Orm is interesting, to say the least—he’s loving, kind, and undoubtedly overwhelmed by human customs. To help him adapt, you often cook together, showing him human traditions through the joy of making delicious food, something you have both grown fond of. Typically, his lack of kitchen knowledge and skills isn’t a big issue, but you soon discover that some food items need more explanation than you initially anticipated. OR: You laugh about Orm’s horrible kitchen skills, and he shows you with what he *is* skilled.

Wordcount: 7,362

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal sex, fluff, smut, dirty talk, fingering, orgasm denial, anal fingering, oral sex

A/N: I don't know what it is about Orm that just doesn't let me go... I had to write another story about him (I know exactly what it is - it's Patrick Wilson)

This is set after my Ocean Eyes story—you don't need to have read it, though. The only thing you need to know is that Orm and Reader-Chan are in a happy relationship, and Orm—well, he isn't that good with surface dweller stuff, but he tries.

You know that Orm doesn't understand much about humans and their customs—you'd been living with the man for quite some time, and his antics are nothing new.

Though he tries and makes an effort for your sake, sometimes he even does it so well that you forget he is the former king of Atlantis. But other times, it is all too obvious that he is still a stranger to this world.

"Why must everything be cut into such small pieces, honey?" Orm asks, his tone filled with genuine curiosity as he concentrates on cutting vegetables. The two of you are cooking together, an activity that has become a cherished routine of your everyday life. It is in these quiet moments that Orm's sincere attempts to integrate into your world were most apparent. And not only did his efforts shine, but so did the love between you.

You look at him, a fond smile playing on your lips.

His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, and his unruly blond hair nearly reaches his nose now. His piercing blue eyes are focused on the small kitchen knife and the bell pepper he is meticulously slicing. The knife seems almost comically small in his large hands, and he grips it with such strength that you are surprised it hasn't broken yet.

It is somewhat amusing, considering how skilled he is with his trident compared to the struggle he faces just holding the knife properly.

"Because we're going to fry it, sweetheart," you explain gently, appreciating his efforts to learn. "Cutting the vegetables into smaller pieces helps them cook more evenly and quickly."

Orm nods slowly, processing the information. He glances at you, his expression a mix of determination and puzzlement. "Fry… that means to cook them in hot oil, right?"

"Exactly," you confirm, guiding him through the process. "It gives them a nice texture and flavour."

As he resumes cutting the bell pepper, pleased with your answer, you can't help but admire his dedication.

Orm, the fierce warrior who once ruled an underwater kingdom, now stands in your modest kitchen, struggling with the simple act of slicing vegetables. It is a testament to how much he cares about adapting to your world - about making a life with you.

You watch as he continues his task, his concentration unwavering.

Despite the awkwardness, there is just something endearing about his efforts. The way he holds the knife, the careful precision with which he makes each cut, and the slight furrow in his brow all speak of a man determined to master even the most mundane aspects of human life for the sake of the one he loves.

"You're doing great," you encourage, stepping closer to him. "Just a little more practice and you'll be a pro."

Orm glances up at you, and a small, sweet, appreciative smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

At that moment, you are once again mesmerised by how much you love him. The depth of your feelings seems to swell within you as if you are seeing him for the first time all over again. The love you feel for him is a constant, ever-growing force that never ceases to amaze you.

"Thank you," he says softly. "For being patient with me."

You reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. "We're in this together, Orm. Every step of the way."

He smiles brightly at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling like the smoothest water in sunlight before he returns his focus to slicing the last few pieces of bell pepper.

When he is done with the paprika, Orm hands you the bowl, his eyes meeting yours with a look of accomplishment. You take it from him with a grateful smile.

"Thanks," you say, putting the bowl away so you can use it for cooking later. "Can you cut the onions, love?" you ask, gesturing towards the small pile of onions on the counter.

His puzzled expression tells you he isn't sure which vegetable you mean, so you point at them and specify. "You have to peel them—the brown skin has to go. Then, dice the white part in small pieces."

Orm nods and grabs an onion, examining it closely before starting to peel. You watch as he works, his large hands moving slowly and carefully. It is kind of cute - the way he approaches this simple task with such determination.

He peels away the first layer, the dry, flaky skin falling away to reveal the smooth white beneath. As he begins to slice, his concentration deepens, his brows furrowing just as they had with the bell pepper.

After a few cuts, however, you hear him mutter a curse under his breath. Glancing over, you see him blinking rapidly, his eyes beginning to water.

Orm wipes his arm over his eyes, confusion etched on his face. "Why do my eyes hurt?" he asks, blinking more frequently now. Before you can warn him, he uses the same hand he had just cut the onion with to rub his eyes.

"Orm, no—" you start, but it is too late.

His eyes widen in pain, and he quickly withdraws his hand, the irritation clearly intensifying. Tears stream down his cheeks, not from emotion but from the sharp sting of the onions.

"Why… why am I crying?" he asks, bewildered, as he tries to blink away the tears. He brings his hand up again, clearly frustrated, and you quickly grab his arm to stop him.

"Sweetheart, you're making it worse," you say, unable to help the laugh that bubbles up. "Let me help you."

You grab a piece of tissue paper and go to the sink to dampen it. Then you dab it over his eyes, gently cleaning his hands as well.

He grumbles, clearly in a bad mood from the sting and the tears, and you can't help but laugh again. "The mighty Orm, taken down by a humble onion," you tease lightly.

Orm's expression darkens slightly, a mix of frustration and embarrassment, his brows knitting together in a grumpy frown. "This is ridiculous," he mutters, his pride clearly stung, but your laughter only intensifies.

Acting a bit condescending, you pat his cheek. "It's okay, sweetie. Onions can be tricky. Maybe next time I'll handle them - we'll find another battle for the fine Atlantean warrior."

His eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something deeper. Before you can react, he roughly presses you against the counter, his grip firm but not painful.

Orm's lips crash down on yours in a heated, possessive kiss. You gasp in surprise but quickly melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to rest on his broad chest.

When he finally pulls back a bit, his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark with unresolved tension. "Don't mock me," he says, his voice low and husky.

You look up at him, breathless and a little dazed from the unexpected kiss. "I wasn't—" you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

"You think this is funny?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl as he interrupts you. "I may not be skilled in the kitchen, but I'm skilled in getting you off."

Before you can respond or comprehend what he said, he kisses you again roughly, his hands roaming your body with a fervour that makes your heart race. You bury your hands in his blond hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.

It is intense and devouring.

You feel his tongue against yours, the insistent pressure of his lips sending shivers down your spine. Orm's kiss is demanding, almost punishing, and you meet it with equal passion, losing yourself in the moment. The sensation of his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body, is intoxicating. You cling to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the world blur around you.

His tongue teases and explores, sending waves of heat coursing through your body. You moan into his mouth, the sound muffled by his relentless assault. He growls in response, the vibration travelling through you and making you tremble.

Orm's hands slide down your back, gripping your waist with a possessive strength that leaves you breathless. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you against him, the hardness of his body pressing into your softness. His tongue explores your mouth with an urgency that makes your knees weak, and you moan into the kiss again, your body responding eagerly to his touch as you clench your thighs, feeling yourself growing wet.

When Orm finally pulls back, his eyes are smouldering with renewed intensity. He doesn't move away from you; instead, he tightens his grip on your waist again, pressing you firmly against the counter. The heat of his body radiates through your clothes, and you can feel the raw power in his muscles as he holds you there, trapped between the cool surface of the counter and him.

"You drive me crazy," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roam over your sides, tracing the curves of your body with a possessive hunger. "You laugh at me, but you have no idea what you do to me."

You shiver at his words, a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "Orm…" you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He silences you with another kiss, rough and demanding. His tongue explores your mouth with an urgency that causes your eyes to flutter closed as you respond eagerly, your hands clutching at his hair, his shoulders, anything to ground yourself in the whirlwind of sensation.

Orm's hands move with a new purpose, sliding under your shirt to caress the bare skin beneath. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explores every inch of you. His fingers trace patterns over your back and sides, each touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He tugs at your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it aside, exposing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, his hands roaming over your now exposed breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples.

The sensation is almost too much, and you arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as you respond in kind, moving your hands from his hair over his broad shoulders and biceps, feeling the strong muscles beneath his clothes.

He lifts you onto the counter with ease, his powerful hands gripping your waist firmly as he keeps his lips connected to yours.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to look at you for a second before his mouth descends on your neck.

He kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. His touch is both tender and demanding, a combination that leaves you aching for more. His breath is hot and tantalising, making you let out a breathy moan as your hands come up to touch his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin.

"You drive me wild," he murmurs against your neck, his voice a husky growl.

His hands move to your breasts, teasing them with a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

His fingers expertly trace circles around your nipples, each caress making them harden under his touch. You gasp, arching into him, your body responding eagerly to his ministrations, and you feel your pussy growing wet as arousal pulses through your veins. He growls appreciatively, his mouth moving lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your chest.

"Orm," you breathe, your voice a mixture of frustration and need.

He smiles against your skin, his lips trailing down to your chest. "You think it's funny to laugh at me, don't you?" he murmurs, his mouth closing over one nipple. He sucks gently, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, drawing a moan from your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

A whimper escapes you as he switches tactics, using his teeth to graze over your flesh with a delicious roughness, sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins and making your clit throb. But then, just as quickly, he soothes the ache with a soothing stroke of his tongue, leaving you trembling with desire.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands as you pull him closer, unable to contain the overwhelming need for him. "I'm sorry," you manage to gasp between ragged breaths, though your words are lost in the haze of pleasure.

"I'm not," he growls, lifting his head to look at you, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desire. "You drive me mad."

He switches to the other breast, his mouth and hands working together to drive you wild as he sucks and nibbles on your sensitive nipple and kneads your tit with his hand. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation that makes you tremble. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your need for him growing with each passing second, slick against your underwear.

"You're mine," he whispers, his voice filled with a possessive intensity that makes your heart race. "All mine."

With that, he captures your lips in another searing kiss, his hands moving down to your waist, leaving your breasts aching as the cool air hits your wet, hard nipples. It's deep and consuming, a mix of hunger and tenderness that leaves you breathless and makes you moan into his mouth again.

You cling to him, your fingers tangling in his blond hair, pulling at the thick strands to drag him even closer as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

Orm's fingers trail over your thighs, his touch light and teasing, driving you wild with anticipation. He spreads your legs wider, his eyes dark and predatory and a smirk on his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

"Orm, please," you whisper, your voice a desperate plea.

He smiles, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Patience," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, sending waves of pleasure through you. "I want to savour this."

His hands roam over your thighs again, caressing and teasing, driving you to the brink of madness as his long fingers draw intricate patterns through the fabric of your clothes. Each touch is electric, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His fingers dance closer and closer to your cunt, but he never quite touches you where you need him most.

You can't help but whimper, the sound a mix of frustration and desire.

There's a part of you that wishes you hadn't teased him so mercilessly about his lack of knowledge of cutting onions and kitchen skills in general. You know he's going to drag this out, making you suffer and beg instead of just giving you what you want.

Orm spreads your legs further, positioning himself between them. His large, calloused hands cup your face tenderly, guiding your gaze to meet his. You lift your hand to touch his stubbly cheek, running your thumb over it, and gaze into his blue eyes that are now dark and reflecting desire.

He closes his eyes, his impossibly long lashes resting against his cheeks as he lets out a sigh. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. The sweet gesture makes your heart flutter in your chest, your love for him threatening to spill out.

"I love you," he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten with emotion.

"I love you too," you whisper back, your voice trembling with the weight of your feelings.

Orm's hands move from your face, trailing down your neck, over your shoulders, and coming to rest on your breasts again. He squeezes them gently, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

He kisses you again, deeply and passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. Every stroke of his tongue, every brush of his lips, is filled with an intense desire that makes your head spin. It's intoxicating, making you dizzy with want.

You feel his hard cock straining against his pants as he presses himself against you, making you whine with need. The pressure against your cunt is maddening, and you're sure you're wet enough to leave a spot on his pants, were you naked.

Orm's hands move with a deliberate slowness, heightening your anticipation.

He chuckles softly at your response, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through your body. Pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes, his hands begin their journey lower, gliding over your stomach until they reach the waistband of your pants.

He pulls them down slowly and with agonising patience, taking his time, his eyes never leaving yours. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, your body aching for his touch. Every inch of skin he reveals feels hypersensitive, exposed to the cool air and the heat of his stare.

Orm's smirk deepens as he slides your pants down, leaving you in just your underwear. His fingers continue their torturous teasing over the fabric, pressing and rubbing in just the right way to drive you wild. Your hips buck against his hand, seeking more friction, more contact, more anything , but he holds you steady, keeping control as you soak your panties even more.

"Do you like this?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "Do you like being teased ?"

You shake your head, unable to form words, your body writhing with need.

He finally slips his fingers beneath the fabric, touching your cunt directly, and the sensation is almost too much. You cry out, your back arching as his thumb finds your clit with practised ease and drags the rough pad over it in circles, finding a slow and perfect rhythm.

"You're perfect," he whispers, his voice filled with awe and adoration as he slows his movements even more before halting completely and pulling his hand from under your panties, making you whimper in protest.

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, but before you can say anything and protest properly, his hands are on you again, his fingers trailing over your thighs, spreading your legs wider. He leans in, his mouth hovering just above your skin, his breath hot and teasing.

He starts to kiss his way up your inner thigh, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through you, and you slump back onto the counter, keeping yourself upright by your arms.

His lips are soft and warm, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste your skin. The sensation is exquisite, making you squirm with need.

"Orm, please," you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I need you."

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of mischief. "Patience," he murmurs, his voice a deep, velvety growl. "I want to savour this."

He continues his slow, torturous journey up your thigh, his mouth finally reaching the apex. He pauses there, taking a moment to breathe in your scent, his hot breath ghosting over your panties and sending shivers down your spine.

Then he begins to kiss you through the thin fabric of your underwear, his tongue flicking over the damp cloth, tasting you in the most maddeningly indirect way possible. When his tongue finally presses against your neglected, throbbing clit, even through the fabric, you gasp loudly, your back arching off the counter.

His groan of appreciation reverberates through your pussy, sending vibrations that intensify the pleasure to dizzying heights. You can feel the heat of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue seeping through your panties, creating a delicious friction that has you moaning his name.

Desperate for more, you grip his hair tightly, your fingers tangling in the blond strands as you try to pull him closer and prevent him from stopping. But Orm maintains his torturous pace, teasing you mercilessly.

"Please," you plead, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need more."

He grins against you, the vibration of his laughter sending shivers through your body. "As you wish," he says, his voice low and husky.

Orm pulls back slightly, prompting a whine of protest from you as you tighten your grip on his hair, too caught up in the haze of arousal to grasp why he wants to pull back.

"Honey, you need to let me move a bit to take off your underwear," he says, his tone affectionate yet teasing.

Blushing furiously, you release your tight hold on his hair, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and desire flood through you. His gaze meets yours, his eyes dark with need and amusement.

"My needy girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire.

Before you can respond, he leans in quickly, capturing your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, his tongue exploring every inch with a fervour that leaves you breathless. The taste of him is intoxicating, filling your senses and leaving you craving more.

When he pulls back and settles between your legs again, you're dazed - by the pleasure he's providing and his closeness. It is as if you can never get enough of him.

With a deft movement, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and slowly slides them down your legs. He pauses for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze is intense, filled with a mix of love and desire that makes your heart race.

Orm leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, moving closer to your now bare cunt. He looks up at you, his eyes locking with yours, as he leans in, his breath hot against your most sensitive area.

His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you in place. "I'm going to give you something to laugh about," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on you.

This time, there is no barrier between you.

The first touch of his tongue is like a shock of electricity, making you gasp and clutch at the edge of the counter, your fingers curling around the edge as you brace yourself for the onslaught of sensation.

He licks a long, slow path up your slit, savouring your taste with a low, appreciative groan. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking and teasing with a skill that has you moaning. He alternates between gentle licks and firm strokes, driving you to the brink of madness.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands as you pull him closer and try to ground yourself. He hums against you, the vibration sending shivers of pleasure through your entire body.

His mouth works in perfect harmony with his hands, his fingers parting your slick cunt to give him better access to your most sensitive spots.

He plunges his tongue inside you, tasting and exploring your pussy with a fervour that makes you moan loudly. He moves with a rhythm that is both precise and unpredictable, keeping you on edge, never knowing what to expect next. Each movement, each flick of his tongue, brings you closer and closer.

Just as you feel the orgasm building, he pulls back, denying you the release you crave. The sensation is exquisite torture, leaving you gasping and trembling with need. He watches you, his blue eyes dark and intense, enjoying the sight of you teetering on the edge.

"Orm, please," you beg, your voice a desperate plea. "I need to cum."

He lifts his head just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal and his blue eyes dark. "Not yet," he says, his voice a low growl. "I want to hear you beg some more."

With that, he slips two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. The dual sensation is almost too much to bear. You writhe against him, your body on fire with need. Every nerve ending is alive, screaming for release.

But he isn't done.

His free hand trails down, his finger thick and calloused, pressing gently against the tight ring of your ass, the sensation foreign and electrifying.

You tense instinctively, unsure of what to expect, but the gentle pressure of his touch is surprisingly comforting as he explores your puckered hole for the first time.

He circles the entrance slowly, teasingly, his movements deliberate and controlled. Each touch sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, the unfamiliar sensation stirring something deep inside you.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmurs, his voice husky with need.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, a mixture of anticipation and excitement flooding your senses. You cling to him, your nails digging into his skin as you surrender to the pleasure of his touch.

Orm's fingers press against the tight entrance, the sensation foreign yet undeniably arousing. He moves slowly, carefully, easing his finger past the resistance with a gentleness that belies the intensity of his desire, making you gasp as a mixture of pleasure and discomfort floods your senses.

"Relax, honey," he whispers, his breath hot against your cunt. "I'll take care of you."

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation as he continues to explore you, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. "Orm," you gasp, unable to form coherent words as pleasure washes over you in waves.

Orm eases his finger deeper inside you. The stretch is intense, the feeling of being filled in a way you've never experienced before, both overwhelming and exhilarating.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's it, honey," he murmurs, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Let go, and let me take care of you."

You moan in response as you adjust to the feeling.

You can feel every ridge and contour of his finger within you, the sensation, unlike anything you've ever felt before. As he begins to move his finger in and out, the feeling builds, pleasure mingling with the slight sting of discomfort until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

The sensation of being filled in both holes at once is overwhelming, desire flooding your senses as he sets a rhythm that drives you wild with need.

Orm's voice is a husky growl as he speaks, his words sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. "You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "You like feeling my fingers in your tight little ass."

You whimper in response, your mind clouded by desire and undeniably overwhelmed by everything he's doing to you. His fingers move within you, stretching and filling you in a way that leaves you gasping for breath.

Orm's touch is possessive, almost primal, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. "You're so fucking tight," he groans, his voice thick with desire. "Someday, I'll take you there too."

His words send a jolt of heat straight to your cunt, the idea of him taking you in your ass sending waves of desire crashing over you as you clench around his fingers.

"You enjoy that?" he growls, his voice low and guttural. "You enjoy being filled up like this, don't you, honey? Having both your holes stuffed?"

His dirty talk only serves to heighten your arousal, the words sending flashes of pure, hot want through your body as he works you with his fingers and mouth. You cling to him, your nails digging into his skin as you ride the wave of sensation, your body writhing with need.

Orm is relentless, his fingers moving with a skill and precision that leaves you breathless. You can feel the tension building inside you, a coil wound so tightly it's about to snap.

The combination is almost unbearable. Your body feels like it's on fire, each touch and movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"Please, Orm," you whimper, your voice breaking. "I can't take it."

He grins against you, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he pulls back slightly, his fingers still working in and out of you, the sound of your wet pussy loud and obvious. "Not yet, sweetheart," he says, his voice a dark promise. "You can, and you will take it,"

His fingers in your cunt curl just right , pressing against your G-spot while his thumb continues its torturous circles over your clit, causing you to clench and whimper.

Meanwhile, the finger in your ass moves in and out, the tightness around it making Orm groan with satisfaction. "You're so tight here," he mutters, his voice filled with dark pleasure. "I love feeling you like this…And I think you need more to clench on."

Orm adds a second finger to your ass, stretching you slightly, the sensation both foreign and thrilling and even more intense than before.

He pumps his fingers in and out of both your ass and pussy, curling them to hit just the right spots while his tongue flicks over your clit with maddening precision. The pressure builds inside you, each touch bringing you closer to the edge, but he pulls back just before you can tumble over, denying you the release you crave driving you wild with frustration.

Your entire body is a tight coil of tension, every nerve ending on fire as he denies you your release again and again. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and you cling to him, your nails digging into his scalp as you try to pull him closer, but he keeps control, maintaining that perfect, maddening rhythm.

"Please, Orm," you sob, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes, your clit throbs almost painfully, and you feel your cunt twitching around him - you feel ready to snap.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Beg for it," he commands, his voice a rough whisper.

"I beg you," you cry, your voice hoarse with need. "Please, let me cum. I need it. I need you ."

Orm's expression softens just a fraction, and he increases the pressure, his mouth and fingers working together to bring you to the brink once more, driving you higher and higher until you finally explode.

This time, he doesn't pull back.

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, and you scream his name as you finally find your release, your voice raw and hoarse with need. Your body convulses, every muscle tightening as the orgasm rips through you.

But Orm doesn't stop, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, prolonging your orgasm until you're shaking and breathless. He flicks his tongue rapidly over your clit while curling his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again.

The pleasure is almost too intense, your body shuddering as another orgasm builds, crashing over you in powerful waves before you've come down from your previous high.

Your vision blurs, your mind slipping into a haze of ecstasy as your senses are overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

Your legs tremble, and you clutch desperately at the counter, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Orm, oh God," you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your release.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over.

You collapse against the counter, your body spent and trembling with the aftershocks of your earth-shattering climax. The world swims hazily before your eyes as you struggle to catch your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

The overwhelming intensity of your orgasm leaves you disoriented, and before you can fully comprehend the moment, everything goes dark, and you black out.

When you come back to your senses, you find yourself cradled in Orm's arms, his touch gentle and reassuring. His eyes, filled with love and concern, lock onto yours. He kisses your forehead softly, the warmth of his lips soothing and tender. "I love you," he murmurs, his voice low and full of adoration.

"I love you too," you whisper back tiredly, still shaking from what happened. Your body still tingles with the aftershocks of your intense release, and you feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and love.

Orm cups your face with his large, warm hand, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looks into your eyes. Through the haze in your mind, you can't help but appreciate how his blue eyes sparkle with emotion and how wet his chin, cheeks, and neck are from pleasuring you.

"You okay, honey?" he asks, his voice low and gentle, filled with genuine concern as he checks in with you.

You nod and bite your lip, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. "Yes, sweetheart, I'm okay," you manage to say, your voice breathless and shaky.

Orm's thumb slides over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans in to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, the sensation causing you to clench around nothing and whine into the kiss.

The feeling of his residual wetness on your skin and the hardness of his cock pressing against your bare cunt only heightens your desire.

The fire in you, which had dimmed to a soft glimmer, now flares back with full fervour, threatening to consume you whole. Every touch, every breath, feels like it's adding fuel to the inferno raging within you.

When the kiss breaks, your hands move frantically to Orm's shirt. You tug at the fabric, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through your core and obliges you by pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

Your breath hitches as you take in the sight of him, his muscular chest and chiselled abs glistening slightly from the exertion. The light catches on his body, highlighting the hard lines and contours that speak of strength and power.

The prominent vein running down his biceps stands out starkly against his skin, leading your eyes down to the rest of his strong arm. You trace its path with your gaze, marvelling at the sheer strength contained within.

His pecs are firm and inviting, his nipples hardening slightly in the cool air, a contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His chest, broad and sculpted, rises and falls with his heavy breathing, the rhythm hypnotic and alluring.

Your eyes travel down to his abs, each ridge and valley inviting your touch, a landscape of desire that begs to be explored. The lines of them lead your gaze downward to where his hard dick strains against his pants, the sight making your pulse quicken and your mouth go dry with longing.

You can't help but run your hands over his firm muscles. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, a reminder of just how much you want him. His skin is warm and smooth under your touch, and you can feel the tension coiled in his body, ready to be unleashed.

"God, you're so hot," you murmur, your voice filled with awe and desire, your mind still hazy from the orgasm he gave you as the words slip out without thought.

He chuckles lowly at both your words and behaviour.

"You find this amusing?" you ask, breathless, as you trace the lines of his body with your fingers.

Orm's eyes darken with a mix of amusement and desire. "I find it amusing how needy you are," he says, his voice a low growl. "But I can't deny that I enjoy it. Don't think I have forgotten how you laughed at me with those onions."

He steps back slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of his pants. With a fluid motion, he pulls them down, followed by his underwear. His hard cock springs free, standing tall and proud and glistening with precum. The sight of him, fully naked and aroused, sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

You reach out, your fingers wrapping around his cock. Orm groans, his head falling back as you stroke him, his muscles tensing and rippling under your touch as you pump him a few times.

He opens his eyes, the intensity of his gaze piercing through you. "I need you," he murmurs his voice a low, gravelly whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

He leans in to kiss you again, his hands roaming over your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and dip.

His hands trail down from your face, caressing your neck and shoulders, before moving to your breasts. He teases your nipples, rolling them between his fingers and sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arch your back, pushing your breasts into his hands, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Orm," you murmur, your voice filled with need. "I want you."

He steps closer, positioning himself between your legs once more. His hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter. "Then you shall have me," he says, his voice rough with desire.

As he presses against you, you feel his thick, hard cock sliding against your cunt, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through you. He doesn't enter you yet; he just teases you, making you gasp and moan with each movement.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard," he growls into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're mine, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

You whimper in response, the anticipation driving you to the edge again. "Orm, please," you beg, your voice a desperate plea.

He chuckles darkly, a possessive gleam in his eyes. "I know, honey," he murmurs. He continues to tease you, his tip brushing against your slick folds, the sensation almost too much to bear. You moan, your hips bucking in response, desperate for more.

Finally, when you think you can't take it anymore, he positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours.

With a gentle yet firm push, he slides into you, stretching and filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, and your body arches into his, a mixture of pleasure and relief as he buries himself to the hilt, the fullness making you feel complete.

Orm pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving yours. "God, you feel amazing," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

He moves slowly at first, savouring the feel of you around him, each thrust measured and controlled.

His hands roam over your body, caressing your breasts, your waist, your thighs. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, making you arch and writhe against him. His fingers find your nipples, pinching and rolling them gently, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt, making you moan wantonly.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to move faster, his thrusts deep and powerful. The rhythm is intoxicating, a dance of passion and desire that leaves you breathless. His cock fills you completely, hitting all the right spots with each powerful thrust.

He leans down to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same fervour as his hips.

"You feel so good," he groans, his voice rough with pleasure, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. "So tight, so perfect." His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Orm," you moan, your voice a desperate plea. "I'm so close."

He smiles against your skin, his movements growing more urgent. "Not yet," he growls, his voice still carrying a hint of grumpiness.

He slows his thrusts, pulling back almost entirely so only his tip is inside your pussy before pushing back in with agonising slowness. The deliberate pace keeps you on the edge, your body begging for release. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, teasing circles that make you whimper.

"Sweetheart, please," you beg, your voice trembling with need. "I can't take it."

Your body trembles with the intensity of the sensations, each stroke of his cock pushing you closer to the edge. You can feel every inch of him, every vein, every ridge, and it's driving you wild. His touch is everywhere, his hands roaming over your body, caressing, squeezing, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

"Orm, oh God," you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need. "Please, let me cum."

His eyes lock onto yours, and he sees the desperation there.

His expression softens, and he increases the pressure, his thumb circling your clit more firmly while his other hand grips your hip, pulling you even closer. His thrusts become deeper, more powerful, each one sparking that fire inside you. The tension builds, a tight coil of need that threatens to fracture at any moment.

His hips start to snap against yours with a rhythm that is both demanding and precise, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. He leans down to kiss you again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his broad, muscular back as you meet each thrust with equal intensity. The feel of his bare skin against yours, the play of his defined muscles under your fingertips, adds to the intoxicating pleasure. His chest, hard and chiselled, presses against your breasts, the friction against your sensitive nipples like adding fuel to the fire in your veins.

You moan in response, your hips bucking against his as the pleasure builds higher and higher, an unstoppable crescendo. The slick friction of his cock inside you, the pressure of his pelvis and thumb against your clit with every thrust, drives you mad with desire.

His movements grow more urgent, his thrusts faster and harder. The sound of your bodies coming together, the slick heat of your arousal, fills the room.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, needing him closer. "Orm," you moan, your voice a desperate plea.

"Do it," he growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic, the control slipping as he nears his peak. "Cum for me, honey. Let me feel you." His words are a command and a plea, the urgency in his voice pushing you over the edge.

You scream his name as you shatter around him, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless once more. Your body convulses, every muscle tightening around him, your cunt gripping his cock in a vice-like hold that draws a guttural moan from deep within him.

Orm continues to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm and driving you to the edge of madness.

His movements become frantic, his rhythm breaking as he succumbs to his own release. He thrusts into you one last time, deep and hard, and you feel the hot, pulsating rush of his cum filling you. His body shudders, and he holds you close, his breath ragged and his heart pounding against yours, his head buried in your shoulder.

As the last tremors of pleasure fade, Orm pulls back slightly, his eyes softening as he looks at you. He looks utterly spent, his body drenched in sweat that glistens in the light, and his hair plastered to his forehead. You reach out to brush it from his eyes and cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face. He smiles at you, a sweet, loving smile that makes your heart flutter, before leaning forward and pressing a long, tender kiss to your forehead.

He pulls back and lifts you from the counter, cradling you in his arms. "Let's get you cleaned up," he murmurs, carrying you to the bathroom with a tenderness that makes your heart swell with love.

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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 10 months

Text

Sunny Side Up 🍳 James Hetfield (18+)

Using the knife to slide the remainder of the now chopped onions to the unoccupied side of the cutting board, you bite back a grin as you hear the familiar sound of shuffling feet make their way down the short hallway and pause behind you in the kitchen.

Rough, calloused palms find purchase on your bare thighs as you subtly inch your way backward and fully into his grasp, your hair brushing against the soft cotton of your boyfriend's sleepshirt.

"Remind me why I needed to get up so early again?" James asks out tiredly, his eyes squinting against the bright glare emanating off the side of the spatula, that rested against the now heated up pan in front of you.

"Because Cliff said he'll wring you in a new one if you're late again." You answer, the amusement clear in your voice as you rub the side of your cheek against his clothed collarbone.

Humming out and resting his head on top of yours, James smiles groggily as his fingers tug on the bottom hem of the t-shirt adorning your body. "And I'm supposed to be getting ready for rehearsal, meanwhile, you're out here in one of my shirts that barely covers your ass?"

A blush makes its way to your cheeks as you feel one of his hands release the side of your shirt and come up to caress the swell of your bottom.

"Doesn't seem that fair to me, now does it?" James rasps, as his thumb makes its way under the cotton and against your goosebump-ridden flesh. You let out a shuddering breath as the coolness of his rings dig into the sensitive skin of your hip, before jumping at the sound of the oil on the stove beginning to pop.

Reaching forward to quickly turn off the stove and remove the pan from the red-hot burner, you let out a yelp as your hips are yanked back and pressed flush against his. "How about you help wake me up real quick then, hm?" James asks as his morning wood pulses against your lower back in interest, and you gasp out from the feeling.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, baby. Kirk is just down the hall in the other room." You murmur out, before your lips gape open as his hand abandons your ass and cups your clothed sex instead.

"You know that man can sleep through the dead. Besides, you're telling me you don't want this? I can feel you getting wet. You're always so ready for me to spread you wide." Heat pools in your gut as your boyfriend's index finger glides against the now dampened material covering you, and you whimper out as he thrusts against your ass.

"I don't know if I can keep quiet." You whisper out against a moan, your legs starting to feel unsteady as his finger begins to tease your clit in a repetitive motion.

"I don't need you to be quiet, doll. I need you to let me take you against this counter and make you cum, fill you up with my seed. Need to feel those tight pussy walls sucking me in again before I go."

Clenching your thighs together as you feel yourself slicken with more arousal, you shakily nod your head and readily reach forward for the counter, your eyes closing in ecstasy at the stimulation.

Hastily pulling your soaked underwear down and gripping the cotton in a tight fist to the side, James groans out loud as you prop yourself up and arch your spine enticingly. Bending down to kick off his briefs and tug his shirt over his head, James lets his instincts take over as his mind glazes over with lust at the sight before him.

A chill runs down your spine as you feel your boyfriend's hand graze against your pert ass, before it raises and smacks against the bare skin, causing you to cry out loudly in the quiet apartment.

"Please, James. Don't make me wait." You plead out, the chill in the room causing the line of slick running down your thigh to cling and solidify. James licks his lips in hunger as he watches the handprint slowly appear on your reddening skin, before grabbing his hardened dick and aligning his hips to yours and thrusting forward. You both shakily exhale in unison as his cockhead rubs against your sopping clit, and you reach down to graze your thumb against it.

"Think I'm still nice and stretched out from last night, baby. Don't even have to finger me this time." You say into the frenzied air, your gut twisting as the hand gripping your waist tightens and you hear James curse out from behind you.

"Yeah? Think I can just slide into you and breed you full, nice and easy?" Pussy fluttering emptily and clit pulsating from his words alone, you gasp out a yes, before raising your hips and guiding his throbbing dick down to your entrance.

James lets out a sigh as he sinks into you, his balls raising and tightening as his cockhead rests against the opening of your cervix. Gritting his teeth as he feels your walls tighten around him, he forces himself not to move as your shoulders tense up below him.

"I think I'm gonna come." You cry out, embarrassment flooding you as your spine begins to straighten from the force it takes to hold your orgasm back.

James lets out a disbelieving laugh as he playfully shifts his hips forward, before grunting loudly as you spasm around him erratically. Slick-lines connect his hips to your behind as you tremor through your first release, your jaw clicking as it opens harshly and wide.

James clenches his eyes shut in restraint as he feels your cum drip down his ballsack and onto the tiled floor beneath him.

"Please, doll. Let me move, I'm fucking going crazy back here. Need to fuck you loose." He begs, causing you to flutter around him in agreeance, even though you were already on the edge of overstimulation.

"Fuck me nice and loose then, baby boy. Make me sore." You whine, before grasping onto the granite and screaming out as your hips are jostled forward with his newfound vigor.

Your vision begins to swim and white out as your boyfriend slams into you from behind, his grip on the shirt you wore now gone, causing the fabric to become soaked with your slick and his precum, as it pools around the front of your thighs and around his groin.

James tuts as holds you in place, your hips trying to push themselves away as he continuously finds your sponge-like gspot. "Nuh-uh, princess. Don't try and run from me. Fucking take it like you said you would." Moans tumble and spill out from in between his spit-slick lips as he fucks himself into you with reckless abandon and desperation, his abdomen clenching with the exertion.

Folding himself over you and reaching down to find your clit, James lets out a harsh breath and grazes his teeth against your neck as you constrict against him once again.

"Need you to cum for me one more time, sweetheart. Want you to soak this cock and help me fill this loose hole for me. Can you do that?" Heating up at the breathy and condescending tone of his voice, you go to answer, but seize up as his index and middle fingers harshly rub at your swollen sex.

"Too much, it's too much." Your scream out, your legs giving away as you tighten so much around James, he has to slow down.

Encircling his arms around you, James securely holds you up in place as he slowly begins to find his pace once again.

"You're doing so good for me, baby. So, fucking good. Just give me one more." He whispers out against your neck placatingly, stomach beginning to tighten as he feels his orgasm approaching.

Head lolling forward and pussy walls contracting once again, you allow yourself to fully let go as your orgasm punches its way through you. Unable to make any sound from the force of it, you instead go limp in your boyfriend's arms and allow him to use you.

"Gonna breed you so well, baby. You're gonna swell from it, taking me like a good girl." James tightens his arms around you as he harshly slaps his hips against yours, before freezing in place. Euphoric bliss sweeps through him as his ballsack jostles upward and he fills you to the brim with his seed.

Shakily placing you back onto the ground, he carefully turns you around and bends down to place a delicate kiss to your swollen and bitten lips.

"Still with me, angel?" He asks you gently, his eyes taking in your flushed skin and gone expression.

Nodding numbly and wrapping your arms around his neck for stability, your lips stretch into an exhausted smile as he rubs gentle circles into your now sore, lower back.

"How about I make some breakfast for you instead, yeah? How do you want your eggs?" James murmurs to you as he lowers you into the nearest kitchen chair.

"Sunny side up, please." You answer him shakily, before you pause as a door opens at the end of the hall.

James' eyes widen and his lips split into a grin as his roommate and bandmate comes into view, his curls an arrayed mess and pressed against his indented forehead.

"What the hell was all of that noise?" Kirk asks, blindly making his way to sit beside you. Tensing your legs as you feel cum slowly seep out from inside of you and pool around your still shaking thighs, you instead opt out of answering and close your eyes in mortification.

Turning around to place the pan back onto the burner and turn on the stove, James huffs out a laugh under his breath and readjusts his shirt back into place.

"No idea what you're talking about, man. Anyway, how do you want your eggs?" Peeking over his shoulder, he sends you a cheeky glance. "Sunny side up?"

#metallica #metallica imagines #metallica smut #metallica x reader #james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader

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thefangirlfever · 11 months

Text

A new beginning (a Miguel O'hara NSFW story)

Summary: Miguel and you are married for more than a year and life has been kinda hectic with all your work. One day he comes home and after seeing Peter B. Parker with Mayday all day, Miguel has only one thing in his mind… Getting you pregnant.

Reader is not a spider-woman for once.

Content warning: smut (18+, MDNI), poor Spanish

Tags: smut, F/M, piv penetration, breast play, mention of pregnancy, married couple, oral sex (m. receiving), that sweet domestic life, breeding kink, reader doesn’t shave (it’s not a kink, we need to normalize body hair on women), angst (if you squint really hard. It’s mostly self-indulgent smut)

=======

The drizzling sound of oil in a pan filled the kitchen as you started cutting green onions and peppers. You were roaming the kitchen with no care in the world, finally letting all the tension you had accumulated this week leave your shoulders. You’ve had accumulated more shifts than it was necessary at the hospital you were working for, you still had to settle a few things about the new apartment and of course, there was the usual worry about Miguel going on missions as Spider-man and risking his life. Even if you had accepted his role as a super-hero years ago, you still had trouble not worrying when he was home late or when he would come back, covered in bruises and cuts, arguing that “It was just a routine mission.”

You checked the clock on the kitchen’s wall as a reflex. 9 pm. You couldn’t hold a sigh. After all you were no one to blame him for coming home late; you had your fair share of shifts that could last 24 hours, even a whole week-end sometimes. The only thing helping you come through this moment, except the fact that you could see people leaving the dispensary free of their worries, was knowing that Miguel was waiting for you at home. After these shifts, it was almost impossible for both of you to not cling into one another. You would spend the next day, cuddling in your bed, on the couch, letting him massaging you, cooking for the both of you… and when you were extra lucky, you were doing more than just cuddling. You would let Miguel dumb fuck you until you almost forgot your name and start seeing stars.

Just when you were lost in these thoughts, you heard the front door opening and soon Miguel was standing in the frame of the kitchen door. No cut, no wound, no bruise. Today was a good day and you smiled at him, but his gaze told you something was off. Your smile slowly faded away as you asked him about his day:

“Did something happen, Miguel?”

He tried to brush it off as he approached you, hugging you from behind. His chin was resting on top of your head. He smelled the scent of vegetables frying in the pan, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t worry you.

“No, the usual. We just had a meeting that lasted a little longer than what we anticipated. That’s all. How was your day?”

You were not fully satisfied with his answer. You knew him. It was clear something was bugging him off. You still decided to wait a little before asking more questions to not rush him. You still had the whole evening after all. You told him about your day and now, the two of you were cooking in silence. It wasn’t usually an awkward silence when you ended up in the kitchen, but tonight something was creeping under the surface. His watch beeped, breaking the silence of the kitchen. You looked over the pot you were stirring and saw that he had received a message from Peter. Miguel opened the notification, thinking it was an important work-related message, but it was just a picture of Peter and Mayday, trying to shoot webs. Under the picture, Peter had written “New recruit incoming!” You couldn’t hold a laugh; Peter was such a girl’s dad. It was pretty cute to see, even if you knew that his lack of professionalism was getting on Miguel’s nerves. Your husband turned off the watch, grunting, and even took it off, putting it on the table before getting back to seasoning the dish.

Something was definitely off.

“Is everything alright, Miguel?”

“Why wouldn’t it be alright?” His voice sounded off. It was your time hugging him from behind, which was not easy regarding your size difference but you still managed to hold him. Your head was resting between his shoulder blades as you stayed like this for a few seconds before finally saying something:

“Listen, I know Peter is sometimes...a little too much and that he gets on your nerves. I also know that things are not always easy at your job and that you are under a lot of pressure…”

You let your hands roam his back and knead his tense shoulders.

“Maybe we can fix that…”

Miguel quickly understood where you were going with this impromptu proposition and alluring tone. He let out an other disgruntled sound as you were bothering him when he needed to focus, but you knew he was smiling, his smile oozing through his voice even if you couldn’t see it.

“You know we don’t have to do it tonight if you’re tired…”

***

You pushed Miguel on your bed, straddling him, your arms around his shoulders as you kissed him. Miguel’s fingers slipped under your shirt, slowly lifting it up. You kept kissing for a good minute, feeling each other as if it had been months since you didn’t see each other. When you broke the kiss, his hair was disheveled and his lips had taken a soft pinkish undertone. You already knew by heart the shape of his body but you never get tired of it, always discovering new things about him. Your right hand was stroking his cheek while your left one glided down his shirt, playing with its buttons. You could see his skin poke through the opening between each button. You both exchanged one knowing look. This would usually turn only one way. Your hands reached his belt and you could feel the fabric of his pants getting stretched by his growing erection. The pad of your thumb brushed over his hard-on as you said with a smile you were now unable to hide any longer:

“Seems like someone is already eager for more.”

Miguel held a sheepish smile as he bit his lower lip. He has to know the effect he had on your after all this time, or else he wouldn’t act this way. One of his hands held himself on the bed while his free hand grabbed your butt, gently squeezing it. You shuddered at the sensation, still managing to keep your fingers on his erection.

“It’s not fair that you’re the only one allowed to touch.”, he said with a cheeky smile. Your fingers unbuckled his belt and he helped you taking off your shirt. You both had been past the first steps of any relationship when you both needed to always present yourself under your best light. You didn’t care anymore about your body hair, your stretch marks or even your saggy breasts. You knew you didn’t have to care anymore about that, that he would accept you the way you are and love you, just like you loved all his “imperfections” that made him who he was. It could be his scars, his fangs or his talons… You had accepted every features of him, you even grew into them.

Miguel took a good look at you before gyrating his lips, slowly lifting them up so you could take off his pants.

“¿Cómo te vuelves aún más bonita cada vez que te veo?” (How do you even get prettier every time I see you?)

Miguel speaking in Spanish was always a good sign in these moments. You were used to his usual sweet names he would give you, but you still had some trouble understanding what he was saying sometimes. Nonetheless you always knew deep down that these were the type of words that would make you go crazy. His little satisfied smile would let you know how much he enjoyed seeing you trying to guess what he just told you.

“I guess you’re not going to tell me what you just said.” You were on your knees, facing him, your hands tugging at the waistband of his underwear, teasing him. He smiled at you, tucking of strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I just said you were getting even prettier every time I see you.”

“I’m going to treat you so right tonight…”, you answered with a grin as you lowered his briefs.

With one gentle pat on your head, he let you know he was ready for you to make your words into action. You gave his cock one long lick from the base to the tip, before teasing the said tip with your lips. Miguel let out a low moan, coming straight out of the depth of his throat. Your tongue swirled around his erect member and you couldn’t hold a moan yourself when you started swallowing him. His hands held the side of your face, your lose hair trapped around his finger. You looked up at his face, watching his every reaction, how his lips slightly parted as he started panting, how a single curl of his hair seemed lost on his forehead…

“No pares, querida. Sé que puedes hacerlo.” (Don’t stop, darling. I know you can do it.)

You started bobbing your head with the help of Miguel. You’re going to need him somewhere else soon. The more you felt him going deeper, the wetter you were getting. You didn’t try to control your moans or the lewd noises your mouth would make, knowing how much he liked it when your were vocal. Your hands started caressing his inner thighs and the closer you were getting to its base, the more Miguel’s hands were gripping your head tighter.

“Please...baby…” His pleading voice was like music to your ears and you could feel how much he wanted for you to take him fully, which was usually not that easy given his girth...but worth it, every time you saw his reaction. You gave him one nod and he pulled you closer, moving his hips, rutting against you, the tip of his cock close to your uvula.

Miguel came quickly after that in a symphony of low groans and helpless whimpers. He let himself fall on the bed, shaking the mattress while doing so. His cock was still hard and the red tip was coated with your saliva. Even when lying down the bed he kept his legs spread. You watched him closely, observing how he would slowly catch his breath.

“Thanks mami. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”, you answered, whipping some saliva from your chin.

You planted a kiss on his thighs and moved onto the bed, next to him. Your eyes didn’t leave his body. His chest was heaving under the fabric of the shirt and you couldn’t resist opening it, exposing the absolute perfection of his chest to your greedy eyes. Miguel gave you one amused look.

“Got some ideas?”

“You always give me so many ideas, papi.” Your attempt at teasing him in Spanish made him smile even more. You were clearly not fluent but everything sounded way cuter in your mouth and he never minded you being flirty. His fingers brushed along your hips.

“That’s good to know… I may have a few ideas on what we could do… It’s something that would imply for you to relax and lie down.” He smoothly shifted your place on your bed, making you lie on the sheets and straddling you. His fingers get hooked in the hoops of your pants that he quickly pulled off, leaving you in nothing more than in a pair of low-cut panties. Your hip dips were showing as well as the flesh of your thighs, soft and inviting to the gaze, to the touch. The thin straps of the panties was lost under soft mounds of flesh, pressing against your skin. Miguel hooked his fingers under the straps, slowly pulling it off as your womanhood was now exposed to him. He let out a sigh as he watched your body already sprayed out for him. His fingers kneaded your skin, squeezing gently your skin as he lowered his body on yours. You were face to face, your noses rubbing against one another when you reached for your nightstand and more specifically the drawer in which you knew a box of condoms was always waiting. Miguel caught you moving and he gently grabbed your wrist.

“Actually, I thought we could… try not using them tonight.”

It was so rare to see him losing his words. He was always so sure of himself, even when he happened to be wrong, that you stopped moving. Did you understand what he meant?

“But… I could…” You didn’t finish your sentence, letting the word float in the air between the two of you. Miguel suddenly seemed uneasy as he stammered:

“You know what? Forget about what I said. Let’s just use one and…” This time, you were the one stopping his movement as he tried to reach the drawer.

“Miguel, is it what you had in your mind since you came back home?” You weren’t sure of what you were feeling. You were definitely surprised since you didn’t imagine Miguel wanting this, not with his job, not after his last attempt at parenting. You knew it was a sensitive topic for him and he rarely opened up about it. You just assumed he wasn’t interested in this matter. He lowered his head, looking at your body under him, his cheeks slightly flushed as he admitted in a low voice:

“I’ve been thinking about this since we got married.”

Your hands reached for one another, your fingers intertwining and you both could feel the other’s ring against your skin.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I thought you… that you would never want to start a family, to have children.”

Miguel’s small smile almost made you melt. He gave your forehead a soft peck before answering:

“That’s what I used to think too… but then I met you.”

“Is there an other reason?”

“Well… you know…maybe… seeing Jess and Peter having their own family made me think.” Miguel leaned in and kissed your neck, whispering between each kiss:

“I thought we could try and see how it goes. You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently. About our future and some other things. Like, how many children we could have, their names, how they would look… Maybe we would have a house…”

You’ve never thought the picket-fence dream was for you but as Miguel kept describing it, the children running in the garden, waking up on a Sunday morning next to him, the kids barging in the room, hours spend helping them with their homework on the kitchen table before you all make dinner…

“Please, tell me what else you had imagined.” Miguel couldn’t help but smile at your request. The picture of your family was becoming clearer in your mind with every word of his.

“How does that sound, querida?” He was waiting for your answer, feeling more anxious every minute as he had just told you his dearest desire.

“It sounds amazing, Miguel.” His smile could light up the whole room as he pressed his body on yours.

“Do you want this too?”, he asked in a low voice. You could only nod as your hands wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. You then lifted up your lips to meet his and he let out a low groan before kissing you. The kiss you were sharing was becoming more and more heated as the two of you moved your heads, deepening the kiss. Miguel’s tongue entered your mouth and caressed its inside when his hands strongly held your hips. The tip of his cock brushed against your entrance and you moaned against his mouth. He kept teasing you until you were growing more and more frustrated and playfully bit his lower lip. Miguel’s fingers started spreading your wet arousal all over your folds as he began to stretch you, getting you ready for him. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. The mere idea of cumming inside you was already making his softened member harder than before and he knew he wouldn’t last long.

When he finally inserted his cock between your lips, he let out a low moan, throwing his head backward. You felt your body reacting for you, your walls tightening around him, trapping him until he let go of his release. It took him a few seconds to adjust himself, finding the right angle and the best way for you to accommodate to his size and girth. Just when he began to move slowly, sliding in and out, your hands reached for his butt and you helped him moving, finding the right pace. You would give him a few squeezes from time to time, feeling how it seemed to directly affect him.

Miguel’s eyes were locked on yours as he watched your face distorted with pleasure, your lips slightly parted, your eyes half-closed and at the same time imagining what you would look like pregnant. He could easily picture your soft and round body, all for him to love and worship.

You felt him getting closer to his release each passing second from the look in his eyes, dizzy and far away, and the way his hips were mowing in a soon erratic way. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your hands grabbed his hair, pulling his face closer to yours for an other kiss. You were both lost in the haze of pleasure this whole thing was. Miguel’s legs were shaking when he grabbed one of your breasts and squeezed it. Your moan, the weight and softness of your breasts against his hands… he lost it in this moment. With a low moan, he finally let go, reaching his orgasm and when he did so, his fingers squeezed harder your breast, earning a strangled moan from you as well.

Miguel let his body fall on top of yours, while his cock was still buried inside you. He was filling you in every way possible. Before you could say anything his lips kissed your breasts, first the side then the top and finally his lips circled your nipple, licking, tugging and biting on them. His ministrations were methodical as he knew exactly what strings to pull for you to enjoy yourself. As he did so, your fingers kept playing with his hair, with the soft and plump curves of his bottom… and this time you both came.Miguel let out a tired groan before lying next to you. One of his hands gently squeezed your thigh while you both looked at each other.

“Do you think it will work?”, you asked in a small voice.

Miguel’s body shifted toward you and he held your waist, pressing his forehead against yours. He needed some time to find his words while enjoying the beauty of your body in front of him. Will it work? Probably not the first time, he thought. But he knew it was just a matter of time before the two of you could have your own family., and he was more than willing to try as many times as needed.

“You’re going to be such an amazing mom.”

========

Note: I don't usually like the pregnancy trope and pregnancy is something that I find a little scary. Also this is such a heavy topic, so I hope I gave it justice. I'm not really satisfied with what I wrote but I still wanted to try.

But I also thought this trope could really fit Miguel. I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading this mess. Here's your cookie🍪

Edit: thanks for the 200 likes

#astv miguel #spiderverse #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut

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bitchylandtyphoon · 9 months

Text

Important to me

Sam Winchester x Reader

(Y/N): your name

(E/C): eye colour

(C/C): celeb crush

Sam and Dean slowly descended the rusty black stairs, trying not to trip from exhaustion. Every nerve ending in their body was hypersensitive; their fingers and toes were cold; their eyes and heads pounded from lack of sleep; and a rotting stench was secreting from their overworn clothing. “Hey guys, how was the hunt?" you asked in a gentle voice to avoid elevating their migraine pain. Dean mumbled under his breath as he walked to his room; even Sam could only give a small smile and “tiring” as a response.

You’ve noticed how the boys have become more tired after their hunts. Maybe it was because you did all the research while they did all the dirty work, or simply because they were getting older. Either way, it’s been taking a toll on their health, and you know it wouldn’t be good in the long run.

Judging from their clothes, you assumed they’d be taking a shower before getting some shut-eye, but you didn’t want them to go to bed hungry.

Walking to the kitchen, you opened the white door of the fridge, which consisted of a few eggs, lettuce, and beer. Wow, no wonder these guys only eat out. Groaning, you grabbed your keys and coat, texting Sam and Dean that you'd be heading out, knowing disturbing them wouldn’t be the best idea.

——————————————————————— Sam walked out of the steaming shower, wrapping his lower body in a towel. Taking another to dry off his hair. He ran his long fingers through his hair, noticing it had become very coarse over the past few months. Sam thought back to a hunt when shards of a monster's guts managed to get stuck in his hair. He felt like it was a personal attack; a shower didn’t help as much as he wanted to either. He spent hours trying to get the red and black hard goo out, even asking Dean. Unfortunately, Dean was not very gentle and made Sam partially ball. He remembers how you saved the day with coconut oil and a small brush. You had to sit on a chair while Sam sat crisscrossed in between your legs. You guys were still getting to know each other, so it was an awkward moment, but after Sam felt your gentle nails and euphoric massage, he melted. His head rested on your bare, soft thigh as you worked on the sides of his head. He felt so much at peace that he could’ve slept right then and there. He chuckled as he ran his hand through his hair, wishing he could have some of that magic right now. He wanted the comfort you gave him.

Putting on his comfier clothes, he slid into his bed, falling soundly asleep with a fond yet tired memory passing through his head once more.

——————————————————————— You slide open the door, balancing heavy bags of groceries, a special box containing a slice of heaven for Dean, and the boys’ favourite drinks. You dropped the bags in the kitchen, unpacking them away into the cupboards and fridge. Knowing it would be a long night, you pulled out your phone and put some music on low. You then turned on the gas stove, grabbing the lighter out of the drawer to start the fire. Begin by taking out mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, and other foods, washing them before finely chopping them, and cooking them on low heat. You added seasoning and eventually smelled the delicious aroma emanating from the dish. Now you need to cook the meat.

————————————————— Each boiling drop from the shower head felt relaxing and painful as it fell onto Dean's hunched back. The heat soothed his ache, yet, the new bruises were sending another sensation of pain throughout his back. He groaned as he faced the shower head and allowed the pellets to hit his face, giving all his might to scrub away the dried-up blood and sweat embedded in his freckled skin. All he could think about was sleep, hoping to sleep as much as he could yet, knowing another case would cut his rest short. He took the white soap bar and breathed in the rose aroma it released, it reminded him of you. Dean was glad he had a girl like you in his life, no matter what was bothering his thoughts or physically torturing him, he knew he’d have you to patch him up. You were always there for Sam and him. Every time you carefully did his stitches, gave him a needed hug, fixed his tie or walked into your room, the smell would give him a sense of comfort. It reminded him of his younger days spent with his mom. It reminded him of home.

——————————————————————— You put on the blue oven kits cautiously taking out the crispy chicken from the oven. The meal was finished and so were the other dishes you made. You even had time to prepare healthy snacks and some of Sam’s favourite protein drinks. From a young age, you hated the thought of being a housewife and having to complete all the duties at home, but you knew it was the least you could do to cheer them up, adding much-needed order to their already chaotic lives. Plus, it was nothing compared to all they did for you after they took you in. You smiled as you admired the dinner table, for once looking like a normal family’s dinner table and not used as a summoning ground.

You knocked on Sam’s door to get no response, knowing the younger Winchester might’ve fallen asleep you went to go check on the other one. Knocking once again to hear a low “yeah…”. Pushing the door you see a half awake, now clean Dean, lying against the headboard watching TV.

“Hey,” you gently said. “How are you feeling?”. His eyes were still heavy with sleep but pupils dilated from insomnia. You could tell he tried sleeping but to no avail. “Listen,” you sit on the bed and see him smile a bit. “I know you’re tired but I made some food for you and Sam and you should eat. You’d sleep better with a full stomach. And I might have some pieee”. With that Dean jumped into his bunny slippers and strutted towards the kitchen in his pink nightgown. Chuckling at Dean's cuteness, stopping before leaving the room as you saw the big pile of bloodied clothes on the floor.

———————————————————————

“Hey Sam, I’m coming in.” You announced, entering the neat room, smelling a mix of pine trees and cheap cologne. You saw Sam’s large body lying on his stomach, a soft snore coming from his peaceful slumber. Quietly entering the room, you searched for his hamper, unlike the other one, Sam kept his dirty clothes in one, making it easier for you to take the clothes out of his room.

As you passed by Sam, you stood there watching him, taking advantage of the sliver of peace he was given. You put the hamper down slowly to not wake up Sam, getting on your knees, face level with Sam’s. You watched as his lips laid in a pouted style, opening once in a while to exhale, you took notes of the small moles, birthmarks and faint freckles scattered over his face like stars, noticing how perfect his nose was; never have you ever seen a perfect natural triangle. His thick dark brown eyebrows arched over his forehead symmetrically and his lashes fluttered gracefully as butterflies. His hair was your favourite part, ever since you helped take the guts out of his hair you missed the proximity and softness. His soft hair tickled the inside of your thighs and reminded you of a dog’s overgrown mane. It was beautiful to touch.

You then noticed the crevices appearing in his forehead and eye sockets. He starts to stir in his sheets, the peaceful expressions disappearing, turning into a pained one. He began making uncomfortable noises. He was going into a nightmare.

“Sam, hey wake up! Sam come on, wake up. It’s just a dream!” Sam’s head started moving side to side, the veins in his temple and neck protruding. His eyes were tightly shut and beads of sweat formed across his forehead. His hand gripped firmly onto the arm shaking his shoulder, the other gripping the the brown sheets. “SAM WAKE UP!” Shouting wouldn’t help anymore, looking around you see a cup of water on the nightstand.

——————————————————————— Sam jolted up with a gasp, cold water on his face which soaked most of his hair and nightshirt. He grasped onto as much air as possible, eyes wide trying to familiarize his surroundings. A sense of relief overcame him when he saw your concerned (e/c) eyes.

He saw how your eyes travelled over his face searching for an answer, too shocked or scared to say anything. He sighed, “Don’t tell Dean, please.”

“Ok, I won’t.” What was that, you thought to yourself, you’ve never seen this type of behaviour from him. “At least talk to me about it. You’ve been more tired than usual and it’s worrying. If you’re not gonna tell Dean, tell me.”

Sam smiled, his heart swell when he heard your confession. For once someone was listening to his struggles without ratting out to Dean.

“Um Sam…” Sam shares a confused look until you look down at your now red and numb arm. “Sorry!” Sam immediately retracts his arm away, allowing the blood to rush back to the area.

“It’s like you’ve never touched a girl before or something” you joke trying to lighten up the mood. He laughs under his breath. “Come downstairs and eat something.” You demanded as you rubbed your sore arm.

“It’s okay-“

“Sam.”

He grins his teeth as he sees your serious face. Cute, he thought.

You grab onto his large calloused hands and attempt to pull the giant out of bed, barely budging. “Oh my god, you are so friggin heavy. How are you built like a god with all that junk food?”

He jumps to his feet almost falling on top of you, your nose meeting his chest as the scent of fresh soap fills your nose. A blush rises to your skin at the proximity, looking up you see his brown eyes already staring down at you. You felt his thumb glazed over your smaller hands, which you both held onto each other. “So you think I’m built like a god huh?” Sam suggestively asks with a raised eyebrow.

Taking a quick step back, you playfully shove him away. “Haha very funny Indeed Winchester, get your ass downstairs.” Crossing your arms you wait till he exits his room, him and his footsteps disappearing into the hallway.

“(Y/n) THINKS I HAVE A HOT BODY” Sam shouts from the hallway; your eyes widen as instant embarrassment runs through your body. You hoped to god Dean didn’t hear or you’d never see the end of the teasing.

———————————————————————

You return to the kitchen to see two big babies chowing down on the meal you made, acting as if they hadn’t eaten in ages.

“(Y/n), THISH FWOOD ISH AMASHING” You barely make out the words as Dean continues to stuff his mouth with food. “What he said,” Sam says as he adds more food to his plate. You giggle as you sit next to Sam, glad to see them eating a proper meal. “Where did you even learn how to cook like this?” Dean asks. “My mom used to teach me the basics but then I picked it up more when I moved out. Haven’t cooked like this since University actually,” you answer. “So you’re gonna tell me we could’ve been eating like kings but you decided to torture us with takeout.” Dean jokes while dropping his fork on his plate. “I never hated you more.”

You burst out into laughter throwing your head back, “Please, you love me.” You say rolling your eyes. You noticed how Sam became quiet, twirling his food around a fork.

“Not as much as Sammy does,” Dean says with a devious smirk. Sam chokes on his food as you roll your eyes. “Very funny Dean” Sam glares at Dean.

“Sorry Sam but I’m off limits, too committed to (c/c).” You giggle as you jokingly twirl your hair. “He’s such a daring man dramatic sigh”.

“I’m gonna puke my food up if you keep acting like that,” Dean says with a disgusted face while trying to put even more food in his mouth.

You cheekily smile and see as Sam scoffs, taking note of the weird action. Dean gets up to put his plate away, you take this as a cue to start cleaning up the kitchen.

“Goodnight” Dean yells as he walks out the door. You and Sam both say goodnight. Then it hits you, that rascal. He left you and Sam in the kitchen alone. You can already feel the blood rushing to your ears, instead, you try to distract yourself by doing the dishes.

“Do you need help with anything?” His eyebrows knit together as he asks “Let me help clean at least.”

As much as you wanted him to rest, you couldn’t say no to him and his persuasion. Or maybe he had you wrapped around his finger. “Uh yeah, I’ll wash and you dry?” You offer pointing to the load of dishes. “Yeah, that’s great”. You grab the yellow sponge and begin scrubbing the sauces off the pots, leaving Sam to get the towel. Unmindful of you, you forget where the towels are, right in the cabinet in front of you, the towels stacked on the higher shelf. As you were about to move you felt Sam’s figure hover over your smaller frame. You freeze as you feel his body’s heat mingle with your cold body. His large hand rests on your lower back.

To another person, it could be a simple gesture, but to you, deep down you were screaming from the closeness of it all. Somehow Sam had always made you shy in his presence, you didn’t know if it was because of how smart and skilled he was that made you feel inadequate to him or how he made you weak in the knees with his beautiful…well everything. You’ve been close with other men like Dean, yet Sam’s touches and glances manage to get your cheeks red and heart pumping.

You mindlessly scrub a knife, hoping to finish the chore as soon as possible. “Ow ow ow…” you grimace in pain as the knife slices the side of your finger. You see Sam reacts quickly. Grabbing your hand and putting it under the faucet, turning on the cold water. “This looks pretty bad,” he says as he takes your hands in his. One hand holds on to your wrist while the other gently presses the cut, attempting to get as much blood out.

You could not imagine a more embarrassing moment, the one time you’re alone with Sam you embarrass yourself like a child. Yet you couldn’t ignore how Sam’s body was pressed against yours, you could feel the rough outlines in his body. The front of his leg pressed up against your butt.

“Does it hurt?” Sam asks, not looking away from the cut.

“It just stings but not too much” you reply, noticing the decreased blood spillage.

He takes your other hand and guides your fingers into mirroring his previous actions. “Don’t move I’ll be back”. His warmth fades and you stand still, waiting as the cold water cleans up your cut.

You throw your head back, groaning at your clumsiness.

——————————————————————- Hissing in pain, Sam dabs rubbing alcohol into your new cut. You’re now sitting in his room as it was the closest place with a first aid kit.

“There, all done. How does it feel?” Sam finishes wrapping a large bandaid around the wound.

“I am so much better now. Thank you, Sam.”

Sam gives you a soft smile and he cleans the area up, you watch as he picks up the remote and turns on the TV.

“I thought you were tired”

“Come on, it’s only like 10 pm. We’ll be fine.” Sam defends himself as he sits on the other side of the bed. “Come closer.” He pats the empty spot beside him.

You look stunned at what the Winchester is implying until you realize he means to lay against the headboard. You slowly get up, sitting beside Sam but leaving a good space between both your bodies.

“So what do you want to watch?” Sam asks as he starts surfing through movies on his TV.

“I’m okay with whatever.” ——————————————————————— You turn to Sam to talk to him about the climax when you realize he has dosed off. His head leaning back on the headboard, from the side it looked uncomfortable. Not knowing what to do, you decided to wait until the movie finished. ——————————————————————— You yawned as the movie neared its end, all the characters looking over the bleeding horizon as the camera zooms out. From the lack of movement, you assume Sam is still asleep. You take his phone off the nightstand and turn the do not disturb mode on, if other hunters need you, you’ll handle the case for them. He deserves some rest.

You pull out your phone to scroll through your private socials. Seeing a few edits of your (c/c) and quietly giggling to yourself. You take a glance at Sam, still dosed off. He looks better now. Wait, you look between your (c/c) and Sam. Omg, how did you not see it before? You groan internally as you stare at your phone; the long-haired, smart, well-mannered, and tall golden retriever guy. They were honestly so alike. You hoped the boys wouldn’t be able to see the resemblance.

You thought back to the moment at the table when you were gushing over (c/c) and Sam scoffed. Do you think he was jealous? No, no way. You calm yourself down before the redness reaches your face.

You felt a heavy weight shift onto your shoulder, his hair tickling the crevice of your neck. You didn’t want to wake him up by checking but it was very evident that Sam had fallen asleep on your shoulder. You could smell the sandalwood scent coming from his hair, wishing you could get more of the comforting smell.

Sam was tired and you knew it would be a big fuss if you woke him up. So, you stayed there, looking at the TV screen, trying to hold in any excitement or scream within you. The butterflies are swarming their way around your stomach. That is until you felt Sam’s arm wrap around your torso.

You stay still, unlike your body temperature which skyrockets at the sudden touch. You feel yourself being pulled towards him even more, his head snuggling dangerously close to your neck, his lips close to your skin. Sam’s hot breath created a burning sensation, your heat causing them to burn tenfold.

You weren’t gonna move, you couldn’t leave, you were stuck beside Sam for the rest of the night. You exhale trying to calm yourself; he’ll forget all about this tomorrow. This is totally what friends do. You cuddle and panic internally with Dean all the time. You couldn’t be lying more at this point. You shut your eyes, you carefully reach over to turn the nightlight off.

click

The only light was emitting from the faint blue light on the TV. Its light began to shut off as the room welcomed pure darkness.

So you lay there in the dark as you feel Sam’s body snuggled right up to yours, his arms holding you captive as his fingers twitch and graze you ever so often. This would be a dream if you guys were together. You’ve liked Sam ever since you knew him, and you love both him and Dean very much. Doing everything in your power to show how much you care for them. You just wanted Sam to love you and adore you the way you did.

You felt a wave of exhaustion hit you, and your own eyes became heavy with fatigue. Blinking slowly, you succumb to Sam’s comfort and allow your heavy head to lay on his.

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