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meazalykov · 5 days ago

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a day in my life

sydney lohmann x contentcreatorwife!reader (requested)

summary: you're a content creator who shares her life with her millions of followers

you open your tiktok app, the bright and colorful icon glowing on your phone screen, you yawn as you spend hours editing– or should you say preparing to share another piece of your life with your vast audience of 3 million followers.

scrolling through your feed, you can't help but feel the warmth of your community surrounding you. every comment under your videos makes you smile, each one a reminder of the positive space you've created.

viewers quickly praise how pretty and gorgeous you look while also expressing their admiration for the delicious meals you whip up, your hygiene hauls, your skincare and haircare tutorials, grocery shopping vlogs, and more.

the positivity is intoxicating, and you thank them for contributing such joyful energy to your day.

the sun filters softly through your kitchen window, casting a golden hue over the space. it feels like the perfect day to create something cozy and comforting—a hearty soup, perhaps, or a flavorful stir-fry, something you know your followers will appreciate and be excited to try.

you set your phone on the countertop, adjusting the camera and tripod until it captures just the right angle of your kitchen and you busy at work. the space is organized yet warm, with hanging herbs in the background, jars of spices lining the shelves, and an array of fresh vegetables waiting for your expert touch.

as you gather your ingredients, you glance over at your pets lounging nearby in the spacious living room.

your three cats, each with their unique personalities, are nestled in their favorite spots—your tabby is laying on the windowsill soaking up the sunlight, your calico sprawled lazily on the kitchen rug closest to you, and the void kitty perched atop a wooden stool, watching you intently.

your dog, an affectionate golden retriever, lays by your feet, occasionally looking up at you with big, adoring eyes as if to say, “what’s for dinner, can you drop something please?”

these little moments bring you joy. you adore taking care of them, and they, in turn, seem to love being a part of your daily influencer journey, often making cameo appearances in your videos.

you begin chopping vegetables as you talk to the camera, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board a comforting backdrop to your thoughts.

“what’s your secret to looking so beautiful while cooking?” one comment might ask, while another expresses their desire to make cooking look as fun as you do.

you know that sharing your passion for cooking, hygiene tips, and pet care not only showcases your lifestyle but also encourages your followers to embrace their own routines with confidence.

between chopping, you take a moment to wash your hands, the cool water refreshing against your skin. you make a point to highlight hygiene in your videos, explaining the importance of cleanliness in every kitchen as you scrub away.

“keeping things clean not only makes your food better but also should give you peace of mind,” you say, glancing up at the camera with a playful smile and eyebrow wiggle.

that’s what this is about for you—creating an environment that feels secure and inviting, one that resonates with others who might feel the same way.

as you move on to your next ingredient in the video—a bright red bell pepper—you read the comments on your videos. you feel a rush of excitement. you know your followers are eager to engage.

“what’s your go-to meal for busy weekdays?” someone comments.

you pause, contemplating.

“anything that has rice, vegetables, and some kind of protein!” you replied to the comment, explaining one of your favorite dishes.

the chopping and mixing continue in the video,giving some kind of asmr affect while you talked from the voiceover. each time you look at the comments, you see familiar usernames offering support, commenting on something silly that might’ve happened in your video (one of your cats knocking over the flour), and how gorgeous your meals look.

it’s heartwarming to see names familiar to you—followers who have always been there, cheering you on. they ask questions about your daily routines with the pets, wanting to know how you manage your time, how you balance it all while fulfilling the role of a traditional wife.

you realize your life might not resonate with many— but they still see themselves in your routines.

“this is my favorite part,” you say in the video with a smile as you hear the timer go off for the food you put in the oven, giving a little twirl in front of the camera. the laughter that fills your kitchen feels contagious as you channel your enthusiasm into the moment.

every so often, you peek at your pets, which you do in the video. you held up your calico cat, who meows at the camera before you give her a light kiss on the head. you put her down and the clip cuts to you taking the food off of the stove and out of the oven.

with your pets, you can’t help but share snippets of your pet care routine as well, talking about their feeding times, grooming, and little quirks that make them uniquely lovable. your content is filled with different stuff, which is how you attracted many people to your content.

“my cats love to get into everything,” you chuckle, and you can see your viewers relating to those everyday struggles that come with pet families.

“off topic to the video but do you have any favorite fragrance scents?” you read one comment.

you nodded knowingly before typing to reply to that comment.

“i have a video posted about that coming soon :)”

you happily respond to some comments, knowing it would be unrealistic to reply to all of the comments you get from thousands of users. you genuinely enjoy helping others and answering their questions—whether it’s about your favorite recipes, store vlogs, or trad wife jokes.

as you dive deeper into the comments on your latest tiktok video, you notice a recurring theme: questions about your “husband.”

at first, you chuckle to yourself. you can see why people might think that; after all, the shimmering ring on your finger is hard to miss. it’s a beautiful reminder of your commitment—a symbol of love and partnership.

as you scroll, a sense of mild frustration settles in. many viewers comment on why you never showcase your husband in your videos or joke about him going “off-camera.”

living in munich and posting in perfect english can sometimes create misinterpretations. your followers likely pictured a traditional marriage between a man and a woman, and while a part of you understands the confusion, it feels strange to think that they have constructed an image of your life that doesn’t quite align with reality.

your heart swells with pride knowing you're part of a loving partnership, but there’s a longing to set the record straight. you’re not married to a husband; you’re married to your beautiful wife, sydney.

sydney, a football player for bayern munich, doesn’t post much about her personal life on social media, opting instead to keep her professional and personal worlds somewhat separate. this could explain why your followers often don’t make the connection between the two of you; to most, she’s just an athlete in the spotlight who just cares about her club and her national team.

she works hard, dedicating herself to her sport, and while she’s known widely for her skills on the field, she doesn’t share the same kind of social media presence as you do. it was always you who took the lead in posting, sharing your daily life and exploring the joys of cooking, cleaning, and caring for each other.

as you set the camera up for another video, the ring glimmering on your finger catches your eye once more. you reflect on the day you exchanged vows with sydney three years ago, a small celebration filled with laughter and love among close friends and family.

it was perfect in its simplicity—just two women, madly in love, promising to navigate life together. while you take care of the cooking and household duties, sydney has her own passion and career, bringing balance to your lives.

the dynamic you’ve built over the years is one that thrives on mutual support and respect.

picturing sydney’s infectious smile, you can’t help but feel a pang of longing for her to be part of your videos, sharing moments together with your viewers. however, you know she’s more private, focusing on her career and you privately with her friends and acquaintances.

perhaps it’s time to find a way to bring her into your vibrant world online, to showcase your life together and dispel the assumptions that others have made.

waking up in the morning, the dog was snuggled beside sydney as your calico cat was laying on top of your left leg. the both of you still groggy and half-sleepy. however, sydney didn’t have anything football related so you decided to stay in bed for the bit longer before waking her up.

later, after making breakfast and filming the sizzling sounds of bacon cooking alongside fluffy scrambled eggs, you brewed a steaming pot of coffee. the warm aroma filled the air as you took a moment to scroll on your latest post’s comments.

you posted the video the night before and decided to not check the comments until the following morning.

the reasoning why? you posted your wife for the first time on your page, blowing up the assumptions about you having a, “husband.”

in the video, your “spend the day with me” vlog, you began to prepare lunch by chopping some bell peppers as sydney’s arms wrap around you from behind. relaxed in that clip of the video, you turned your head to see sydney, her playful grin lighting up your heart.

“don’t cut yourself!” she teased, but the video couldn’t hear it since you were doing a voiceover.

syd started planting kisses along your neck, moving from your temple down to your shoulders. it was a spontaneous moment, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, knife in hand, with the clip showing the love that was filled in your eyes.

the unsuspecting viewers were treated to an endearing glimpse into your marriage, the warmth and tenderness so apparent even through the screen.

the comments exploded after you posted the video hours before:

“is that a woman you were cuddling with?”

“WOAHHH Y/N IS GAY TOO???”

while many found joy in your representation, others were filled with disbelief. you could feel the surge of both surprise and excitement—when love is real, it knows no bounds. some expressed their admiration, saying “i love that you’re a lesbian trad wife!”

the curiosity didn’t stop there. as the day unfolded, you posted another cute video of sydney playing with your golden retriever in the backyard.

the sun reflected off her hair, illuminating her playful smile as she dribbles a ball with her foot for the eagerly bouncing dog. the clip was heartwarming, showcasing the simple joy the three of you shared—a family moment that anyone could relate to.

however, it was this clip that sent the comments section into a complete frenzy:

“IS THAT SYDNEY LOHMANN?”

“I KNOW I'VE SEEN YOUR WIFE BEFORE WHY DOES SHE LOOK FAMILIAR?”

“that's me in the background drowning in the pool (i’m jealous).”

while a faction of your followers were well-versed in european football, many, especially those from the united states, didn’t immediately identify the familiar figure.

soon, the chatter erupted:

“wait, is she a bayern munich player? i swear ive seen her before?”

“OMG, I love her!”

people started connecting the dots, and as they did, a wave of excitement washed over you. sydney was known in germany for her skills on the field, but now more than ever, they’d see her as a loving partner.

while your heart swelled with happiness at the support spiraling around you, you felt a familiar itch to address all the questions and assumptions.

some of your followers were new, and you wanted to ensure they understood the depth of your relationship with sydney. so you made a decision; it was time to sit down for a more heartfelt conversation about your coming out story and the experiences you both shared navigating your lives together.

the following night, after a long tiring day filled with engagement and a repeat of that joyous exchange of laughter, you set up your camera for a “get unready with me for bed” video.

the lights were dimmed, and the ambiance in your bathroom felt cozy—slippers on your feet, hair pinned back by your pink headband, and your skincare products lined up on the counter cast in soft shadows.

it was an intimate setting, one where you could be vulnerable and share your truth.

as you began applying your cleansing balm, you took a deep breath.

“hey everyone, it’s Y/N. I thought it would be a great time to address everything that’s been going on. I want to share a little bit about my coming out story and what it means to be married to the incredible woman that is my wife, sydney,” you began, feeling the familiarity of camera anxiety dissipating as you focused on the sincerity of your message.

you continued as you moved through your skincare routine, gently massaging the balm into your skin.

“you know, coming out isn’t a one-time event. for me, it first began in high school. there were hints that i was gay around the age of 14 but i didn’t accept that until i was 16.. keep in mind, i was terrified, just like many others who start to accept that they’re gay. my school experience was not easy, and I had moments—cruel whispers, bullying, rejection. thankfully, my parents were accepting when i came out and i was able to lean on them for support along with my friends. i also found solace in art and creativity.”

pausing for a moment, you looked down at your skincare products, lost in thought.

“but then came moving to munich. it felt like a fresh start. that’s when I met sydney through my mutual friend, klara, who also plays with sydney and oh my goodness, she was captivating! so full of passion and life. she pulled me in with her laughter, and not to be corny or anything– but it felt like the universe conspired for us to find each other. loving her was just so easy; it felt effortless. her loving me felt so easy and loving her felt the same.”

as your vulnerability unfolded, the likes and comments increased.

using a luxurious night cream, you gently applied it to your face while you spoke candidly, reflecting on your marriage.

“syd and i have been married for three years now. we got eloped before having a ceremony a year later.. i’m not even kidding when i say that every day is filled with joy, support, and a deep respect for one another. it makes me so grateful because i thought my life was over when i first started to suspect that i was gay and catching feelings for women. with my wife, sydney inspires me with her dedication. she is so passionate when she is playing football on her club and national team– the way she pours herself into everything she does.”

then came the part that had been weighing on your mind. looking directly into the camera, you took another deep breath.

“I know there are some comments out there that reflect hate, misunderstanding, and a refusal to accept love in its many forms. to those hateful people, I say: disrespectfully, go fuck yourselves.” a smirk graced your lips before you laughed. you are never known for swearing in your videos, usually only swearing with your close peers while in casual conversation.

“love is love, and if you can’t accept that, you have no place to be following me, a gay woman.”

the enthusiasm of your voice resonated with your audience, and you felt the weight lift. you began to share advice for those struggling with their identities.

“if you’re in a situation where you feel alone or scared, know that you’re not. find your community, speak your truth, and hold on to the love you deserve. don’t let anyone dim your light. being true to yourself is beautiful, and no one can take that from you.”

as you finished your skincare routine, the sincerity poured through your last words.

“thank you all for being part of our journey; your support means everything. please continue to uplift love wherever it takes shape, and remember that we are all worthy of love, no matter what form it comes in.” you concluded with a genuine smile, and the warmth you felt radiated through the screen.

the video ended after that and a rush of fulfillment washed over you watching the video—a feeling of peace knowing that you had shared your story authentically and embraced the support from your community.

the comments section overflowed with love, connections ignited among those who shared similar experiences, and others who were just here to celebrate who you and sydney were.

in the days that followed, your bond with your followers deepened. newfound friendships blossomed, and more importantly, the vocal support poured in from every corner of your online community.

the journey continued to blossom as you shared snippets of your life with sydney, including her playful moments with your pets, cooking meals together, or even just sharing lazy afternoons on the couch. you came to look forward to posting every video, each one serving as a vibrant reminder of the love you both cherished, and nothing could ever take away that feeling.

masterlist

#sydney lohmann #sydney lohmann x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen

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beautyandhealthtips123 · 2 years ago

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Tom's of Maine Aluminum-Free Wicked Cool Natural Deodorant for Kids, Freestyle

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thelovelyruin · 1 year ago

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𝖆𝖈𝖖𝖚𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 : choso just couldn’t wait for you and him to be acquainted.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : college au, smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, fingering, edging?

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 5.3K

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from acquainted by the weeknd.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! probably my favorite yet. i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

Baby, you're no good 'cause they warned me ‘bout your type.

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean, NO. She’s bad news, dude.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I don’t. She just gives off the vibe that she’d break your heart or somethin'.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, she’s out of your league, first of all. You’re kinda awkward, and I can’t tell if you’re celibate or just can’t get laid. That and she’s pretty friendly with everyone.”

“Shouldn’t she be friendly?”

“Yeah, a little too friendly. A jealous motherfucker like you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“She wouldn’t be that way if she was in a relationship, right?”

Yuuji raised his eyebrow and threw his arms up.

“The world may never know. That is unless…you wanna know?”

Choso rolled his eyes, following Yuuji to class.

Baby, you're no good; I think I fell for you.

Little did Yuuji know Choso was already in love with you. As much as he’d try not to, he couldn’t help but see you walking around campus.

Pretty face adorned with sparkly lipgloss, your hair always down, giving a slight view of your hoop earrings. You usually wore a little locket necklace, never telling anyone what was inside, sitting atop a pink shirt that your tits always looked great in. Then a miniskirt that, depending on the breeze that day, gave a sneak peek of your ass. Then, the heels you wear, except for the winter when you wore a cute pair of boots with leggings, he could practically see through them. It was tough when he was in class with you; you raised your hand to answer a question, a French manicure, and the clinking of your bangles that were practically ASMR for him. Then, there were your books that, when some random guy wasn’t offering to hold them, pressed against your chest, making your breasts lift as you walked. Sometimes, you’d wear a perfume that smelled like cake; other days, vanilla, pretty hard to miss as you walked by. Then there was your skin, always glowing like you drank from the fountain of youth or something, legs smooth as you crossed them over one another or stood before the seminar to answer a question on the board. Sometimes, you had a pair of stockings or thigh highs that covered them, ending a little lower than where your skirt ended; god forbid you bent over, which you were careful never to do, usually asking someone to pick something up for you. You never touched a door either; sure, it was because every guy wanted to fuck you, running around like your puppies ready for a task; sometimes you gave them one, they’d run back to you with a lollipop or something like that, which you parted your lips so sexily to take in and suck.

It's not like he was paying attention or anything.

You got me puttin' time in.

Now, Choso wasn’t terrible at talking to girls, sometimes getting approached but a little too awkward to continue the conversation. Then again, he had the hots for you, so it was hard to look at anyone else. He’d got it in his mind that he’d talk to you one of these days. Maybe he’d ask you out on a date, but he wouldn’t know how he’d react if you rejected him; in light of that, he never said anything to you, just an awkward look if you guys ever made eye contact, which you always gave him a confident one, followed by a wave. But all that was thrown out the window right now. He was too shocked that you were standing in front of him to hear what you’d said; your face had one of those optimistic looks, hands sitting on his desk in the library as your arms squished your tits together, leaning over a bit to look at him.

“Hello, earth to Choso, you there?”

“Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Your skirt sat particularly short on your hips today, your belly button ring gleaming with a little heart at the end, but his eyes drifted to your waistline, a little bit of a pink fabric peeking ever so slightly out the top of your denim-

“I said, “Hey, Choso! What’s up?””

“Oh, sorry. Not much, how about you?”

“Oh, nothin’; saw you were sittin’ alone and wanted to come say hi; that okay?”

It was more than okay. He had to shift in his seat, boner becoming irritably hard against his thigh.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Uh, wanna take a seat?”

“Sure! So, whatcha workin' on?”

“Oh, I’m just studying for the statistics exam.”

“That class is super hard! I feel like I’m not getting any of it.”

He took that as his one-way ticket to testing the waters with you.

“I could, um, tutor you if you want.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

You perked up, hand touching his arms, tits calling out as you shifted towards him in the seat. He couldn’t take his eyes off them, but he knew he had to focus if this was gonna work at all.

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Perfect, when are you free?

He was free anytime for you.

“Uh, I’m free after classes; what about you?”

“Hmm, well, I have a sorority meeting at six tomorrow, so that probably won’t work, but then, ooo, I have cheer practice on Thursday, ugh, and I can’t forget Nobara’s party on Friday!”

“So, Wednesday?”

“Perfect! We’d just have to do it after my nail appointment at 3.”

He looked at your nails; nothing looked bad about them, so he was confused. He hadn’t realized how busy you were, which explained why you didn’t have a boyfriend. But that only made him feel worse.

“I think your nails are nice like that?”

You were blushing now, bringing a hand out in front of you two.

“Ya think so? I was thinking of changing the color; I've changed my mind since last week.”

Your phone got a ring; he noticed it was Mai, a girl he’d often see you walking around with. Happily, you answered it.

“Hey babe, what's up?”

He couldn't hear what Mai was saying to you on the phone, but fuck, he wished you'd answer the phone like that for him. That's when it struck him that he hadn't even-

“Sorry about that! She had to tell me about this crazy thing one of our sisters did.”

“Sisters?”

“Yeah, like in our sorority, silly! Anyways, gotta blast, but I enjoyed our chat!”

You pulled a pen out of your purse along with a piece of gum; after unwrapping it and putting it in your mouth, you grabbed Choso’s hand, writing down your phone number.

“There ya go, put it in fast so it doesn’t wash off, 'kay? Bye, cutie!”

With that, you walked away. See, this is where Choso was fucked; he had to think about when he should text you, now, later today, or Wednesday? That and his boner. He hurried up and shuffled to his and Yuuji’s dorm room, using his backpack to cover his crotch.

Nobody got me feeling this way.

“YOU GOT HER NUMBER?”

“Yes, but it’s because I’m tutoring her.”

“So, you and her, alone. “Studying”.”

“Yes, Yuuji, now fuck off!”

When Choso told Yuuji about the exchange earlier, he was convinced you were on something.

“So, she just randomly walked up to you? Isn’t that weird?”

“Is it that foreign for someone to want to talk to me?”

Yuuji looked him up and down, giving him that look. Choso scoffed and continued typing up his essay. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, if he was being honest. He tried his best to put off texting you, but that lasted all but 4 hours.

“Hey. It’s Choso.”

He sighed as he threw his head back. He was feeling a bit stupid, to be honest. For all he knew, you had been dared to talk to him, or it was a little game you came up with. Still, he knew it wasn’t in your character to do something like that, but his self-loathing told him otherwise. All of a sudden, though, his screen lit up.

“haiiii <3 wednesday still good? :3”

“Yeah, what time?”

“let’s do 5, 'kay?”

“Sounds good.”

“yay! see you then :p.”

When Wednesday came around, Choso was nervous all day. Yuuji teased him for it, saying there was nothing to worry about; you guys were only “studying.” Choso had seen you in class with the usual demeanor and look, but instead, today, you gave him a wink as you walked by, which went straight to his dick. It had been 4:55, and he was pacing his room, trying to mentally and physically prepare to be alone with you for the next hour or so. But then five came, then 5:05, then-

A knock at the door, which he was praying, wasn't Yuuji coming back to the room; he told Choso earlier he was gonna spend the night out ‘In case something happened.’ Much to Choso’s bliss, it was you, panting a bit.

“I'm so sorry! I spilled my smoothie on my other top, so I had to change, then I ran over as fast as I could! You’re not too mad at me, are you?”

Choso had realized you had a different shirt on when he opened the door. This one was a lower cut, your cleavage on full display, the bottom short cropped. Damn, you looked good.

“You’re fine; come in.”

“Ooo, thanks!”

You walked into the room, and he waited for you to say something; his room was pretty much clean, except for a pair of socks Yuuji left on the floor. Instead, you smile at him, then bend over to set your purse and books- fuck, you bent over. Choso looked at every single item in the room, anything to not stare at your ass in his peripheral vision. Quickly, you got up and turned around, Choso flustered as ever.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Uh, no…let’s get started.”

An hour passed, and Choso was shocked at his level of resolve. He tried his best to help you and pay attention to the papers in front of you, but fuck, your tits looked great from this angle.

“All done! I think this is the best I’ve ever done! Thank you so so much!”

You wrapped your arms around him, bringing him into a hug that made his breath rapid. You pulled back from him now, still hugging him, as you looked up at him with those doe eyes of yours. Choso was much taller than you, so he was getting quite the view, but that came with him looking the most flustered he’s ever been. You let go with a giggle, walking over to sit on his bed. He watched you sit back on your hands, legs slightly open as your chest poked out. God, you looked cute, even better that you were sitting on HIS bed.

“Hey, Choso?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help with something.”

“What’s up?”

You got me touchin' on your body…

He walked over to you with a confused look on his face. What could you possibly want? You guys had already studied, which is what you both agreed to; maybe another class-

You opened your thighs to him, panty-clad pussy on full display.

He was about to fucking die. He couldn’t help but pinch himself; he had to be dreaming. It was already surprising to him that you were in his room, but you practically asking him to touch your pussy was an enigma. You pulled him forward by his shirt, his face up to yours.

“That is, if you wanna.”

Choso started melting, but he wouldn’t let this opportunity pass him by. With urgency, he dropped to his knees, positioning himself on the floor between your legs, both draped over his shoulders as he pulled you closer to him. God, he could smell you; it was making him hungry. Then there was your thong soaked from your wetness, leading him to wonder how long you wanted this. The print of your lips against the fabric was about to send him over. He brought his hands up your legs, the feeling of your plush thighs making him ache, all the way up to your hips, where he flipped your skirt up. He wasted no time grabbing the edge of your panties, backing up to pull them down your legs. You opened up a little more for him, soaked pussy on full display. He was dreaming, he was dreaming, he was dreaming. He experimentally brought his fingers up to spread your lips apart, precum dripping out of you. He almost passed out, but that was the last thing he needed to start his mission.

Choso brought his lips down to your pussy, lapping up all of your juices, then fucking his tongue into you. You were moaning, body arching as you found your fingers in his hair. Fuck you tasted good. He brought his tongue to your clit, circling the bud slowly, making the most out of this situation and simultaneously making you whimper.

“Choso….”

You sounded so fucking good. Every moan of his name went straight to his dick, which was looking to rub against anything to get some relief. He brought his fingers up and slipped them inside you, making you groan loudly. He explored your walls carefully, but it wasn’t until he curled his fingers that he really got a rise out of you.

“Fuck, right there, don’t stop!”

He was a damn good listener. He pumped his fingers in and out of you as your body jerked, begging to cum. He was in disbelief; he was the one making you feel like this. Moan like this. Cum like this. It came hard, fingers gripping his hair in a way that brought him out of his hazy state. And fuck, as you came down, you rutted your pussy against his tongue, mouth still opened and eyes rolled back. Choso was in fucking heaven. You were panting on his bed, half-naked, back still arched; you were a sight to see. You began to come back to earth, sitting up on your hands again, pussy most likely staining the sheets, but it’s not like he fuckin' cared.

“Come here.”

Your usual bubbly demeanor left the second you came, grabbing Choso by his shirt and bringing him down to kiss you. You opened your legs so he could position himself between them, kissing him intensely now. Instinctively, he brought his hand up to your tits, groping them through the fabric of your shirt, pinching your nipple once he found it. He ruts his hips against yours, making you groan into his mouth. Fuck, you were so hot, all of his senses were filled with you, he was gonna lose his-

I know I'd rather be complacent.

He fucking came on himself. Simultaneously, your phone began to ring, the same tone as the other day when Mai called you. With a pout, you walked over to his desk to grab your phone. God, he praised himself for wearing back sweats that day. Luckily for him, it didn’t seem you noticed, picking up the phone and smiling. Just like that, you were back to your usual self.

“Hey, hey!”

Mai said something to you as Choso went to his drawer, already looking for a set of underwear and pants to replace the ones he accidentally soaked. You were pouting now, tilting your head to the side as you talked to her.

“But Maiiii, I’m doing something super important!”

You looked at him from head to toe, smirking as you continued talking. Fuck, what were you guys talking about?

“Ugh, fine, but you owe me! See you in a bit.”

You hung up the phone and walked over to him, a sad look on your face as you wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your head into his chest.

“You gotta go?”

“Yeah, but I really don’t want to!”

“It’s fine. You should be ready for the test on Thursday.”

You bent over to pick up your purse and books again; this time, he really couldn’t look because he knew his dick would probably betray him. You put your heels back on, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Bye, cutie!”

“Um, bye.”

Choso took a shower as soon as you left, in which he had to relieve himself from the events of today. It’s like he couldn’t get your taste you out of his head; every time he tried to focus on his essay, you were there. It didn’t help when he found your thong on the floor beside his bed. Shit, he hadn’t even thought to put them back on you. Quickly, he texted you, letting you know you forgot them.

“oopsie :3 consider them a gift ;)”

Fuck, you were dangerous.

Girl, I'm so glad we're acquainted.

Baby, you're no good.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Shut the fuck up, you're gonna wake the whole hall!”

“Let me get this straight, you fucked her?”

“No, yes, well, not exactly. I, you know…”

“Awe shit, she sucked your-”

“NO, YUUJI, JESUS.”

“So, what did you- Holy shit, you gave her head!”

Choso became flustered, never really having a conversation with Yuuji about his sex life, but Yuuji was more than open about his.

“Yes, I gave her head.”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up! You’re too damn loud!”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s not like I didn’t believe in you or anything, but a girl like that? I probably would’ve cum on myself.”

Now, Choso knew you were busy, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to see you again. He’d remembered everything you said you had to do, so he figured he’d talk to you again at Nobara’s party. He was initially going because Nobara was a mutual friend through Yuuji, but now, he had a way better reason. You guys had seen each other around the halls Thursday, you giving him a wink every time you saw him, and he’d return it with a blush and grin. He hadn’t texted you either, trying to be considerate of your time, but as Friday afternoon came along, you appeared to be distant with him. He was nervous at this point. What if he was over-analyzing things? Just a quick fuck to get each other’s rocks off? Then, unfortunately, the thought came to mind that maybe you had realized he came on himself, which hurt his feelings pretty bad. I mean, he couldn’t help it; spontaneous oral on the girl he’d liked for months now, he was already in bad shape to begin with. But, fuck, he missed you.

All my homies think I'm crazy 'cause I'm thinkin' 'bout us lately.

Nobara’s party could be heard down the street, some AirBnb, all your sisters put in on. Choso couldn’t lie; it was pretty nice, a large house with at least eight bedrooms, a pool and basketball court in the back, and balconies on almost every window. He and Yuuji had shuffled their way into the house, Yuuji immediately looking for something to drink that was far from water. Once he found a bottle of tequila, he poured him and Choso a couple of shots, both throwing them back like it was nothing. Yuuji seemed to know everyone at this party, sparking conversation with damn near anyone that walked by. He and Choso found their way to the backyard, sitting in the little patio section next to the pool.

“So, did you text her yet?”

“No, I’m pretty sure she’s upset with me about something.”

“Cause she’s been giving you the silent treatment?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, she’s obviously not giving it to him.”

But really, if I could, I'd forget about you.

Yuuji pointed to you on the other side of the pool, talking to some guy. You held a cup, presumably with alcohol, but what you were wearing was the kicker. You hadn’t bothered to wear a top, just your string bikini covering your tits, which wasn’t doing a very good job of covering them up. Then there were your shorts; they were basically underwear with how high they came up, the underside of your ass on display. You were leaning into the guy, obviously in deep conversation. The guy, however, was getting an eyeful; he couldn’t even make eye contact with you because he was staring so intently at your chest.

You got me puttin' time in.

Choso couldn’t lie, it pissed him off real bad. He couldn’t tell if it was because you were talking to this guy and not him or because the guy was looking at you so inappropriately; it wasn’t like he was one to talk. But his jaw locked as he saw the guy slip a hand onto your waist as you stumbled a bit, and you didn’t stop him.

“She’s free to do what she wants.”

“Yeah, she’s doin’ what she wants, alright. Your face was in her pussy on Wednesday, and she’s probably gonna do the same to him tonight.”

Nobody got me feeling this way.

Yuuji’s comment had put a fire under Choso’s ass. Immediately, he got up from where he and Yuuji sat, heading straight towards you.

“Told you, you were jealous, bitch!”

Now, Choso wasn’t the confrontational type, but three shots in, he felt a little bit of that liquid courage. He’d closed the gap between the patio and the pool quickly, focused on getting to you; as he walked up, he could hear you giggling at whatever that fucker was saying. You turned your head in surprise, an awkward smile on your face as Choso grabbed your arm.

“Gonna borrow her right quick.”

Choso could hear the guy cursing him out in confusion as he walked away with you, but if anyone was confused, it was you.

You got me touchin' on your body….

Choso led you up the stairs as you rushed to keep up, spilling your drink a bit. He found an empty bedroom, walked you into it, and locked it behind him.

“Choso, what the actual fuck?”

“What are you doing, huh?”

“What am I doing? What am I doing? Motherfucker, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you haven’t talked to me in days. Then you pull me in here, like I’m the bad guy or something, fuck, did eating me out mean anything to you?”

“Of course it did! I haven’t texted you because I wanted to give you space!”

“I could’ve made time for you! I don’t wanna hear your shitty excuses as to-”

To say that we're in love is dangerous…

Your sentence was cut short by Choso pulling you into a kiss. You were fucking mad at him, sure, but you wanted to fuck him more than anything. That’s why you let him lay you on the bed behind you, mouth coming to kiss you, even deeper this time. He pulled back to undo your top, allowing your tits free.

“So, who the fuck was that?”

He brought his lips down to your nipple, sucking it as you moaned softly.

“A friend, what are you, jealous?”

He sucked the other one, massaging your tits as you watched him intently.

“Depends.”

“On?”

But, girl, I'm so glad we're acquainted.

Choso began to move his way down, sucking the skin of your stomach as he brought his hands down to hook into your shorts. He had them down to your ankles, pulling them off of you.

“I’m your friend too, no?”

“Something like that.”

He undid the strings on your bikini, throwing them somewhere in the room. He brought his face down to you, kissing your inner thighs to tease you.

“You let all your friends eat your pussy?”

Ever since I met you, I couldn't believe what you did.

You couldn’t answer his question, body reacting to the kitten licks he was giving your clit. Choso was a bit more familiar with you now; he knew you liked it when he fucked you with his tongue and that you moan a little harder when he pressed his tongue harder on our bud. But, god, you were intoxicating. He missed the taste of your pre-cum on his lips, shamelessly saturating his whole face with your juices. That is until he pulled his face back, teasing you.

“Answer me, princess.”

“No, I don't.”

That made him hungry, greedy even. His face was back on you, fucking his tongue into you as he pinned your hips down, watching you squirm from the pleasure. The pleasure he was giving you.

Choso picked up the pace of his tongue, his fingers finding their way to your pussy, curling them as he sucked on your clit. One hand still on your hips to keep you still; it was all in vain because when you came, your body came undone. You buck your hips into his touch, moaning his name as you let him suck you through your high. You were fucking beautiful. He pulled up to look at you, smirking as he saw your tits rise and fall from all the panting you were doing. He figured it wasn’t too bad to give you another orgasm; you looked so fucking hot coming down that he couldn’t resist drinking your cum as he brought his thumb to your clit. You were on fucking fire, still recovering from before, and now he was bringing you up to his face. He pinned you down, devouring you instantly.

Now, Choso felt a little adventurous, bringing his hands up to rub your nipples between his fingers while you fucked his face. You didn’t know where all this nerve came from, presumably because he’s made you cum twice now, the third one about to join. But you honestly didn’t give a fuck. If he had the balls to eat you as good as he was doing, you could care less. Because his tongue was just too damn distracting. You began to grind your pussy on his face, not even considering his ability to breathe; it’s not like he was concerned about it. You were moaning his name like a symphony, pulling them out of you more frequently as you felt your body giving in again.

“Choso, I’m, I, fuck!”

So comfort me…

Choso smirked into your pussy as you came, falling over onto the bed immediately. He was kissing you now, soft and sweet, like he didn’t intend to fuck the shit out of you. With a careful hand, he brought your leg up, pulling it away from the other so he could get in between them. He enjoyed the view of you, spent and gasping for air, bucking your hips slowly as you waited for him to fuck you. As he began removing his clothes, he continued this little conversation.

“Hm, that doesn’t make sense then, does it?”

“You’re more than a friend, Choso.”

At this point, he’d taken everything but his boxers off, dick almost stabbing out the front of his briefs. He took them off quickly, bringing his body back up to sit on top of yours. He kissed you as he fingered your pussy again, making you squirm under his touch. Messily, he brought your cum out of your pussy, rubbing it over his shaft as he looked down at you.

“More than a friend, huh?”

Choso kissed your neck as he slid his dick in, holding your hips as he rolled his into yours. He was painfully slow, pulling out to sink back in. Fuck, it was torture.

“Yes, Choso! Now fuck me, please!”

“No problem.”

He slammed his hips into yours, making you groan. He gripped you tightly as he fucked you, forehead meeting yours so he could see your pretty face as you took him so well.

“When was the last time you got fucked?”

“Months ago.”

“So, you decided you just wanted me to eat your pussy one day?”

He began that slow pace again, scratching his back as he reached the deepest parts of you.

“No, I liked you for a while! Thought you didn’t like me ‘til I met you in the library!”

He couldn’t fucking believe it. This entire time you’d been waiting for him to make a move, and he was too fucking pussy to do it. Well, he’ll make it up to you now by fucking your pussy. He hit that sweet spot inside you as you moved your hips to meet his, hands brushing through his hair as he gave it to you right where you needed him. And god, you were sexy. You pressed your tits against his chest as he fucked you into the bed, practically screaming his name every time he’d give you a hard thrust to get a rise out of you.

“I want you, princess.”

To be fair, you hadn’t really entertained any of the guys who wanted you; they’d just ogle you, but you wanted someone who’d claim you. Make you his. And Choso was doing it. He fucked you like no one had ever done before, sucking hickeys all over you that you were sure you didn’t have enough concealer to cover up. Then, there was the way he’d moan into your ear. Sometimes your name, but mostly baby, princess, beautiful. He was taking you higher and higher, and you didn’t wanna come down.

“Then, I’m yours.”

Ain't no rush from me.

That was enough for Choso. He fucked you faster, keeping your hips still so he could fuck you how you needed it. Your body was practically begging to cum again, all but throwing yourself at him. He prayed you’d cum soon because he’d be down for the count here shortly, panting into the side of your neck as he took you. And take you, he did, gripping his shoulders as you moaned his name into the room, eyes rolling back and mouth wide open as you came for the third time that night. You honestly didn’t know you had it in you, nor did Choso, because he was right behind you, gripping the headboard as he fucked you through his orgasm, whimpering your name as he fell to pieces inside you. Your pussy was like fucking heaven, taking his cum so well as your hands fell to your side, too fucked out to move.

I’ll keep on touchin' on your body. To say that we're in love is dangerous…

Choso fell beside you, exhausted as ever. He was grateful he’d taken precautionary measures and relieved himself before he came to the party cause he surely would’ve cum the second he felt your pussy. He looked over at you; he could tell you were pretty damn tired; who wouldn’t be after he made you cum so many times. So, he helped you put your clothes back on, carrying you down the stairs and out to his car. He shot Yuuji a text to let him know he was leaving, choosing to leave out the details of what he had been doing for the past hour and a half. After getting you in the car, he got in the driver’s seat and started it.

“Ima take ya home, okay?”

You perked up a little, grabbing his arm and wrapping around it.

“Wanna go home with you!”

“Whatever ya want, princess.”

Choso gripped your thigh as he drove off, returning to his dorm. He carried you to his room, removing your clothes and helping you get into one of his t-shirts. Both of you in the bed, he pulled you into his chest, letting you get comfortable. You look up at him, smiling a bit as you yawn.

“Night, baby!”

You kissed him quickly and laid back down, drifting off to sleep.

‘Baby’, huh? He could get used to that.

But, girl, I'm so glad we're acquainted.

♱ the song used in this story is acquainted by the weeknd. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

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janumun · 9 months ago

Text

A Lemurian’s Guide to Love (LaDS Rafayel – General NSFW Headcanons)

Rated: NSFW/18+

Tags: oral and vaginal sex, body worship, fingering, praise kink, facial, hand kink, Rafayel shenanigans, allusions to spoilers for Rafayel’s myth dates, certain ASMRs and his character story

Words: ~3k

Author’s Notes: The chokehold this man has on me (!!!) has led me to exploring Rafayel’s sexual foray as well as smidges of how I imagine his relationship to progress with his beloved in these headcanons.

Please take careful note of those tags and rating and proceed at your own discretion!

With that said, I hope you enjoy your read.

Rafayel has stood by and waited for you; over the course of several years — from that fated meeting and the result: a promise borne and broken — and through the descent of the sands of time.

And while he likes to consider himself a patient man — and to a degree, he has been just that; endurance incarnate over the course of those long, arduous years without his beloved at his side — when he does finally come across you, Rafayel finds his resolve ripple, and then gradually implode, into paper-thin fragments of yearning and fond desire.

From how Rafayel oft presents his public persona to the world — cool and dispassionate; a tepid smile on the ready for strangers who wish to garner his favour or attentions, one wouldn’t even think to scratch past that surface. The task of avoiding unnecessary engagements, especially since his return to Linkon City a few years prior, preceding his debut as an artist, is one he finds particularly cumbersome.

But during intimate moments, reserved for just the two of you, you see that exact same Rafayel — that handsome, charismatic artistic talent plastered, glossy, across covers of magazines and billboards — mould into silly scowls. A flair for the dramatics the minute he senses your attentions are not his alone for the taking. Ridiculous and feline-like in his excuses of demands from his ‘bodyguard’, to allow him her company.

After an endurance survived this incredibly long, he finds that in certain matters, he can no longer wait.

Great Lemurian entity he may be, but his habits fit firmer akin to a cat’s rather than any fish you’ve kept as a pet.

He likes to tease and prod at you, wind you up and then, burst into subdued laughter the moment you take his bait. He’s frighteningly adept at stringing you along to his whims, a certain boyish charm you’ve never seen him utilize on any of his vast majority of fans in public.

He loves to drag you out to impromptu sea-shell collecting ‘dates’ along the shores of Whitesand Bay, to capture the perfect pearlescent pink and silvers, to grind into paint on days he moans of “not having enough inspiration to paint’.

Tows you along for long drives in the vermillion convertible he was provided by Thomas, purchased from Rafayel’s private funds [the correct color he insisted on getting for the car before a poor Thomas was finally able to fulfil his request].

Had you both stranded miles away from home once, when he had a punctured tire and ‘forgot’ to ensure he had a spare to change, in case of emergencies.

And when you biked him back the rest of the way on a rental bicycle, you had the very nagging suspicion he wasn’t too upset about the mishap as he hummed an odd tune, seated behind you. Bodies close enough you felt the gentle vibrations of his voice deep within your bones, along with the steady movement of the tires hitting the paved road.

Truly a feline more than any amphibious creature.

A wondrous man, a delightful dissonance of character.

That very same man, when the two of you hold each other for the first time:

His digits scour a delicate path across your face, your jaw, down your neckline; Rafayel is incredibly, uncharacteristically quiet the first night you are his. Bathed a sterling blue under the watery gaze of the moon. Save for the thick hitch of his breath with the unveiling of bare skin, he is mute.

His eyes, however, a crisp indigo, seem to set an inextinguishable fire to the rest of your clothes.

He observes — engraves into memory — first with his gaze, and then, his fingers follow. Long, tapered digits mapping the shape of your breasts, thumb denting gentle at the peaks of them. A grip he tests, firm, against the supple flesh of your waist, flaring outwards into the soft squish of your hips.

He makes a sound then; incoherent, incomprehensible. Perhaps, an unconscious break of language into his native Lemurian tongue; the hoarse, barely compacted passion of it, however, conveyed to you in feelings.

You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Your first night is incredibly long, Rafayel shows you truly what it means to be made love to, you nearly weep of joy and pleasure.

He has waited, oh he has pined and wanted, for so long. It’s a surreal and soul shattering experience for him, just the blessing of you naked underneath his fingers alone, has all of Rafayel’s pretenses unravelling, all masks and facades falling away.

The first time, there is no teasing, no hiding.

Rafayel is immaculately thorough in his exploration of your body. His fingers; his preferred medium of following the swells and dips of his canvas — your body.

Unfortunately, and yet so very delightful for you; he takes his time sketching across your body throughout the night, providing no chance of rest or relief from the torrential waves of pleasure he crests through your body. His eyes trained fast on your face, for every slight quiver and break of you, witnessing your response to each single pinpoint of pleasure his fingers brush against.

Responding obedient to pleas of “oh, there, right there, Rafayel.”

This very first time, the sounds of you alone, moaning his name, could bring him to completion but he resists. Your pleasure, first and foremost, in his near-tunnel vision.

When the calls of his name upon your lips become unbearable, with the curve of his index and middle up into your warm wetness, Rafayel caves, like sand carried back into the depths of the sea, underneath the unrelenting break of waves. Long fingers indenting into pliant thighs as he cleaves them up and apart for unobstructed access to your weeping slit and presses a parched tongue to lap up your essence.

Curling his tongue up into your fluttering walls as his fingers dance against the tight bead of pleasure in between your legs, to the steady compresses of your thighs against the strength of his shoulders.

Rafayel adores and encourages your honesty in bed.

Ready to slow down when and if you tell him how overwhelmed you are. Takes you faster when you beg him to make you come with his mouth. All the while, that dark azure gaze is fixated upon you, the flush beneath them turned a deeper crimson with each sound of satisfaction he triumphantly plucks out of you.

Lashes descending involuntarily, only when you crest at the peak of your pleasure and flood yourself onto his waiting tongue. The taste of a delectable sea; he laps up every single drop of until he is sated.

And it is only when you implore Rafayel to put his cock inside you does he startle at the negligence of his body; hard and leaking, soiling the sheets beneath him.

When you finally, finally connect, painfully slow; the push comes without resistance offered, from how wet he has had you from his ministrations, for a good part of the night.

Rafayel has to struggle to breathe at the sensation of your warmth around him, tight, herculean control the likes of which he hasn’t ever had to scrabble for, ever in his life. To not just spill the moment he is inside you.

Her pleasure, I want to feel it. I want to make her feel good.

Still the sole thought behind that glazed, hot gaze. A moment of odd, emotional vulnerability when your eyes finally lock, your hands wandering now, to cup across his face.

And when he begins to move, Rafayel needs to feel each and every single part of you with every single fibre of his own. Fingers resuming their trek of their now favorite canvas as you murmur love and praise into his ears. The weight of a breast hefty against one large palm, the other with his fingers intertwined through yours as he propels into you.

Both of your releases, one and the same; as his eyes remain on the scrunch of your brow, just before he too falls, burying his face against the crescent of your neck.

Rafayel’s style of love-making is firmly passionate.

It is emotional, relieving and often times fun. He is incredibly adept at reading your cues and adjusting his pace according to your wants. Sex, in his mind, is an activity, as deserving of time and patience as his art — an intricate worship — and hence he usually requires the two of you have those several, long hours to spare before he gets to undressing you. Quickies, as such then, he isn’t a massive fan of.

Neither public spaces — a private dressing room at one of his events, requiring the two of you to be out within a certain time period — no matter how desperate or wanting he might be. Silencing your own protests with a long, hushed kiss and a skewed mischievous, flushed smile that has your heart quivering inside your chest. “Be a good girl now and wait,” he remarks before setting your disheveled collar back in order. The graceful sweep of his hand; for you to take, once you are done, ready to escort you out into the venue.

Open but private spaces, however, where you have time to spare and none to disturb, his private beach behind his home, is where you might find yourself spread wide across soft cloth. The cool waves of the shore lapping gentle at your tightly furled toes while Rafayel’s mouth works at the slick in between your legs. Truly his idea of a well-enjoyed romantic date.

On the note of basking in the benevolence of seas, Rafayel loves giving oral as much as he enjoys receiving it.

He isn’t incredibly vocal when it comes to giving voice to his desires, for having your mouth on him, often because he is more than happy [and engrossed] to have his mouth do all the talking (and lapping), while you luxuriate underneath the feel of his tongue and lips, like the [his] Queen you are. He loves servicing you to completion, no matter how much his tease of a foreplay may point to, otherwise.

It is only when your mouth takes him in for the first time, on your request do you make the delightful discovery of Rafayel’s little give-aways. The quiver of his fingers threaded firm through your hair. The clench of a fine toned abdomen, ripples of tight pleasure splaying across his torso.

“You’re doing so well, baby— hah, just like that. What have you done to me? You’re so good.”

The drop of his jaw, the fine, dark dusting of red smeared across his cheeks and ears. His slow, stuttered groans and pants. A deliberate suckle at his tip has him throwing his head back at the sensation, fingers spasming against the back of your skull. Your own resistance shattering and you take him in whole, the moan that chokes out of Rafayel’s throat in reward for your efforts is heaven enough, you keep returning for more.

Rafayel is loud and has no shame in showcasing his love and desire for you through the sounds he makes, just for you.

Part of the reason also why he prefers privacy to public displays of affection or quick sexual encounters. And he encourages just the same for you.

Be it the sounds of appreciation that leave his mouth, muffled and undulating, into your pussy or while he is inside of you, enjoying every single inch of your drenched, clenching flesh against his length.

“If you squeeze me that hard, I’m going to—”

Words fracturing apart into a long, stuttered moan he presses right against your lips. Foreheads slick with the sweat of your desires as he bears down against you. Bright blue gaze meeting yours — the gentle florid fringe of pinks — steeped in pleasure as his fingers curve about your jaw, pleading a kiss from your lips.

“My pretty girl.” A flushed devastating grin. “Let me come inside you. I want to feel the way your body clamps around me when I do. Gods, please.”

Rafayel is an immensely flexible lover. No rules are set in stone, no bedroom innovations entirely over-ruled before the two of you knock it at least once.

There is no sole lead; only the steps you weave in between you two, together. He is receptive to a wide variety of tastes and kinks; ever the most studious, eager participant, save for the rare personal boundary or two, he has set in place (see above: feelings regarding public sex).

Grasping your hand to fold a kiss against your palm as he moves within you. Bidding on sex-hoarse whispers to entrust yourself to his care while he sets to plunging your entire being into flames, pleasure so exhilarating you’re left grappling for air by the end of it all. All the while, he shapes his marks of adoration against your skin, soothing warmth to set nerves lax from all their previous exertion.

Or, when you ask it of him, supplicates himself — a willing, grinning participant — loving, puckish desire set to blaze within his dark eyes. Tracking each single move, the delicate fingers that sketch against his heaving abdomen, the hand that moves to enclose his cock in between eager digits and pump, slow: a delectable torture. And he responds in kind to your enthusiasm, if you leave his mouth unbound and able — sings for you as you so enjoy, in that rapturous voice you so adore. Lent a lascivious flavour from how his head rolls back across his neck in the throes of incoming release, the flush of him flooding down across his chest from how aroused he is for you to be doing what you are to him.

The sight of him in his entirety is enough for your own patience to wear paper-thin, drenched wet from the erotic picture he paints beneath you.

Rafayel’s house is a mess.

...Something he often brushes off as personal ‘creative choices’, declaring he finds a certain order to his disarray of things strewn about.

The colors he knows exactly where to pluck off the floor of his studio. A second draft of an upcoming painting, pinned underneath a [fish] magnet against the kitchen cabinet. A spare shirt draped across the arm of a sofa for when he wants to quickly switch out of pigment-stained clothes in between paintings.

However, he takes special care to keep his bedroom — or at the very least, on worse days, one sofa — in acceptable, spruced order. Especially so, after you start coming over to visit or stay the weekend, accompany him on days he holes himself up in his house, to pore over an artwork. Often so preoccupied, by the time he snaps out of it, several hours later: to a velvet sky outside and you scrunched up in an upright position, with your head coasting sideways at an uncomfortable angle, in your sleep.

The first and last time that happens as he carts you into his arms and off to his bedroom to tuck you into his bed and insists you retire to his bedroom on your own, the next morning, whenever you feel like dozing off. Making a point, then onwards to always have it ready and at your disposal.

For sleep and when you’re both not; tangled within each other and the sheets, cooling down from your highs.

Rafayel craves chaste physical intimacy post-coitus as he drags you into his arms, your breath warm against his chest. He despises being away from your comfort for even a moment’s breath; extra adorable and tetchy in his phase of dramatics if you try and squirm away.

Has startled you on one particular occasion; hunched, stark naked, by the door of the bathroom as you stepped out of it. A frown knit in between his brow, a disagreeable moue to that beautiful mouth and a simple, “I’m cold, warm me.”

An amalgamation of just how Rafayel is like and something else; deeper, you suspect it stems from unspoken fears of loneliness. There are nights you don’t quite understand, when his emotions run rampant and his need for physical affirmation and constant connection are strong; the man immediately soothed to rest the moment your hand is across his cheek, fingers caressing down the sculpt of his jaw. Tiring him at last into exhausted sleep. A vulnerability to his visage only you are allowed to stand witness to.

There is something so incredibly erotic about his girl when she lets him put his cock against her mouth...

Testing every single mental fortitude, he has ever had thrown up, walls of iron built over the course of centuries, crumbling at the feeling of your wet mouth against his length. Drawing him in before you swallow him, right to the base.

Taking his seed down your throat like the damn, amazing girl you are but if you pull back at just the right moment, firm fist bringing him to spill against your cheeks, traversing down the arc of your neck—

Rafayel’s thoughts frizzle into a numb void, mouth agape and panting. A scarlet flush dashed across the ridge of his cheekbones, his ears, to witness your face dirtied by smears of his cum. The sight truly untethers a carnal, primitive want in him, he isn’t able to fully parse himself.

Truly imprinted upon as the bride of the Sea God.

Your sexual sessions are more often than not, kicked off on sensual, fun notes and back-and-forths.

A stray jibe you might throw his way at one of his odd habits and he’s plucking you right off your feet. Nimble digits feathering down the expanse of your abdomen in retaliation before you’re reduced to giggles; both of your fingers catching at the other’s clothes in an attempt for dominance before you drift, natural, against the other’s mouth in soft, scheming smiles.

Or, when you reach to strike the firm muscle of his behind, the sweet, silly twist to his mouth right as he startles, an indignant, scandalized gaze he rolls your way. “Why, you—” Before you reach to grasp him by the collar and drag down towards your waiting, open mouth. Lips drawing wide into a smile as you feel his reciprocated urgent squeeze across your ass; the pads of his fingers tracing the lining of your panties beneath your skirt. “Don’t make me return the favor several fold, pretty siren.”

The bite of restive teeth he sinks into his lower lip as he hauls you up and against his rigid length. Before you reach forward, disengaging his lip, to suckle it into your own mouth. “Try me.”

The act itself leaning more into the romance of the moment and slow, deep thrusts into your body as Rafayel drifts against you. Mouthing every piece of spare skin in sight, affirmations and assurances as clear and heard as the moans that tumble from his lips.

Link to Master List

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#lads rafayel #lads rafayel smut #ns/fw text #lads smut #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace headcanons #lads headcanons #l&ds x reader #l&ds smut #l&ds rafayel #rafayel #lads x reader #janussary

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beauty-secrets-hukin · 1 year ago

Video

youtube

How I Keep my hand soft, wrinkle free, smooth, and younger looking! Hand...

#youtube #beauty #skin care #asmr

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nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

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Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Price, Ghost, Gaz)

Masterlist

Part 1 (Soap, Alex, Konig)

Captain John Price

Platonic

Won't mind, if his old friend takes a quick nap on his shoulder, as long as this old friend tolerates a cigar smoke.

If he was discussing something with the others, and you happened to fall asleep - he'll try to speak quieter to the point, where his low velvety voice turns into a full-fledged asmr session.

But if the talk grows heated and his low menacing rumble wakes you up accidentally - he'll just pull you back on his shoulder. "Sorry, darling, go back to sleep... Now back to you, you d**p sh*t!"

Will unconsciously fidget with your fingers, John can't help it: your skin is so soft - it calms him down to lightly massage and caress your hand while you are napping.

Price finds it endearing, how flustered you got, after you finally woke up and understood, how exactly have you been sleeping all this time. Once again, he has nothing against it, but he will gladly joke about it, just to see you blushing. "Of course, you can spend a considerable amount of money on this orthopedic pillow in the hope that it will help you start sleeping better. Or you can always call one of your old friends - it costs nothing..."

Romantic

John will have to fight the urge to scoop and cradle you, so that you lean against him with your full weigh, enjoying his warmth enveloping you.

Even if he has something to do - his attention will be concentrated on you. Your calm deep breaths, your fingers clasping on his shirt lightly - that is what Price consumes with his every his single fiber. Because after all, it's memories of those things that keep him alive and sane on the battlefield.

Will definitely kiss the top of your head, even if you two are not alone. Multiple times.

It's moments like these, when he remembers to take a pause, look outside the window, remember, that his war is not everything he has - there is life beyond it.

Expect to wake up with his hand on your head, fingers sinking into your hair, a warm smile blooming on his face as he notices you slowly opening your eyes. "Had a nice nap, my love? Now how about I take you somewhere, you could actually sleep properly?"

Simon Ghost Riley

(this one turned out more like a scenario, sorry)

Platonic

Ghost doesn't notice the weight of your head on his lap right away. He's seen you curl up on a bench next to where he was sitting, but you are so small and light in comparison to him, it's hard to register your head leaning against him.

He sits at the table and talks to someone, when it hits him: a strange warmth, spreading in all directions of his body from the place your cheek meet his lap.

Simon makes a little, almost unnoticeable, pause, breathes in and goes on talking.

There's a voice in the back of his head, telling him to find anything, that might resemble a pillow, for you to sleep on. It would be so much better, than his dusty jeans. And you definitely deserve something softer than his lap to rest on.

But there's nothing, that he could offer you right now to replace him. So he settles to sitting as still as he possibly could and covering the edge of the table with his hand in case you wake up and get up abruptly. Little gesture, showing how much he really cares for every squadmate, how much he values their trust.

Back on the base, you notice, some late training hours disappeared from your timetable. Your Lt may never comment on you briefly passing out on his lap, but he never forgot, you needed a bit more time to rest after the last mission.

Romantic

He might be reserved and distant with you in public. Nothing personal, just a professional attitude, a facade, if you want. But here, behind the closed doors of his room, he freezes the very next minute he hears your muffled mumbling as you drifted to sleep on his shoulder.

"Don't go. Not yet."

Simons' heart sinks. He wishes, he didn't know, what were you talking about in your sleep, but he knows. Even in your dreams, on the territory, where you can have anything, you've ever wished for - you ask only for him to stay.

In public, you are always ok with him going on missions without you. You are always collected, supportive and optimistic. But when no one is around, you let yourself cling to Ghost for a brief moment, clasp your fingers around his arm and wordlessly plead 'don't go, don't go, don't go, don't...'

As he brushes hair from your face, you slightly flinch, not waking up.

"Take me, not him."

Simon looks at your face, feeling guilt building up in his chest. He puts his work papers aside, scoops you up and carries you to his bed. There he cradles you, caressing your face till you stop mumbling, descending to deeper sleep.

You wake up the next morning alone, surrounded by his scent, as he left you his shirt. He always does that, when he leaves on a mission without you. Your gaze wanders around, till it stops on your arm. His handwriting, black pen ink, covering your skin. Never before has he done anything like this. You grab your phone and frantically make a few dozens of photos of the inscription, that he left on you. You already know, that you'll make it permanent.

The inscription says "On my way to you"

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Platonic

Kyle is actually the one to ask others to speak quieter, when he realizes, you've fallen asleep on his lap.

Will shoo away Soap, who is ready to attack you and Kyle with a myriad of 'so when's the wedding' jokes.

Gaz is also the one to actually make sure, that there is nothing hard in his pockets and that the no sharp edges of his tactical clothes touch your delicate skin. He is a very good, genuinely caring friend.

In fact, he will protect you from any person, threatening your sleep. He will even convince Ghost to come back to you with new intel or orders just a bit later, or give them to Gaz, so that he can tell you everything later.

If you work together - he will try to help you with paperwork, so that you have more time to sleep between trainings and missions.

Romantic

Kyle has that face of the happiest, most proud man out there. It's you, the one, he has been dreaming about for so long, feeling so relaxed next to him. Not only he has you - he can make you so content, you smile, while napping on his shoulder.

His eyes are glued to your face. Nothing else matters in this very moment. It's impossible to distract him with anything.

Covers you with his jacket, always makes sure that you are warm and comfortable in his hands.

Loves to surprise you with something small, every time it happens and you wake up on his shoulder. If you two were in the park - Gaz will carefully pick a flower and tuck it in your hair. If it happened in a coffee shop - he will quietly order your favorite cupcake and move the plate towards you.

Lives for that smiles appearing on your lips in first moments after you wake up. Peppers your face with kisses. "Morning, sunshine!" (says it even if it's almost midnight, and he is about to drag you to the bedroom in a few minutes)

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misasimagines · 3 months ago

Text

bathtime w/ Jiro (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: Jiro (Yuri visits, but is not the focus)

rating: SFW but suggestive. Reader is Lustful.

warnings: reader is lustful but respectful. Jiro is naked. GN reader. Reader and Yuri are not necessarily besties.

First Tokyo Debunker fic after being a dead blog for months :thumbsup:

He looked worse than he normally did. It was hard to determine his state on appearance alone, given that he normally had dark circles, a pallid tone to his skin, an empty stare, and hair that was several nights past simple bed head. However, you were familiar enough with his movements by now, how calculated and deliberate they usually were, to tell when something was different, and today they were definitely different. You had positioned yourself in Mortkranken to keep an eye on him under the not untrue guise of hiding out from Romeo and Jin, both of whom were demanding your presence for various tasks you had no responsibility to complete. Your phone lit up constantly while Romeo sent you increasingly deranged threats for not answering him. You flipped it over, screen side down.

Jiro stood at the desk in the back of the room preparing Yuri’s tea. He had a teapot in front of him and a few small canisters of tea leaves he was mixing from. You'd watched him do this plenty of times before, his actions, the sounds, even the smell of the tea was like some kind of elevated ASMR video. Today though, instead of relaxation, you felt a grating sense of wrongness. He moved slower, like through something viscous and dense, and took several seconds to decide on what teas to use when it normally seemed arbitrary he was so decisive and instant. And then it happened. He did something you'd never seen him do before. He spilled tea leaves all over the floor.

You let out a soft gasp and sat up instinctively.

He stared, expression unreadable, down at the mess and you felt a little sharp prick in your heart at how absolutely exhausted he seemed. There was no way of knowing what he was thinking, but there was a universal sense of disappointment in that sidelong stare he gave the wasted tea leaves. He stood for a second more and then lumbered across the room for the broom.

“Let me help,” you offered, hopping up from your seat and hurrying over to him.

“Why? It's not your mess,” he responded in that monotone voice of his, grabbing the broom and turning back to clean up.

“Right. I don't have to help you anymore than you have to make Yuri tea every day,” you reached for the broom and grasped the handle, not quite prepared to wrestle it from the man you regularly saw hauling corpses to the morgue over one of his broad shoulders, but threatening nonetheless.

He stared down at you, his glasses sliding down his nose. “He'll complain if I don't. It's a hassle. I won't complain if you don't clean up after me.”

You frowned at his succinct, pragmatic answer. “Maybe I just want to help you because I care about you, then.” You tugged at the broom. To anyone else, you might have felt embarrassed being so forthright, but Jiro’s bluntness rubbed off on you in his presence. Besides, it didn't feel like a great revelation to share. You did care about him, and by this point, he'd have to be in serious denial to not notice it.

Jiro stared at you a few more seconds, then relinquished the broom. “I'll get the dustpan then.” He acquiesced in a way only Jiro could acquiesce.

You scoffed quietly and started sweeping the mess into a neat pile while he shuffled back across the room to retrieve the dust pan. He returned and crouched down to hold it so you could sweep up the tea and a fair amount of dust. Looking down at him, you saw just how, dare you say, fucked up, his hair was. It was a bona fide rat's nest, there may have been rats living in it currently, and you weren't sure if the slight discoloration on his bangs was dirt or blood.

Without thinking, you reached out and plucked a little piece of fuzz from his head and flicked it into the dustpan below. He stared up at you, utterly silent. You stared back. Seconds passed as you processed what you just did and he seemed to understand it no more than you did. “When was the last time you bathed?” You finally broke the silence. There was no point in beating around the bush with him, he surely wouldn't with you.

“Hmm,” he stood up and trekked over to a trash can to dump out the pan. “Before we autopsied that anomaly with 5 heads.”

“That was on Monday.”

“Yes.”

“It's Friday.”

He turned to look at you, “Oh. It's been four days.”

Did he not know the date?? You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm yourself. “And sleep? When did you last do that?” You pressed.

Jiro blinked slowly at you.

You were going to kill Yuri, but that was for another time. This time, you had a giant, dirty, and sleep deprived Jiro to take care of. “You HAVE to take a bath and get some sleep.”

He considered this long enough to give you time to take another deep breath and prepare to nag him. “Okay,” he turned and started shuffling towards the bathroom, only to stop suddenly and put his hand against the wall to steady himself.

Rushing over, you put a hand on his arm in case he collapsed. “Jiro!”

He blinked away the dizziness, nausea, lightheadedness, whatever he was feeling in that barely reanimated body of his, and barely straightened up. He seemed to have the intention to respond to you in some way, but the energy to do so was missing. He shuffled another step forward and you went with him. If this was how it was going to be, you clenched your jaw, this was how it was going to be.

He regained enough strength on the way to the bath that you felt confident he'd be able to survive cleaning up at least. You rushed in and around getting the water up to a warm temperature, grabbing a towel, and pushing him the last few steps towards the tub.

“It would be faster to take a shower,” he commented, kicking off his shoes.

“Do you think you have it in you to stand in a shower long enough to get clean?” You retorted with a raised eyebrow. You lifted the glasses from his face and set them carefully next to the sink.

He let you take his glasses with the familiarity of having had you done it a hundred times before. A hundred times might have been a bit off, but you'd maneuvered them off his head a few times when he was nearly passed out over an operating table and when he had blood all over his hands and couldn't wipe them off himself. It was an action not unusual for you two, which is why the tilt of his head came so naturally when you reached for them. Lifting back up, he started unbuttoning his shirt. “Maybe not. I could also faint and drown in the tub.”

“That’s why I'll stand guard to check on you every few minutes to make sure you haven't inhaled lungfuls of bathwater,” you promised, avoiding looking too closely at his scarred back as he shrugged out of his shirt. You grabbed it up before it hit the ground and set it aside on the counter.

“Because you care about me?” He asked.

If a person could turn to sand and crumble away or deflate like a balloon and fly around the room making a pitiful little whining sound, you'd have done either. It was one thing to say it yourself to nag and scold him for his poor self care practices. It was another to have it thrown back at you in a way where you couldn't tell if he was teasing you or just earnestly asking. Face flushed an deep red, you turned around to give him privacy (and hide your blush) and stood at the door. “Because I care about you,” you agreed, regardless of the embarrassment.

A minute or two passed and you heard the sound of the water sloshing as he got into the tub.

You held his towel in your folded arms, facing the door intently. “Just make a noise or something every few seconds so I know you're not drowning, okay?”

He was quiet.

“Any sound,” you insisted, drumming your fingertips over your arms.

He was quiet, the water was not sloshing.

“Jiro?” You called behind you, suddenly very tense.

He didn't respond and all you could hear was your own heart hammering in your ears. He'd passed out and was currently breathing in water and soap. You'd have to haul him out of the tub and try to perform CPR, but would that work? What if you broke his sternum, could he survive that level of damage when he was already so weak? A million visions of Jiro’s untimely death flashed in your head and made your chest tighten.

You spun around, already halfway towards him before you realized he was fine.

He was resting his head on the back of the tub, looking at you with the smallest curve to his lips, his eyes shut slightly in contented amusement. He might have let out a rare bit of laughter if only he weren't so drained.

Your chest tightened and you considered a few choice words to call him for scaring you like that, but they all caught in your throat. As sweet as he looked, that barely there smile on his face, he looked so worn out and fragile sitting in that tub that could barely even fit him. You took a few steps toward him and set the towel down on the counter. “You scared me,” you admit.

“Sorry.” He responded, his smile had started vanishing, less because his amusement faded and more because the urge to sleep was becoming too strong.

You watched him for a second more and he made no move to start scrubbing himself down or washing his hair. With a sigh, you rolled up your sleeves and crouched up on your knees next to the tub. You had filled it with an absolutely absurd amount of soap and bubbles, so there was no chance of seeing much more than the top of his chest and his knees that poked out over the water. “I'll wash your hair, so take care of the rest of yourself, alright?” You pushed.

He nodded.

You filled your palm with a bit of shampoo and foamed it up between your hands before diving into his mess of knotted hair. You had seen dolls at second hand shops with fewer knots and less tangled hair, and some of those had gone through the dryer or maybe a wind tunnel. You took your time, scrubbing down to his scalp with your fingers as tenderly but insistently as you could.

Jiro relaxed into your touch, slumped so fully into the bath that you had to gently lift his head to reach the back of it. He let out a quiet hum of satisfaction when you raked your fingers up the nape of his neck. His eyes were fully closed now, his eyelashes thick and dark and brushing the tops of his cheeks. Without his mask hanging down around his chin, you could see the cute little beauty mark under his mouth. Droplets of water rolled down his neck, over the little star shaped scars, down his chest and-

His eyes opened slowly and he looked up at you. It wasn't particularly different from how he usually looked at you, and maybe that's why it felt so much more intimate than you were used to. If you let yourself get caught in these thoughts, it would recontextualize everything between you and nothing would make sense anymore. You felt paralyzed by him, by your thoughts, by your hands in his hair, by the slow rise and fall of chest and the shifting of bubbles. “You stopped,” he announced, his voice not betraying any real tone of displeasure, but you felt it nonetheless.

“Oh!” You got back to scrubbing, carefully working through the knots, carefully controlling your breathing. “Sorry,” you mumbled. You rinsed out the shampoo, dumping little rinse cups of water over his head, your hand over his eyes now both to hide his near unblinking watch and to prevent soap from getting into them.

You rushed through conditioner, getting as much of his hair as saturated as possible (you had no clue when he'd use it again, after all), and pulled your hand back to stand up. “Okay. Just finish cleaning up and then rinse that out and you'll be right as rain,” you lectured as robotically as you could. The bubbles had started to pop and dissipate and any glances down at him were revealing more that you thought appropriate to see at the moment.

He wrapped his fingers around your hand as you retracted it. His hands were wet and his fingers slightly wrinkled from being under the water for so long. He pulled your hand inward just slightly, enough to indicate he was asking you to come back, but not enough to force you or pull you down.

You settled back on your knees in front of him. He looked pitiful, in the cutest way possible. His hair dripped water down his cheeks, his entire body barely fit into this tub and still he was cramped down into it, reaching up for you like he could pull you in with him.

His lips parted slightly and the pins and needles feeling in your calves erupted.

“Jiro- AAARGG!”

You shot up, Jiro's hand slipping from yours as you turned to see Yuri pointing at and screaming at you.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?!” Yuri demanded, expression crazed with suspicion.

“I was washing his hair!” You insisted, guilt tinging your tone, and then realized you weren't at fault here. He was the culprit. Plus, he'd interrupted whatever moment you were about to have with Jiro. His second major offense. You clenched your hands into fists. “Which he hasn't done in four days since you never give him any time to take care of himself!” You snapped.

Yuri withdrew in indignation, “How dare you speak to me that way, worm!” His hand pressed to his chest, over his heart. “Jiro has 24/7 care from the world's best doctor and foremost researcher on anomalous medicine. He should be grateful!”

You were ready to throw hands when Jiro spoke up. “Yuri, I'll finish up here in a few minutes and bring you tea after.” If only he knew the amount of blood he just prevented from being spilled.

Yuri bristled and rearranged his lab coat. “You do that. I'll be in the lab and you,” he pointed at you again with distaste, “will be going anywhere but here!”

Waving an annoyed hand at him, you retorted, “Let me just wash my hands and I'll be on my way.”

Yuri glowered at you and opened the door to leave, “Don't forget my tea,” he commanded, slamming the door behind him

You positively steamed while washing your hands in the slightly cool water of the sink. You couldn't even ask “who does he think he is” because he had to announce it every five minutes. Dr. Yuri Isami, genius and visionary. Best doctor ever, blah blah blah. Distracted with frustration, you almost forgot Jiro was soaking in the tub behind you until you turned to dry your hands and leave and caught him sitting up and staring at you again.

He was running a washcloth down his shoulder and arm when he spoke, “I'll let you help me again.”

You snorted. It seemed so flippant a conclusion, and yet… you weren't ready to walk away without one last question. “You're capable of doing this yourself. Why would you let me help you?”

He considered this, wringing the washcloth out over his chest, sending a cascade of soap bubbles and water down his skin that you watched with nothing more than scholarly interest. He didn't even look at you when he answered, his voice as cool and apathetic as always, “It must be because I care about you.”

#tokyo debunker #tdb #tokyo debunker x reader #tdb x reader #tokyo debunker fluff #jiro tdb #jiro tokyo debunker #jiro x reader #jiro kirisaki

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