#putting this in the tag only bc I'm scared but you know what i will speak my truth anyway: the translation is better than the original | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

Text

Jungkook: 8:45 PM 🔞

Tags/Warnings: Adult, smut-heavy, making out, Idol!Jungkook, Fluff, Established Relationship, implied foreigner!Reader, not home AU though, Jungkook struggling hard, misunderstanding, angst with happy end, emotional smut, oral (fem. Receiving), protected sex bc this is me writing this and I teach you kids the true life lessons

Lenght: long.

AU-Masterlist

Languages are marked as English / Korean.

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He still can't believe your first time got interrupted by something as ridiculous as his manager calling him.

It's like a reminder that his career will always somehow wiggle itself between him and whatever happiness he tries to find outside of it- nothing ever truly personal for him, everything always meant to be well thought through so it fits into his public persona.

But he refuses to give you up, even knowing all of that.

Apologizing for it just feels.. odd now, like bringing up something awkward you did ten years ago that everyone forgot about anyway before you decided to rekindle the memory in their heads. But the problem here, right now, with you, is that he knows he should bring it up. Somehow. Because he's struggling hard to keep himself in check, even having had to embarrassingly rub one out in the shower this morning after you'd made yourself tea in his kitchen wearing nothing but a shirt and panties.

It's a problem.

He's hesitating to initiate anything now mainly because what if it happens again? He can't just put his phone on silent and ignore what could potentially always be very important calls from people who only want what's best for him in the long run- real life doesn't work like those movies where the protagonist throws it all away for his girl. He wants to, he truly does- but at the end of the day, he's also scared, because if he falls, he'll potentially take you down with him, and God knows how deep he'll fall with where he stands right now.

A drop from a height this high would shatter you inevitably, and he's sure he'd crack like delicate porcelain just as much by having to watch you suffer the consequences of his actions. You don't deserve that.

"..-ungkookie?" You try again, and he snaps out of his thought, looking at you.

"Hm?" He responds, looking at you next to him.

"I asked if you want me to cook for us tonight. Is that alright?" You wonder, and he nods, eagerly so, because of course he'd love to have you do something so domestic with him. He's always dreamed of being able to experience these things after all, despite his curse of being a public figure who's not supposed to appear unavailable. "Alright-!" You hum. "Gonna have to put pants on now though, gotta go get some groceries.." you whine under your breath as you stretch on the couch naked feet pushing against his thighs and oh, how your back arches-

No, bad brain. Not right now.

"I'll give you my card, hold on." He tries to save himself, getting up to fetch his wallet as you begin to laugh.

"Jungkook baby, I can cover some groceries, don't bother!" You argue softly, getting up as well before walking over to him. "You'll just have to survive some minutes without me, that's all." You tell him, hugging his middle as you put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "Also, people would think I'm a gold digger for using a black card looking like.. well, me." You joke, as he can't help but reach out to affectionately brush some hair out your face, hands holding your cheeks.

"M'sorry." He mumbles, and you part a bit from him, serious at his tone of voice used.

"Hm? For what?" You wonder, and he sighs. Why did he bring it up now? This is going to be so awkward, he already dreads it. But now that he's put the noose around his neck, he might as well stand on the chair too.

"Yesterday. Or.. day before? Technically it was, wasn't it.." he rants, before sighing. "I hate that we.. had moment, you know, and then.. nothing. Ruined." He complains softly, and you can't help but look at him affectionately. He's such a soft soul sometimes, worries about so much that doesn't even need to be worried about.

"Jungkook, it's fine." You answer.

"Not fine-" he shakes his head. "Not fine, I- ugh, I want you, you know? Want to, but now, it's awkward and I don't know how to initiate it because every time I plan to I keep thinking of that moment he called and-" he groans in frustration, head thrown back before he looks down at you. "I'm sorry." He apologizes yet again, and you laugh.

"I forgot to pack socks for this trip, that's why I'm always barefoot in your apartment here." You say, and he blinks once, twice, before he looks at you, confused but amused the same.

"What?" He questions, tilting his head for a split second and you shrug.

"Now I've made an awkward moment for myself too. We're even." You explain, and he laughs.

"Thats not how that works-" he wants to argue but he inevitably leans down to kiss you- a peck quickly deepened by you, because God knows you want him just as much. But the struggle of initiating isn't solely his alone, because you don't know how to either. All is still new with your relationship, you don't even live together at this point in time, only a week more and you'll be back home trying to figure out how to move most of your stuff to his country so you can be closer. This was all a test, after all- to see if it's worth it. If you'll be okay.

And you know now, you'll be just fine with him at your side.

"Hm I need to get going now though-" you say, trying to escape him now- but he won't let you, hands firm on the small of your back as he keeps you against him, lips chasing yours making you giggle as you lean back as far as you can. "Jungkook!" You laugh, but he just playfully bites at your neck.

"No, I'm hungry." He mumbles against your skin, and you look at him, pushing against his chest.

"Yeah that's why I have to go? Get everything to cook?" You remind him, but he shakes his head, gaze making it clear that he doesn't care for that.

"Not.. that." He tells you. "Hungry for you." He says, raising his brows and you laugh at how ridiculous he's being. How can he be both so cute but also attractive at the same time? It's truly unfair.

"You're so cute." You tease, catching him off guard to escape his grasp and run into the bedroom to get some proper pants at least. But he's faster, palm slapping flat against the wood of his door before the momentum of his move slams it into the wall with a loud noise, making both of you jump for a second before he stalks towards you.

And once the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed, you know you lost.

It's like his patience had finally snapped, his hands eagerly helping you out of his shirt, happily running his palms over your skin, warm and soft as you move around a bit to get comfortable. He sighs when his phone vibrates somewhere close- probably having fallen out of his pocket on the couch earlier, and you laugh, visibly uncaring of his misery. "Go get it." You tell him when it sounds again, and he groans out loudly as if he's in pain, angrily stomping back into the living room, where you can hear him answer the call with an annoyed tone to his voice. It surprises you when he walks back into the bedroom however, pointing to the shirt you're attempting to put back on, before he motions for you to put it back on the floor where he'd thrown it down earlier.

Just what is he thinking right now?

"Yeah, that's fine." He talks into the phone, his free hand untying the strings of your sweatpants, before he pulls on the hem, tapping your hips as if to silently ask you to lift them so he can get you out of those pants. "Not right now, but tomorrow is fine." He continues to talk to whomever is speaking to him over the phone, while simultaneously running his hand from the side of your knee, up to the hem of your underwear, the last item of clothing covering you at the moment. It's oddly exciting to see him so serious, yet clearly more focused on you than anything else.

You've never felt so adored before.

His fingers slip underneath the side of your panties, teasing you, so close yet way too far from where you'd like his hands to be most right now. And he's clearly aware of it too; if the hooded eyes and the small smirk on his lips was anything to go by. "No, right now.. I'm pretty busy. Sorry." He speaks again into the phone, thumb running over the dip between your inner thigh and your by now more than aching heat. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip for a second, before the whole thing visibly seems to edge him just as much- then tent in his pants evident.

"Alright, yeah, just- text the schedule to me and I'll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay?" He offers into the phone, moving to stand up and search for something in the drawer of his bedside table- colorful foil package pretty obviously hinting at what he means when he's said he's currently busy. "Alright, hmhm, yup- bye." He rushes out, ending the call before he throws his phone somewhere onto the shirt you'd been wearing, his eyes rolling in an annoyed manner before he takes off his own shirt, joining you on the bed.

"Did you really hang up on him like that?" You wonder, giggling when he has to sit back to slip out of his loose grey sweats as well, jumping on one foot for a bit as his other gets stuck in the fabric for a second.

"I'm not sorry." He shakes his head, crawling closer to you on the mattress to get a hold of both sides of your panties. "I've got my hot girlfriend all pretty and ready, no one can ever blame me for being needy." He shrugs, shaking his hair out of his face before he tries to pull your underwear off. "Hey come on now!" He whines almost, a stark contrast to the tattooed, muscled appearance of him currently already flushed and fully erect, straining against the cotton of his own underwear.

"Needy." You tease, and suddenly, as if you'd pushed a button, as he suddenly pulls on the fabric with more determination, successfully getting rid of the item of clothing with a gaze that screams fake innocence. Jungkook isn't new to sex, and neither are you- but it's the first time doing it with each other, which naturally places a bit of pressure onto you.

Or maybe it usually should be like that- because somehow, it all comes naturally.

When his hand finds your heat, you're already melting underneath his gaze, no words spoken as he leans further over you, catching your lips again. Only that this time, he truly seems hungry; no longer offering you fleeting pecks but desperate kisses that try and convey just how much he wants you right now. He knows that he could never truly make it clear to you though- because he himself doesn't even know if that's possible.

He's never wanted anyone so bad.

And while usually not too fond of it, his need to prove himself as the perfect lover- emotionally and physically- makes him detach himself from you for a second, before he adjusts his position, leaning down to have you lay your legs over his shoulders, hands holding your thighs apart as he lays his mouth onto your heat.

It's an entirely new experience for you, and he knows.

But luckily, if your Impatient whining was anything to go by, you're definitely enjoying yourself as he flattens his tongue over your sensitive nerves, eyes focused on you while he has to use a little strength to keep your legs apart, especially when you grow close to your first orgasm. He's eager to see it, moving away to gain a better view before one of his hands finishes the job, gaze on you as you arch your back and come undone from his actions.

And its now that he really can't take it any longer.

"Fuck I need you." He curses under his breath, finally getting rid of the last item of clothing he still had on until now, no need to give his length any form of help to get ready for you. He can't help but groan a little under his breath at how sensitive he feels, rushing the act of wrapping the condom over as to not rile himself up too much.

After all, he wants to be inside you for his own orgasm, no matter what.

"Hm I'll go slow, ok?" He asks, and you nod, hands reaching out for him, making him chuckle. "You're cute." He comments, earning a roll of your eyes in return. He lets it go for now- giving you a pass this time, but only because be truly feels needy now.

He'd love to tease you a little, make you all whiny and desperate for him, but right now, he just wants you as close as he physically can get.

Though in his haste to get onto his own road towards pleasure, he never forgets you- pride swelling as he watches you hold onto him, wanting him just as much as he wants you. He's a little sweaty already, and the sheetsbare tangled badly at this point from all your squirming, arousal already staining some parts of them but right now he really can't bring himself to care.

He uses one of his hands to aid him in finding your entrance, positioning himself to carefully push himself inside, and at this point, he just feels as if he truly became one with you. It's the last key experience in a way he's had to have with you, and now that he's in exactly that moment, things start to feel real.

"I love you." He almost whispers into your neck while he starts to move. "I'm.. so grateful you're here." He tells you, hips moving at a steady pace. "I want you to.. stay forever." He almost asks, in a way, and while you can't give him an answer to that right now, you probably will later.

After you're back with the normal thinking human beings, because right now, with his pace and strength gaining as he chases his high, your head is definitely unable to form thoughts.

In a way, he loves the sight of you like this. It's awfully sinful, a sight only he wants to ever be able to see, no one else.

He can't control his own noises at this point, uncaring of his groans of pleasure as he chases after his peak, noticing you growing antsy as well, visibly eager to cum as well. And he will make sure you'll get your attention as well- he'd never let you down, ever.

And with his hand reaching in between you both to find where he needs to be, you're gone and out; head thrown back into the pillows while he pushes himself in deep, condom filling with his seed while he slows down into almost no movement at all.

Catching his breath, he leans down to you to kiss you once more, ticking of his clock on the bedside table coming back into the background noise, as well as the cars outside from the opened window, and your breathing underneath him. His senses return one by one as he pulls himself out, moving to get rid of the condom and start the shower.

"Come on." He asks, tapping your thigh, but you just whine all grumpy at him. "Noo get up, get up- the bed's all messy and we're too.!" He laughs, all energized from his own afterglow, while you seem to be the exact opposite, having to be physically pulled into a sitting position by your wrists. Jungkook himself can't help but simply laugh, before he takes matters into his own hands, lifting you up over his shoulder-

And of course, landing a loud smack onto your butt for good measure.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader

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whenthebirdsings · 3 months ago

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the stranger in spring [ch. 1 and 2]

| MINORS DNI |

pairing: gojo x reader, gojo x you

tags: dubcon, drug use, stalking, mind control, mindbreak, very kinky and very explicit, dirty talk, degradation, yandere, possessiveness, jealousy, very toxic, god complex. literally, sadomasochism, dom/sub, daddy kink

word count: 12k+ (it won't be this long every chapter, this is just bc i'm combining two in one post.)

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58426777/chapters/148825717

It started, like many things, with a hello.

You’d been on vacation with your friends at the time. Slipping from one bar to another when you caught the blue-eyed stranger sneaking glances at you. His gaze lingering too long on the curve of your hips, hungrily taking in every bit of exposed skin and dipping to places it shouldn’t. A predator eyeing up its prey, waiting to pounce.

It was painfully obvious, but in his defense — you don’t think he was trying to be subtle. The way he’d bat his silver eyelashes at you and flash you a smile from time to time made his intentions more than clear. It didn’t help that he leered at you like he wanted you to make note of him. Brazenly drinking you in up and down, unblinking as his stare never left your lips.

Still, you played it safe. Played it coy. Pretended you didn’t notice him ogling as you engaged in boring conversations with your friends. It was only a month after your break up so admittedly, you were a little lonely — and the man was terribly, terribly attractive — but you didn’t want to make it too easy. Playing a game of push and pull, appraising him when you thought he wouldn’t notice and looking away just at the right time.

But you made sure your eyes stuck to his skin; made sure he felt the heat in them so that he would know. And he did — an eyebrow raised, the curl of his lips amused. The clock ticked close to midnight, and he still hadn’t ordered anything to drink. Seemingly only there to wait it out, to see how long it would take before your friends would depart, one by one.

And then, one by one, they did. Stepping out the door, leaving you to fend for yourself — or, well, maybe that wasn’t fully fair. Considering you were the one who reassured them you’d be fine. They told you to take care and to be careful, but you weren’t really listening. Eyes discerning the stranger’s every movement instead; catching his anticipation, the smile scratching his face when the last of them finally exited the bar.

True enough, he was quick to slip into your booth once he was sure there would be no other interruptions.

“Hi there, stranger,” he said, voice smooth like honey — and you acted like you weren’t expecting him coming as you stared up at him in surprise. “You alone?”

Well, the surprise was half-true.

You knew he was tall, but didn’t notice how tall he was until he was looming over you. Body too big, arms too long. Like this, you felt like a cornered rabbit peering up a hungry wolf. Yet the size difference only made you more excited than put off. A chill down the base of your spine as his gaze brushed past your collarbone.

“You’re not gonna buy me a drink?” you said instead of answering his question. Fingers feathering over your glass — a hint if nothing else. You spared a glance at the clock on the wall, noting the time, the hands landing on twelve. It was midnight, and you had spent the entire night playing cat and mouse that you might as well be direct.

His eyebrows shot up, but it didn’t seem like he was caught off guard. Interested if anything — like he wasn’t already, but now more so. He didn’t say much else, merely called over the bartender with a flick of a wrist. A wave, like he was used to people being at his beck and call.

“So what do you want?” he asked, warm but not overtly friendly. Leaning in but not too close; a distance just right to pull you in but not scare you off. “I recommend their margarita. One of their best, I think.”

“So says the gentleman,” you laughed. You honestly didn’t care much about the choice of drink; you didn’t have any favorites, or anything that tugged at disgust. Alcohol never stood out much to you anyway. But it got you what you wanted, at the right time, the right price. Not that you were usually the one paying. “Margarita it is. On the rocks.”

He nodded — and with another jerk of his wrist, ushered the bartender away.

“Is that just a thing for you?” you quipped, mirth in the crinkle of your eyes as you studied him from behind your glass. “Like, do you just snap your fingers and people bend to your will?”

He didn’t answer at once. There was a roll of his shoulder, a tilt of his head as he looked you over. You felt oddly exposed — walls pried apart and forced down under his gaze as he seemed to look through you instead of at you. Flecks of blue assessing every line of your face; the roundness of your cheeks, the slope of your jaw, your supple lips. Then, back to your eyes. Where he seemed to stare too long, like a hole threatening to swallow you whole.

“That would depend,” he answered, leer lowering to your slender neck now. His fingers twitched, itching to touch, to hold, to choke you out of air. But still, he leaned back. Composed if not smug in the upturn of his chin.

You blinked. “On what?”

“Well.” He paused, let the silence sit seemingly because he liked to keep you waiting — liked you on bated breath, hanging on to his every word. “On whether or not you like men who can snap their fingers and bend people to their will.”

“Very smooth,” you said, dry and sarcastic, though you couldn’t suppress the flush from warming your cheeks.

You didn’t know what it was — if it was the drinks you had prior or the intensity of his stare as he took you in. Like you were precious; gold made to be appreciated, to be beholdened. A toy he could ruin with the tip of his fingers. He reveled in you like he’d known you for eons too long, even when it had only been five minutes.

Either way, red traveled from your face and upwards still to the shell of your ear. Your hand scratching them, nervous and self-conscious as you sounded an exaggerated cough to make yourself seem less fidgety. Not that it helped much, his amusement only intensifying as he broke into a laugh.

“Worth the sarcasm,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes half-heartedly. But then the chuckles died down, leaving in its wake only tense disquietude as the air around you simmered. You squirmed — and pretended not to notice his foot angling close, boot kicking the bone of your ankle. “Seriously though, it’s just because one of my friends owns this bar. So the staff here see me as a familiar face.”

“Ah, so you just have connections,” you sighed, feigned disappointment as a joking lilt lined your voice. Still, there was a tremble — shyness underlying even if you tried to curb it. He seemed to perceive it; lips twitching as though to reign in another laugh. “And here I thought I landed a handsome rich man. Tsk.”

“Well, I am that, too,” he admitted. With his tone, you couldn’t tell if it was arrogance or coy posturing. Or boredom, really, if you listened close enough.

“You’re from this area then, I assume?” you asked, changing the subject as you felt everything around you shift. Awkward, like you’d stepped on a mine you shouldn’t have. “If you are, I’d like a tour. I don’t know the surroundings here very well, and I could use a…” Your eyes raked past his neck to pause at his long fingers. A moment of self-indulgence as you wondered how they would feel on you before you blinked the thought away, “friend. To guide me around.”

Want pooled in your belly, tight and spreading like fire under your skin. He waited for your permission before going for your hand — thumb ghosting over your knuckles, fingers only mildly slipping into empty spaces. It spurred you on; the heat of his palm on your skin. Blood roaring in your ears now as your body shuddered. It’s just the cold, you told yourself. Even though you could feel every fiber of your being teeming with desire from his unwavering stare.

“Not a local,” he replied, a laugh in his tune as he noted the flutter of your eyes. Lashes heavy on flushed cheeks, heady even before your margarita even arrived. “But I do know this place like the back of my hand.” He squeezed yours, as though for emphasis. Nails sending goosebumps up your arms as he grazed them along the length of your fingers. Apperceiving, savouring every callous, every shake — as slight as it were. “So yeah, I guess I could be a friend. To guide you around.”

There was a double meaning in his words, but you didn’t really mind. You knew he caught onto your drift even without a cue. Not that he needed any — you seemed just about ready to climb into his lap even though he hadn’t done much. It was the alcohol. The loneliness you weren’t used to after the break up. You were sure of it.

Or, well, you weren’t, really. Although you had meant to seduce him into bed tonight, you didn’t think you’d be this easy. But he made it easy. Terrifyingly so. A fog in your brain every time his eyes skipped past your face — hungry, hungry and hungry as though you’d been starved and deprived too long.

He snapped his fingers again, and that was when you looked up just in time to see the bartender coming by with your drink.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, thanking the bartender before turning to look at the stranger again. He seemed to watch you with a strange look in his eye; expecting, calculated almost in the way blue glinted in dimmed lighting. But you couldn’t tell because it was brief, gone like it was never there. “So, uh, I guess you’re just visiting your friend. The one who owns this bar?”

“Mm-hmm,” he affirmed. Smile too warm, too friendly. Yet for some reason, it reeled you in instead of pushing you off. “And I guess you’re just visiting too? Or are you here to see a partner or something?”

You almost scoffed at that.

“Me? Partner? Nah,” you said, shrugging him off with a wave. An odd tightness settling in your chest. “I broke up with him, like, a month ago. I’m just here on vacation with friends. They,” you paused, frowning now as confusion snuck into mind. It usually wouldn’t take you this short of a time to warm up to someone, but he made it feel effortless. Comfortable, even though it shouldn’t be, “wanted to help me get over him, I guess. Or whatever, I don’t know. Maybe they just wanted me to have fun instead of sitting around moping in my apartment.”

“Ah,” he sounded, recognition flitting past his features. He was carefully woven by the gods, you remember thinking. Every part of his face perfectly sculpted; lines too immaculate, polished and faultless. Like he was God himself. “Well.” His lips drew into a grin, wolfish and playful. “I guess you wouldn’t be here talking to me if you were already with someone.”

“Exactly,” you snorted. Tense shoulders slouching as he watched you down your glass of margarita in only a few gulps. You didn’t even notice he had ordered another one until he passed you a second glass. Pushing it to your knuckles, smiling as you accepted it. Ever so grateful, ever so obedient. “I mean. I guess open relationships are a thing. Not really my thing though.”

“Understandable.” He nodded, his grin widening behind his hand as he took in the sight of you hurriedly swallowing one glass after another. His eyes flashed, dark and dangerous — but you didn’t notice. Too preoccupied with the brush of his other hand over your wrist. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine either. It’s… annoying. And I’m jealous and possessive.”

“I’m greedy,” you admitted, a little too soon, a little too loud. Your eyes almost slid close as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Very much so.”

“I can tell — hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I think it’s attractive that you know how to drink,” he laughed. Throwing his arms up in defense as you pouted at him in return. Disappointment poured over you at the lost of warmth around your fingers when he pulled away— gaps between them empty again, almost unbearably so. But you ignored it. Maintained eye contact instead as he leaned back into his seat. Sinking into cushion.

“My name is Gojo Satoru,” he supplied, head slanted slightly to the side. “You can call me Satoru. Or, well, you can call me a lot of names, really.”

Your lips pulled into a smile, teasing as you batted your eyelashes at him seductively. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“You’re gonna have to stay around and find out,” the man — no, Satoru answered. His attention briefly gone as he tugged at a loose strand around his sleeve. “What about you? What should I call you?”

You pressed your lips together. Tight and unwilling. The taste of the margarita sat heavy on your tongue, too sweet and too sour all at once.

“I’m not sure if I’m comfortable enough to give out my name yet,” you said. Lied through your teeth. It was odd, how reluctant you were to let slip such a thing when you already told him about your break up and the reason for your visit. But a name had a weight to it, a certain sentiment you weren’t sure was okay for you to just hand out to strangers just like that.

You didn’t think you were going to see him after tonight anyway. But he was fun to be around — and he was good-looking. Too good-looking for his own good actually. You highly doubted a guy like him didn’t have a crowd of people wrapped around his finger. He looked like he was used to drowning in attention, like his daily life consisted of people just falling to their feet for him simply because he breathed in their direction. Not that you blamed them. The man was a sight to gaze at; ethereal beauty personified.

But the thought only served to make you more wary — to be only one of many. You didn’t want to be one of the people grasping for an ounce of his affection, for the briefest of a glance. He looked like he’d brush you off anyway; outside of sex, you’d be nothing but dust. Flakes of dried skin lingering too long on his clothes before he’d shake you off sooner or later. And you’ve gone through enough share of disappointment to know better than to expect anything more.

This was safer, you decided. Gave you more peace of mind. You might get too attached if you weren’t careful enough.

“Fair enough.” He nodded. Fortunately, he didn’t push on. Not that you would have stayed if he did. “As long as you know mine, I suppose it doesn’t matter if I don’t know yours.”

So long as you know what to scream, the mischievous grin on his face seemed to whisper. The words are left unsaid, but you could hear them in the way he crooned, sweet and soft. In the way lust flickered in his gaze, a touch of something feral in blue as he spared himself an indulgent glance at your cleavage. Coming from other men, you would have ran out the door in an instant. Coming from him though — oddly enough, your feet rooted you on the spot even though a sliver of fear caused you to shiver. It was like something had compelled you to stay, and so you did.

Maybe he’s that hot, you laughed at yourself as you shrugged off the feeling. The irony was not lost on you — especially when you remember chastising your friend just an hour ago about not letting attractive men off the hook just because they were attractive. Maybe you weren’t so immune to them, after all. At least not with this one.

“But I am curious,” he said, breaking you out of reverie as you blinked to look up at him. He gently shoved a third glass of margarita into your hands — and your fingers clenched around it so quickly it felt like instinct. Muscle memory. “What do you do for a living? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You grew sheepish. “I work a boring corporate job,” you replied, a sigh in your voice. “It’s nothing interesting. At least not interesting enough that I can just snap my fingers and people will bend to my will.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest. Even so, he made no move to give you any details concerning his work life. You didn’t probe; you suppose it was only fair, seeing as he had already given you his name and you denied him yours.

“I figured as much,” he said, smug confidence in the way he threw his head back. “I like playing this guessing game when I see strangers I’m interested in. You know, like, guess where they’re from, what their line of work is, if they’re single — stuff like that,” he explained when your features drew into bewilderment.

“Oh,” you sounded. Brows furrowing into a deep frown. “Oh my god, do I come across that boring?”

Satoru blinked. “What — oh, god, no.” So he said, but his tone lacked the apologetic trace that usually coupled this line of sentence. Instead, amusement underlaid his tenor; the smallest of a laugh like he found you entertaining. Better than boring, you suppose. “I just meant you look… pent up, is all.”

“Oh! Oh,” you sounded, again, with a tint of embarrassment this time as the emphasis in his words settled in too quickly, too heavily. Already, your cheeks burned with shame, your skin prickling as a breath caught in your throat. “Well, I guess you’re not that far off with that one. Between work and the break up and stuff, I’ve been… tense — to put it in simpler terms anyway.”

“I can help with that,” he laughed, a purr in his offer. Tempting, drawing you in like moth to fire as he leaned in a little too close. In this proximity, you could catch a whiff of his cologne; an echo of vanilla, of something sweet you could almost taste on the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t find it in you to tell him off as he grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet him in the eye. “Oh, yeah. I can definitely help with that. If you need me to.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. Time seemed to still, your world seeming to stop in its spin. He was so close you only had to move in an inch closer to claim his lips, so close you could see the dip in flesh, the flecks of something sharp in blue.

“Maybe. If you’re lucky,” you said. Tried to come off as coy if not more. Only to fail miserably as you almost stuttered mid-way through, your voice hushed into an entranced whisper, into a gasp too loud. But then he pulled away; a sense of loss along your jawline — and you were relieved and disappointed all at once.

“If I’m lucky,” he echoed. Laughed it out like he already knew he was going to be. Yet he didn’t allow you time to unpack that as he ordered another batch of margarita for you. “Here’s another guess: you like watching romcoms, you spend too much time on shopping apps, and you read a lot of smut online.”

“It’s still literary art,” you argued, defensive, too used to your friends making fun of your taste in fiction. But then it dawned on you that he hit everything on the bullseye — very uncannily so. Like he had been watching you even before tonight, lurking in the shadows, in the crack of your room where you didn’t notice. You frowned, dread creeping into your skin this time. “I — wait, what?”

He was unperturbed; not even a move misplaced.

“It’s just an educated guess,” he reassured you, calm. Too calm even. There was a pause as he waited for your doubt to settle. Sighing then laughing when he realized it wouldn’t. “Relax. I only made that guess because I do the same thing. I mean, I think it’s pretty common. Technically.”

You contemplated that for a moment. A question built at the back of your throat — but then he brushed his fingers together; a snap, and your brain muddled. Mind an empty scape again as you forgot what you were even going to ask.

“Oh,” you said instead. You seemed to be saying that a lot tonight. “I guess that makes sense. There’s stuff like fandoms and all that online, after all.” There was a tentative, thoughtful sip as you brought your glass to your lips. Tilting it a little, margarita sliding down your throat. “Do you… perchance… listen to whimper audios too?”

Embarrassment rushed to your face as he snorted out a laugh.

“No, I don’t,” he managed in between breathless wheezing and loud chuckles, “but I’m not surprised you’re into them. Of course you are.”

You didn’t notice the knowing lilt in his voice. More distracted with your own shame as it burned at your sides.

“Stop,” you whined, a hand rubbing at your face. Like that would erase the flush on your cheeks. “Jesus, you sound like my friends.”

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he reassured you. Or tried to anyway, because he couldn’t temper his laughter even if he tried. Some of it escaping him regardless, in between words, between syllables too breathy. You realized it wasn’t the right time — but he sounded pretty like that. All breathy, letters chopped between sharp gasps. “I mean, I get the appeal. It’s just that I personally would rather hearing them live, you know?”

His gaze drifted to your lips. You licked at them, wetting them either out of the urge to garner his attention or to alleviate your nerves. Maybe it was both.

The foot around your ankle trailed upwards, kissing your flushed knee now as leather teased sensitive skin. It was warm — too warm. So hot you felt like you were burning from arousal. Slick gathering between your legs as he stopped in between them. Pausing, lingering just a little too close to the hemline of your skirt. He could shove it closer and you wouldn’t complain if he touched want and wetness, if he stroked you too hard, too fast. Made you come all over his shoe.

Your toes curled at the thought — but you wisely kept it to yourself. Clearing your throat again as you reached for another glass. “Right,” you said, soft.

He passed it to you. Fingers feathering over yours, nails a graze on your knuckles. “Right,” he said back, not as soft.

Despite everything — yourself especially — you found that you got along just fine with Satoru. He made it easy; had a witty remark to everything. It helped that he was snarky too, responding in kind when you acted as such. Fire to fire, bite to bite. Looking back, maybe you clicked a little too well even.

Not that you were aware of the fact at the time. Too busy having fun, too immersed in the small talk, in Satoru as he carried himself almost flawlessly every step of the way. Graceful, enticing. Like a siren calling your name as he beckoned you closer. With each second, you found that he bridged the gap between you. Shoulder to shoulder, fingers on fingers. His lips, a breath too close on the shell of your ear.

It was spring when you met Satoru, when you looked too deep into his eyes and it was too late.

“My hotel is to the right,” Satoru said as the red light turned yellow. In a few seconds, it would be green again and you would have to move. “Or we can go straight to your friend’s place. Whichever you choose. I had a great night either way.”

He pointed at the direction in which you had showed him earlier. You eyed him as green clawed at his complexion, as something foreign sat on his face. Your mind addled with lust and a little bit too much of alcohol as he lowered the handbrake and changed gears again.

You didn’t say anything in response. Simply reached over instead to place your hand on a part of the steering wheel that was left untouched. It was almost on purpose, calculated to a fault — but you paid no heed to that thought as you swerved the car to the right. Too quickly, too eagerly. But it was loud enough— your answer: a yes to everything that would come next.

Satoru only smiled at you. Something flashed in his gaze, but it was too dark for you to pinpoint what. “Okay then.” He nodded, pinky finger looping around yours. “As you wish, milady.”

You couldn’t remember the last time Satoru let you breathe.

He didn’t ease up even when you clawed at his shirt, not even when your legs quivered and threatened to give out. Lips capturing yours and tongue dipping in between even before you managed to inhale, even before you could heave out a protest as he pushed you against the door. Caging you in, pinning you between him and wooden surface as he shoved between your legs. The tent in his pants rubbing against the wet patch on your underwear — grinding, hips rolling back and forth in a way that made your knees buckle and clouded your vision in stars.

“Wait —" you panted as he finally let go to grant you a short reprieve. Lips attacking your neck this time as he peppered the skin there with hot, open-mouthed kisses, as he lapped at a bead of sweat down your pulse. It was loud, your heartbeat — fast against the tip of his tongue as he sucked in once unmarred flesh.

“No more waiting,” he huffed, impatient as his hands caressed every nook and cranny, every curve he wanted to taste, to kiss, to mark as his and only his. There was something there in his voice; something poignant and longing, wistful and pained.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on that because Satoru was already dipping his fingers under your skirt. Looking for skin to taint, slick to touch. Desperate in the way he scratched at your inner thighs before hooking around the waistband of your panties. Pulling them up to give you friction and letting go once you cried out, seemingly satisfied before swallowing your whines. You dripped to your knees, and he laughed at you — breath like wispy feathers on your collarbone as his lips mapped a trail lower.

“How do you feel about,” Satoru husked against you as his tongue swirled around your nipple through fabric, “me talking down to you and calling you names? Just asking to make sure.”

You moaned, throwing your head back and slumping against the door as he flicked left and right, then up and down before taking the sensitive nub into his mouth. Sucking, nipping through your dress as you twitched and tugged at his hair to keep yourself anchored. The air felt like ice on your skin as he wrapped your leg around his waist. His other hand sliding to feel for slippery flesh, for your swollen clit as it throbbed under his fingertips.

“I like it,” you managed a laugh in between low mewls and sharp gasps. Heart stuttering in your chest as he snapped his fingers on sensitive bundle of nerves. Pressing firm before pinching hard — an incessant jerk of his wrist as he traced along your entrance and teased at your clit. “But of course you’re into that. Of course you like degrading.”

“Shut up,” he laughed. But then the sound dropped a notch lower; a whisper, a growl low and dangerous as he sunk two fingers into tight warmth. “Sluts don’t talk without permission. You don’t even get to think. Just go dumb for me and moan like a pretty little whore.”

His words sent a renewed rush of heat in your loins. Your brain short-circuiting, a half-whimper caught in your throat as he buried knuckle-deep. Spreading his fingers apart and stretching your walls before curling just right. Angling to stroke at your g-spot, to slam against it mercilessly even as you collapsed to his chest from the wave of pleasure.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he praised as you scratched at the expanse of his back through his shirt. His hand keeping you up and against the door as he gave you one rough thrust after another and you threatened to sink to your knees. “Not so sarcastic now that I’ve got two fingers inside that tight little cunt, huh? You’re so fucking wet — so fucking wet it looks like you’ve been waiting for this. Am I right? Hm? You’ve been waiting, aching for me to finger fuck you like this the whole night. Right? Tell me I’m right. Tell me you’re a fucking slut.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears; your body startling as everything became too much all too soon. But Satoru was relentless, no mercy spared for your sake as he kept rutting into you even when you gushed around him. Turned on instead of deterred from the feeling of you spurting to his wrist. Your protests falling on deaf ears as your walls greedily clamped down on his fingers and sucked them in.

“I don’t hear an answer,” he said, condescendingly sweet as he quickened his pace and kissed your tears away when they finally streamed free. Everything was too loud — the sound of his palm slapping against your pussy, the squelching noises circling in the room. Your own heartbeat; little pitter-patters too quick in your ears. “What, stupid whore brain can’t think of one? Need me to tell you what to say? Really? You’re that hopeless? That useless of a fucktoy?”

You shuddered, the knot in your belly reaching a fevered pitch as your eyes almost fluttered close. But you kept them on him, on his face as he demanded your attention with a cold glare.

“N-no,” you whimpered, melting as his free hand found your clit. Cruel as it fondled sensitive flesh without even a pause, without even loosening up at least a little. Letting you feel the full weight and pressure of his fingers as he stroked too hard, too fast.

He raised an eyebrow at you, almost disappointed. “No?”

“No — I mean, yes. Yes, you’re right,” you sobbed, sweat matting your hair to your forehead as he slanted his lips over yours, “I’m a slut. I’ve been waiting for this the whole night. Been thinking about it — about you the entire car ride.”

“Bitch in heat,” he growled, and you almost came undone right then and there. A bowstring almost pulling taut before keeping it together at the last minute as you gasped, screamed out a pathetic half-attempt of his name into the air. He looked down then — down at the sight of him disappearing into your cunt, at the sight of you leaking to his arm. He stared; reveling in the way you pried open and took him in. “Such a pretty pussy on the filthiest fucking slut. Look at you taking my fingers so well. Spreading your legs so wide for me to fuck you stupid.”

“Satoru, fuck —” you tried, only to break into a string of moans as he stuttered before doubling down. The wet noises rising in tandem with his speeding rhythm and brute force as he threatened to snap you in half.

You didn’t even have time to take in a breath. You had an inkling that he would be intense, but this? This was something else entirely. Satoru worked you to the fullest; playing you like a craft, one calculated, brutal thrust after another. At the same time, he was like a madman — a predator finally coming upon fresh meat as he added another finger. Acting only on the instinct to break and destroy everything he touched as he fucked his fingers into you so hard you felt the air punched out of your lungs. The stretch was a little painful, but the pleasure came quick. Overriding everything else as his scent encompassed your every sense.

“Do you do this a lot?” he suddenly asked, lips slipping past your chin to kiss along the curve of your neck. “Fucking strangers you just met, I mean.”

For a moment, you wondered why he was so curious. But the thought dwindled, fading into nothingness, into euphoria as Satoru rocked against your g-spot especially harsh. Your back arching as your nails clawed at his neck, at his arms, at anything you could grasp for some semblance of solace.

“No,” you managed, trembling violently. “Not often. Just when I’m — ah, stressed. And needing some relief.”

Jealousy seemed to cross his face for a fleeting second before it dissipated again. Leaving you to ponder if it was even there to begin with as your hips shook before going limp. Body flushing, twitching uncontrollably as he placed kisses along your hairline. The sight was forgotten with every brush of his fingers, every feather of his lips over warm skin. You didn’t even notice the possessiveness in the way he dug his teeth into you as he slapped against flesh even harder now. Breakneck speed that rendered you breathless as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“We better make you feel good then,” he rasped, dipping his tongue into your mouth again. “Better make the most of it if you don’t do this that often.”

You couldn’t force out a reply. Not that you needed to because Satoru was quick to lavish your nipple with attention again; tongue circling around before licking fast. Lips wrapping around it — steady suctions and eager kisses as you strained against fabric. He rolled your clit in circles before tugging hard, groaning as you pushed your breasts into his face, as you shivered before bucking your hips.

Everything felt like it was stuttering on its axis as Satoru kissed his way down, past your supple mounds, your stomach as it flexed under his touch. His teeth catching the hemline of your skirt once he reached where you wanted him to be — breath hot, lips even hotter. He leaned in, and everything inside you collapsed. You made a stranged noise, hand flying to his hair, fingers tangling in white as his mouth met soft flesh, wet on his tongue.

“Satoru,” you keened, dazed smile on your lips as he gave you a tentative lick before sucking you in. One suck needier than the last as he panted, breathing too loud, too fast against your clit.

You weren’t used to being this sensitive, this receptive. Yet Satoru knew just which spots he had to love to pull it out of you, which cracks he had to pry to force it out of you. So you rode his hand and face with reckless abandon, mouth to clit, tips of his fingers to your g-spot. He pulled away only slightly to hover his tongue over your slit — the only form of attention he was willing to grant you coming in the shape of his saliva dripping down from his tongue and to your entrance. Dirty as it slithered in between your vulva lips and to his fingers, warm as it seeped into your walls.

“Atta girl, that’s it. Such a good fucking slut. Pretty little sex toy.” His eyes fluttered, words slurring and muffled into you as he slurped you up like a man starved and possessed. Chasing after you even when you pushed at his head and flinched away. “Make yourself useful and bounce on my fucking face. Use me to get that pussy off. Make that pussy come for me, I know you can make that pussy come for me —"

You exhaled, the sound loud, hips pausing before setting a swifter pace. Frenzied, drunk in the way you clung to his every word, in the way you squeezed around him like a vice. Satoru made a weird sound against your clit — something akin to a growl and a gasp as you wet his cheeks. It was a mistake to peer down at him because the sight that greeted you was too hot for your already crippling sanity. His cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, hair sticking to various parts of his face as you spurted all over him and dribbled down his chin.

The spring in your belly coiled tightly, threatening to release. Satoru seemed to sense it as he noticed your legs twitching around him before pressing firm and locking him in place. Smothering him under the weight of your hips as you sank down fully on his tongue. Your body stiffening before going still.

“Squirt for me,” he cooed, voice that sweet condescension again. “Be a good bitch and squirt into my mouth. Come down my fucking throat.”

That did it for you. There was one last swipe of his tongue on your clit as he shoved his fingers as hard as he could into your core. You barely caught on to the savage curse he let out as you shattered all over him, climax rushing out of you in powerful bursts as he kept fucking his fingers into your abused hole. Dutifully drinking you up and leaving no drop wasted as he helped you ride out your high.

For a moment, everything slowed. Your mind a puddle as you tried to collect any remnant of reason left behind. If there was even any. But then you felt it — constant friction, full pressure that was never gone. Satoru kept going even after you finished, lapping at sensitive skin even as you slumped around his shoulders, digits pistoning in and out of you still even as your vision cut to black.

“Too much,” you cried, choking on a sob as you tried to wrench yourself free. Yet to no avail as Satoru sucked you in, ruthless as he flicked his tongue on you even while you were still lodged in his mouth.

He let go with a wet pop. “I don’t fucking care,” he growled, eyes glaring at you as they peeked from behind your skirt. Fabric curtaining his cheeks, the slick on flushed skin still visible. “You’re gonna come until I’m done. And I’m not fucking done.”

Not by a long shot, it would appear. Because he forced one orgasm after another out of you even when you begged him not to, even when you threatened to pass out from the overstimulation. But he slapped you awake every time, a sting on your cheek with every smack of his palm across your face, delicious pain that you leaned into as you grew wetter with each strike.

Everything blurred. Blending into a mess too tangled to make sense as you lost count on how many times he pushed you over the edge.

I’m sorry, you whispered at some point.

No, at another.

Stop, and another.

Please, you had even pleaded with him. But you never knew if it was for more or less.

You didn’t even know what it said about you that you enjoyed it so much, that you preened under his attention, keened every time he forced you through a wave of torment. You loved it — basked it in even, in this moment in all its glory as he broke you to pieces and put you back together. Rinse and repeat, until you were spent, until you couldn’t say anything more but a cry of his name. A chant, rippling out of you like an endless prayer. And if Satoru liked it too, he let you know with every laugh, every nasty thing he whispered into the apex of your thighs.

“There you go, press your toes into my back,” he groaned, his face too wet at this point. “Pull at my hair, squeeze your thighs around my head. Show me how good I’m making you feel. How good daddy’s making you feel.”

That made your head spin. Your knees buckling before sinking into his shoulders.

“W-what?” was all you could say, eyes wide as electricity jolted through you and a shiver ran down your spine. You liked that.

“Daddy,” you tried, feeling how it rolled off your tongue. It tasted sweet, tasted perfect. Sinful between your lips. And then:

“Daddy,” you mewled again, louder this time as adrenaline filled every cell. Your body on fire despite the fatigue, pussy swollen and aching for more despite the sweat now drying on your skin. Too much and too little all at once. More and less. “Daddy, please — please. You’re so good, so good. So fucking good —”

“Fuck, that’s it. Sloppy fucking slut. Grind that perfect pretty pussy on my tongue. You’re making daddy so proud. Making me so happy,” he grunted, sounding like he was already fucking you as he bucked his hips into the air. Desperate for any friction, anything to wrap around him and milk him dry as he felt you clench around his fingers, felt you push your cunt lower onto his face. Firm — too firm you would have worried you were suffocating him if not for the way he eagerly met you half-way.

All too soon, you felt another fire pooling low in your abdomen. Your screams chopping in half as you lost every bit of yourself in him.

“C’mon, fucking come for me,” he gasped into you. “I know you’re coming. I can feel it. Come. I’ll take care of you, so just come —"

“Daddy, daddy, daddy — Satoru,” you whispered, in reverence, in dazed worship as your eyes glazed over. Then you dissolved into pleasure, into nothing but Satoru as he held your hand throughout it all. Fingers slipping in between, fitting too right as he filled empty spaces.

One thing led to another and you were on the bed now — kissing, tongues stroking and sharing the same air as Satoru was quick to undress you. Tugging down your dress, the feel of fabric sliding to your ankles sending chills down the base of your spine.

“Satoru,” you whimpered as he latched onto one nipple, grazing the edge of his teeth around it before swirling his tongue on sensitive nerve. Flicking, tasting the sweat down your breast before nipping hard.

“Wrong name,” he growled, cock straining against material. Pushing against you as hard lines met want and wetness, rubbing, grinding firm.

“Daddy,” you tried again, eyes fluttering shut as he dipped down to claim your lips again. His fingers caressed your nipples, kneading supple flesh before pinching down. Yours found his belt, urgent as you hurriedly made to unbuckle it.

“So greedy,” he tutted at you, hair soft against your chin as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Sniffing you in, then exhaling a contented sigh. “Have I ever told you that you smell good?” He slapped your hands away, pulling down his zipper and then his pants for you because you were too slow. “For a slut anyway.”

Heart pounding in your ears, your gaze dropped to see what was between his legs before he grasped your chin again. Tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him instead of his cock as you felt it throbbed, felt it push against your knee. Wet at the slit, heavy on your skin.

“Not yet,” he told you, and you wanted to cry.

“You won’t even let me look?”

He sounded a laugh, but didn’t let go of your chin. Keeping you still, keeping you eye-to-eye with him as he pressed your foreheads together. “Not yet,” he repeated, a low pant this time as you hiked your leg around his waist. Let your thigh skim past his length before locking him in place.

“Whore,” he spat at you, and you felt fuzzy. Hot all over as he shot you a glare before kissing his way down from your neck to linger on your cleavage. Tongue raking along before dipping in.

You clenched around nothing, your eyes ablazed and your head blank as you stared down at him. He was beautiful, even more so now that he was wrapping his lips around your breast, sucking your nipple in, circling his tongue around. All the while looking you in the eye, sly smile growing on your skin.

“Please,” you mewled, tired of his torture, of his teasing as he kissed his nails along the smooth expanse of your stomach. Letting his fingers only barely brush over you before retracting his hand. Still, his warmth lingered, a tingle on your flesh, fire in your loins. And he laughed.

“Please what?” he huffed, tongue lapping up a line over your collarbone. “Be a good doll for me and use your words.”

You heaved out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Crying out, choking on a sob when he dug his teeth into your shoulder. The pain was instant, but so was the arousal — a rush of heat down your slit as you gushed, stained the sheets.

“Need you,” you managed, shivering violently as he traced fingers over your inner thighs. Those barely there feathers again, scratching rather than touching you in full. You were still sensitive from before, nerves hyper-alert, but he took his time tormenting you. Reveling in the way you twitched, the way you looked up at him like you were already fucked out. “Need you to use me. Make me your pretty little whore.”

“But you already are,” he laughed, voice crooned, sweet but sarcastic. Your eyes brimmed with tears, vision blurring before you blinked them away. But he understood; catching on to the plea left unsaid, the whisper hushed. “You want more. Even after coming so much? Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

There was slight arrogant posturing there, and normally, you would have scoffed. Rolled your eyes at him even. But right now, you were too dizzy to think, feeling like you were floating, on a constant high as he placed his hand around your neck. Squeezing, applying firm pressure that had you choking, wheezing around his fingers.

“Need your cock,” you shuddered out. Dazed smile playing on your lips as you grew light-headed. Drunk on the lack of air, on Satoru as he took you in with sadistic glee, eyes dark, almost panting a little as he grinned, wide and feral. “Need it in my mouth, in my pussy. In all my holes. Need you to stuff me full. Fill me to the brim with cum.”

“That’s filthy, princess,” he chastised you, mock disappointment as he shook his head. But his fingers dug into your skin, nails pressing down harder — and you knew it was the right answer. “You want that? Want me to be fucking filthy with you?”

“Yes,” you keened, leaning in. Nuzzling your nose against the bone of his wrist as he cupped your cheek in his free hand. Loving, if not for the way he looked down at you like you were nothing but a set of holes — if not for his other one still pushing his palm into your pulse. But you managed, forced out the words if only for that glint of approval in blue gaze, like he was proud, like you were making him proud. “Would that be bad? If I want daddy to be filthy with me?”

“Fucking terrible,” Satoru huffed, but his cock bounced against your stomach. Pre-cum leaking from the tip, hot and sticky as it smeared your skin and dribbled into your navel. “Not that I expected anything less. Ask a bitch slut a question, and of course, she responds like one. Doesn’t matter what you would say. Everything that comes out of that mouth is fucking dirty anyway.”

You whined, growing wetter from his words as your walls pulsed — begging, aching to be stretched out. Your hand reached down to stroke your clit, to feel anything other than the slightest brush of his fingers, the briefest ghost of his lips. But he slapped that away too, clicking his tongue at you as you peered up at him in tears, in impatience as your teeth caught your lower lip in between.

“Please, daddy,” you pleaded again, batting your eyelashes at him this time. He hummed in thought, appraising you, tucking tendrils of your hair behind your ear. Again, loving — if not for the way he laughed at you, cold and cruel.

Even so, he didn’t deny you any longer as he crawled up to your face. Hand letting go of your neck, tracing your lips as you took in greedy inhales of air. His knees sunk into the space around your neck, your moan loud and lewd as he wrapped a hand around his cock. Hovered it over your face. Over your mouth that parted open, your tongue that darted out to taste.

But he pulled away. Laughing as you chased after him only to be deprived again.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, ignoring your whining as he slid his palm up and down his shaft. Pre-cum gathering before glistening on his fingers, your skin prickling as your cheeks caught some of it before he slapped you with his cock. Let it rest like this heavy weight on your lips before wiping slick away. “Yeah, this is what you want, huh. Sloppy little slut,” he husked as your tongue went to lick at his veins. Tears streaming down your face when he drew it back again.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you groaned, accusing as you glared up at him. He lifted an eyebrow at that, smug expression faltering if only for a second as his fingers brushed past his tip. Again and again until he was bucking into his hand, faster and harder until he was breathing too loud into cold air.

“I,” he panted, head thrown back and eyes clamping shut as he rubbed a fist around the head of his cock. Rolling in circles whilst his other hand pumped up and down what was left untouched, “have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

So he claimed, but you knew he knew the effect he had on you as he watched your eyes roll every time he lingered too close. Cock only a hair’s breadth away from your face, tip almost bumping into your nose every time he snapped his hips. Your tongue reached out, but he would always pull it out of touching distance. Out of your grasp — your lips that ached to take him in. You didn’t know how long you could take this before losing your sanity.

“Daddy,” you cried, wanting more but not daring to move as he kept you still with a glare. With a tut every time you even tried. “Pleasepleaseplease let me taste you. Let me suck you off. Let me make you feel good, make you cum in my mouth.” You paused, smiling a little as his eyes glazed over, as his breath hitched in his throat. “Don’t you wanna cum in my mouth? Make me swallow every drop? Fuck my face to completion? Choke me on your cock ‘till I drool all the way down to my chest?”

“Fuck,” Satoru gasped, composure fractured as his pace stuttered before doubling down. “Fucking brat, fucking stupid whore —” The way he quivered was violent then, tension pulling taut in his form before he let go. Dropping his cock on your face again. Once again heavy on your cheeks as he leaned in. Propped himself up by his palms against the headboard.

“Look at you. Look at the fucking spit running down your chin. Look at my cock, resting on your pretty face,” he purred, almost slurring through his words as he slid his tip over the trail of your saliva down the edge of your lips. Ignoring your pleas, your whines for more as the full length of him sat on your nose. Flushing from the way you panted against him, the way you leaned into him like you were intoxicated. “Bet you fucking like this too, huh? Like when I fucking slap my cock on your face? When I stain those cheeks with pre-cum? You like this, don’t you? Don’t you —”

A long, drawn out mewl escaped you. Your mind heady as he pulled away only to drop down on you again. One strike after another hard as you drooled for even the slightest inch of him.

“Please, Satoru, please. Just fuck my mouth. Just —” you sobbed, eyes glossy again as the torment drove your damn near crazy. Pushed so far you almost forgot to address him correctly. An apology at the tip of your tongue when it hit you a moment later.

But it didn’t manage to leave. Muffled into a startled gasp as the only warning Satoru gave you was the briefest brush of his tip between your lips before he shoved himself all the way in. Giving you no time to adjust to the sudden intrusion as he drew almost completely out before rocking forth again. Cock pushing against the back of your throat, forcing you to override your gag reflex. But the surprise lasted only briefly, gone the instant he started to move. Replaced with lust, with your fingers as they drifted lower to massage slippery folds.

Your chest burned, and your mouth felt like it was pried open too big — at least more than you were used to. Still, you accomodated. You sucked him in instead of pushing him off as he used you to get off. His pelvis kissing your nose with each thrust, saliva trickling down your chin as he pushed your head further into the bed.

“That’s it, suck me — suck me off, suck my cock,” he rasped, a wild look flitting past his face as he looked down to see you slobbering all over him, smiling before choking on his length. “This is what you begged for, isn’t it, you dirty little slut? Fucking deepthroat me then. Swallow me so fucking deep. That’s so good, so fucking good.”

Any remnant of self-control frayed into nothing as you hollowed your cheeks, your moans vibrations that sent him spiraling as you pressed your fingers into heat. Hooking for that sensitive spot within, matching his pace as you bucked against your hand. Palm slapping against swollen clit, crying out every time his balls hit your chin. His scent was potent; all-encompassing and sinking down on you like hands on your shoulders as you swallowed around him.

“God, you’re so good with your mouth,” he complimented you, affectionate as he pushed your bangs away. “Yeah, you better be fucking good with your mouth if you’re gonna run it like a little bitch. Like my little bitch.”

Your eyes flit shut. You tried your best to take him — you really did. But still, you struggled, wheezing with every brutal flick of his waist. Gagging as he sat fully on your face; rendering you helpless and at his mercy as he fed you more than you could handle. But it egged you on instead of turning you off. Your fingers burying knuckle-deep each time he knocked the air out of you.

“You’re so dirty,” he laughed at you, at the bubble of spit down your chest. Your tongue swirled around him as he made eye contact, tempo faltering before quickening — spurred on by your reddened lips, by your face as it flushed bright red. Your tears, pretty as they cascaded down your skin.

He wiped them away.

“Look at how fucking sloppy you are,” he cooed, mock pity lilting his voice as he brushed off a lock of hair from your lips. Making sure you weren’t disrupted as he engulfed himself in tight warmth again and again. Fucking into your mouth so hard you could barely even breathe. “Look at how perfect you look swallowing all that dick. Listen to you moan around it, listen to you fucking moan like a whore. You like that, huh? Yeah? Moan for me while you gag on my cock then. Make me feel good, make daddy feel good. Make that cock cum.”

And that was all you needed. All he had to give you before you spilled on your fingers. Before you gave him a few hard suctions, pressure too tight around him — and you felt him go still. His mouth wide open, eyes a haze as he shuddered before ramming his cock against the back of your throat one last time. He released; one spurt of warmth after another filling your mouth.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, sated and soothing as he felt you struggle to gulp him down. Your hands coming to push at his thighs before he pried them away, nail by nail, finger by finger. “Just take all of it like a good girl. Take my fucking cum. Take it and swallow.”

So you obliged, humming in delight once every drop trailed down your throat. He tasted bittersweet, hot and lingering on your tongue even after he pulled out with a wet pop.

“Let me look,” he said once he managed to collect himself. Looking disheveled but not as disheveled as you as he tugged at your chin for added emphasis. You complied, obedient and dutiful as ever as you opened your mouth so quickly it was instinct.

“Good girl,” Satoru purred as he noted that you had indeed swallowed all of him. Pushing you down again when you tried to prop yourself up. Laughing at you as you looked up at him with that glare again, that hint of a fight in one eye despite the tears.

“If you dare tease me again,” you warned. But the edge dulled, and you didn’t seem all that intimidating. Especially when your legs shook, when your toes curled as his hand crept its way down. Nails raking your flesh, leaving angry red imprints on once unmarked space.

“Patience,” he reprimanded you, the sound soft and casual. But you caught the sadistic lilt, the briefest of a chuckle in the way his eyes flashed at you. He positioned himself between your legs again, cock hovering over you before playing with your clit. Flicking left and right, up and down until he had you whining again. Until the fight in you left, stripped away.

“You want this?” he asked, his voice low and choppy as he traced along your entrance. Groaning as he felt you pulse, felt your walls try to pull him in. “Want me to fuck you? Need daddy to fucking pump you full?”

“Yes,” your whimper broke free in an instant. “I want you. Want you to fuck me. To breed me stupid.”

“Look at you being such a good fucktoy,” Satoru keened before sinking into you. Inch by inch — slowly like he wanted you to feel every bit of him sliding in, like he wanted you to appreciate every second of it. And you did, crying out his name, tugging at your own nipples for him as he stretched you out beyond anyone else ever had. “Yeah, you were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be my cute little cocksleeve, to be my precious good girl. Made to be mine.”

You couldn’t help but shiver. There was something in his voice that sounded oddly ominous, dangerously sinister in the way he drawled out his words. He sounded way too possessive for someone who just met you tonight — but that thought immediately faded as he sheathed into you balls-deep. Pushing as far as he could, pressing down on the shape of him peeking through your stomach as you struggled to breathe. Struggled to even form a coherent sentence.

Then there was a brush of his thumb over your clit — and you forgot what you were even worried about.

“Fuck, yes,” you mewled, legs digging into his hips as you pulled him closer. Your hands clawing at his neck, fingers tangling into white hair as his lips mapped yours in a bruising kiss. “You’re so good. You feel so good inside me.”

Another laugh bubbled out of him, but it circled the room in quivers — breathless as he touched your forehead with his. “You know just what to say. You always do, don’t you?”

You didn’t notice the wistful look scratching at his face. Nor did you notice the way he hooked his arms possessively around your waist as he pressed you flushed against him. His full weight sinking down on you as he pulled out almost completely only to slam back in. Pace slow only for a few moments before he grew impatient, sanity crippling at the feel of your walls tightening around him, your clit throbbing under his fingertips as he stroked it again and again.

“Yeah, you like that, huh,” he husked on your tongue before drawing apart to drink in your reactions. Your eyes rolling back, your face flushed and wet from either spit or tears. You didn’t know what he was looking at — but whatever it was did the trick because he was giving you these deep and hard thrusts that were so relentless you felt like you were breaking in half. “You like how I fuck that pussy? Like how I pound you into the fucking bed?”

But you couldn’t form out words. Your lips wide open to let out a string of broken whimpers instead — sharp gasps and quick pants that left you too loud as his balls slapped against your ass. You couldn’t even think, but Satoru didn’t seem to mind. Relishing instead in the way your eyes turned glassy, in the way you smiled and laughed like you were in a trance.

“You fuck me so well,” you managed, in between squelching noises too obscene, in between the sound of skin smacking hard against skin. He laughed, rolling his eyes at you like he expected nothing less.

“You look so fucking good with your legs spread,” he grunted, free hand reaching for her throat again as he wrapped it around her neck. Pushing down, choking you out of air as your breasts bounced in tandem with the snap of his hips. Reckless abandon, constant friction as he fucked you with a vengeance, like he hated you and he couldn’t have this any other way.

His eyes dipped to where you were joined, and you felt him swell inside you as he groaned at the sight. “Look at that stranger cock going inside you. In and out, just like that. Pounding deep inside that sloppy fucking cunt just the way you like it. Just the way cocksluts like you like it.”

You were teetering on another edge, that spring in your belly coiling tightly before threatening to release. Still, he kept going — pistoned into you like a man possessed even as you gushed, even as you squeezed around him so tight. Your hands grabbing at his arms, clinging to any part of him for solace as you tried not to lose yourself.

“Daddy,” you choked on a sob. “I’m gonna come. I’m so close, so fucking close. I’m gonna —"

Satoru didn’t say much. He didn’t say anything at all — only feathered his lips over your hairline, soft. But that did you in, your body twitching before going stiff. Warmth spreading all over before exploding out you in a drawn out high. Satoru fucked you through it, cock railing into your hole in a building rhythm. He fucked you even after; laughed at you and slapped your hands away when you tried to shake him off.

“Can’t,” you cried, yanking too hard at his hair as he planted kisses along the line of your jaw. Lips catching your pulse, tongue licking before teeth quickly dug in. “Too — sensitive! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t —”

“You can,” was all he said before he folded your legs over your chest. Rocking into you deeper now, the force of his thrusts brutal, fast as he kept assaulting your battered slit. His hand loosened its hold around your neck if only to reach for one nipple, brushing soft before pinching and tugging hard. “You take it so fucking deep for me, don’t you? Take my cock so fucking well. You even sound good — moan like such a good slut. So fucking pretty, so fucking stupid all for me.”

It was torturous but also delightful: that drag of his length along your walls as he pounded you to pieces. Pounded you to tears and a drooling mess as you couldn’t make sense of anything anymore; your ecstatic cries of his name cacophonic, adrenaline in your veins as want pooled despite the overstimulation.

“Right there!” you screamed, fingers clawing at his back as he shifted ever so slightly to angle himself at your g-spot. “Please keep fucking me. Keep fucking me, keep fucking me —”

“There you go,” he laughed as he watched you try to suck him in — felt you dig the back of your knees into his shoulders to force him deeper. “See? I knew you had it in you. A cheap whore like you? Bet you can take hours of thorough fucking just because you’re addicted to cum. To stranger cocks destroying that tight little pussy.”

His fingers latched on to your clit again, flicking in sync with the roll of his hips as he impaled you again and again on his cock. He didn’t let you rest; didn’t ease up even as he felt you clench around him before shattering all over. Wetting the sheets, his stomach as you squirted — spurting every time he pulled out only to shove back in.

“Guys back home fuck you like this?” he asked, knowing full well you couldn’t answer as you muffled broken, half-attempt at words into the crook of his neck. His fingers incessant as they traced circles into your clit. “No, I don’t think so. You gotta be a good filthy fucking slut to get fucked like this. To spread your legs for a stranger for him to fuck you like this.”

Shame burned your cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of your ears as the intensity of it all overwhelmed you and you bit back a moan only to babble something incorrigible. Your body lurching, knees buckling before going limp around his head.

“I can’t think,” you cried out, throwing your arms over your face to hide your expressions before he forcefully pried them away. “Don’t look, I — "

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, the sound hushed against your lips as he slanted his over them. Nothing else mattered then as you softened — as you felt Satoru slam into you with renewed urgency. Rhythm lost, fevered heat reaching its peak as his stomach flexed and he drew close. Ignoring your sobs, the way your nails dragged painfully across his chest as he chased after his own high. “Just hold out for me a little longer. Just a bit more. I promise, just a bit more —”

Your head lolled into the mattress. “Daddy,” you moaned, tired but terrifyingly sated. Needy to a fault in the way you pulled at white strands. “Come for me, come in me. Please. Want daddy’s cum. Want you to shoot it all the way to the back of my pussy.”

He broke then; a bowstring snapping in half as he collapsed on top of you. Forehead to forehead, lips to lips as he kissed you like you were the air he needed to even breathe.

“Say my name,” he rasped. Eyes fluttering shut. “Say my name over and over again while I come.”

There was a certain weight in his words. A certain emotion you couldn’t understand. But that, too, faded into nothingness. Into Satoru as everything turned to static.

“Satoru,” so you whispered. “Satoru, Satoru, Satoru.” Again and again like it was a prayer. Like he was God, and you were nothing but his devout follower. His body an altar to be kissed as you pressed your lips all over, catching his sweat, his tongue as he shoved it into your mouth.

Satoru let go at the same time you did — warmth flooding your insides and painting them white as you fell off the edge.

“I paid for the room for two days,” Satoru said as you woke up. Sunrise peeking through the blinds and clawing at your face before you groaned, turning to your other side. “You can order room service too if you want. It’s on me.”

“You didn’t have to,” you mumbled. One fist rubbing over your eye before you blinked a few times and your vision finally cleared. Satoru slipped out of the bathroom fully dressed, dark sunglasses on the bridge of his nose as he looked himself over in the mirror. “Going somewhere?”

Satoru peered at you — or, well, the bite marks around the apex of your thighs first before your face. Features soft before shifting into something unreadable.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, awkward as he scratched the back of his head. “I hate to say it because it makes me sound like an asshole — but, uh, I got stuff to do, so yeah.”

You feigned a gasp, a hand to your chest for added dramatic effect. “So you’re just gonna stick it in then dip? Wow. I really am nothing but a cheap whore for you, huh.”

He squinted at you then. “Aren’t you?” he joked, playing along with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder — only to break character as you threw a pillow at him in retaliation. He dodged it, one step too skilled and graceful. “I’ll still be around town, but I can’t promise I can hang out often. I’m here for work stuff too, so yeah. But I did have fun.”

“Me too,” you said, a smile drawing on your face as he reached over to pat your head. Ruffling your hair before passing you a bottle of water. “You were, uh, scary good.”

Satoru’s response was quick. Coy, smug confidence in the upturn of his chin. “Oh, yeah? Say more.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Refusing to indulge except for a light punch to his shoulder. “Shush, you. I bet you’re used to compliments anyway. Doubt there’s anything I can say that you haven’t heard.”

“Well…” Satoru started, humming as though in agreement. You lifted another pillow in threat, but he pried it out of your grasp, flinging it away before leaning in to kiss you. “Jokes aside though, you were great too. Fucking amazing, in fact.”

“Stop,” you murmured, blushing now as blood rushed to your face. Warmth under your cheeks that he kissed as he brushed his lips over your skin. “You should go. Like, actually. Before I jump you again.”

“Shaking in my boots as we speak, ma’am,” he laughed. Granting you and himself one last press of his lips against yours before sighing, reluctant as he pulled away. “But yeah. I really do have to bounce. You’re fine on your own, right?”

“I’m a big girl,” you answered, mirth in your eyes as you eyed the worry and guilt etched on his face. “And thanks for paying for the room. You didn’t have to, but I could use a break from my friends for a bit. They’ve been kinda… pushy since the break-up.”

“I can imagine,” Satoru chuckled, but didn’t resist as you went to fix his crooked tie. He peppered a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Thanks.”

Then he was gone. Out of your space but not without a fight. Seeming like he was forced to tear himself away from you as he made for the door.

“Take care, Y/N,” he said, sparing you one last glance before clicking the door shut behind him. You didn’t notice what he said until you were gulping down greedy intakes of water. Body sore but sated. One hand to your lips, feeling the warmth left behind from where he lingered.

When did you tell him your name?

But then your hand fell limp. A fog in your brain before that thought, too, was forgotten.

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keyotos · 1 year ago

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disgusting

summary ⎯ after a long day, all you want to do is relax with your boyfriend.

tags ⎯ gn!reader. tooth-rotting fluff. ONE minor innuendo. basically alhaitham is in love.

tana's words ⎯ hi guys sorry for the mini hiatus but i'm bored and i am going to write this very quick and very simple drabble just bc

"why do they always have to run?" you complain as you settle onto the couch that alhaitham was quietly reading on. "i mean, it's never gonna do anything. like, we are the matra. we can catch up to you at any second, but noooo, running will most definitely allow you to evade us," sarcasm dripped from your voice.

alhaitham puts down his book and turns his attention towards you. earlier that night, when you arrived home, you barely even greeted him. now, alhaitham is not one to get clingy due to the fact that you didn't greet him with as much affection as usual, but he was missing you quite a bit (not that he'd ever let you know that), so he was concerned.

the affection you had given him prior tonight was a chaste kiss on the lips. it wasn't much, but it still meant a lot to him, whether he showed it or not. tonight, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. ridiculous, alhaitham is well aware, but it still raised some concern within him. your actions meant you probably had a stressful day, which made alhaitham want to know more.

when did he start finding himself enthralled with your very essence? there was no switch to define when his feels for you developed to more than just friends. only a heavy beating in his heart when he was around you. only a feeling of airiness in his chest when he spoke to you.

"what happened today?" alhaitham asked calmly, being the complete opposite to your frazzled antics while describing your hectic day. to help you relax, he began to rub his hands up and down your thigh. you melted into his touch instantly, letting out a deep breath.

"oh you know. the usual research fraud. wasn't even that bad actually. he was probably going to get like, what, two months of suspension and eight months of community service? better fate than most. but instead of surrendering, he chose to run all the way from sumeru city to gandharva ville!" you ranted, throwing your hands in the air to indicate your frustrations. "and he even tried to hide. from the matra. from me! like, you're cornered like a deer here, might as well surrender and make it easier for everyone else."

you rubbed the thigh that didn't occupy alhaitham's hand, "also, i'm sore as hell. all that running from sumeru city to gandharva ville and then all the way back has me spent. i feel like i'm not gonna be able to walk for days."

alhaitham lightly scoffed in response. you were tough, one of the matra's best at that. alhaitham could also think of instances where you couldn't walk, yet pulled through for the next day (ignoring his advice to stay home). however, he wasn't going to comment about that at the moment.

his gaze never left you the entire time. alhaitham was so incredibly focused on your face, studying you and focusing on you like a researcher would, hoping to never let something as brilliant as you go. his eyes traced the movement of your mouth every time you groaned; the way you squeezed your eyes shut when you raved about another frustration; the way your hands moved sporadically through the air.

again, when did go from simply observing you to essentially admiring your every move? and why is it so easy to do so?

"hey," you dragged out the word and poked his cheek. "were you even listening to me? or were you just gawking at me?"

alhaitham is snapped out of his daze, refocusing back on your words. well, he was always focused on your words. just not at this moment. "of course i was listening," alhaitham rolls his eyes teasingly, "if he ran all the way to gandharva ville, maybe he had more to hide. why else would he go through all the trouble? or maybe your face scared him so much he felt he had to run far, far away."

you rolled your eyes, "very funny, acting grand sage. are you trying to get involved in matra business now?"

"quite the contrary," alhaitham countered, "just wanted to get involved in my partner's life. is that a crime?"

"yes," you replied instantaneously. "you'll be arrested now. hope you know that you're getting the life sentence," you grinned, grabbing his wrists and placing them by your hips. you were caged underneath him, smiling wide as ever.

alhaitham finds it hard to not smile back at your antics. most of the time, he tried to keep a stoic composure to keep people away and hide his intentions. but with you, he finds that it all melts away, leaving it only you and him and nothing but bliss.

you were the first to break the silence, "so... were you actually listening to me or were you just making inferences based on what i was saying earlier?" your voice was nothing above a whisper, letting it be known that it was only you and him in the house.

"'course i was listening to you," his voice matched your soft tone, words filled with sincerity and admiration, "how could i not with a voice as sweet as yours?"

and that's when you lose it. you lose it for two reasons: alhaitham was teasing you and you knew that during your entire rant you sounded anything but sweet. malice and exasperation flowed through you as you spoke about today's events. alhaitham was simply pulling your leg, the bastard.

but, that did prove that he was listening. only he would be able to distinct the way your words moved through the air, tainting it with annoyance and irritation. only he would know.

you shoved alhaitham off of you, sending him back to the other side of the couch. "you're disgusting!" you giggled and shoved his shoulder, "i've had enough of you. i'm going to bed," you grabbed a pillow from the couch and shoved your face in it, hoping that alhaitham wouldn't be able to see your blush.

but of course, alhaitham sees through you yet again. "okay. i'll see you soon," he picked up his book and continued to read, knowing that you'd be next to him in a matter of seconds. if you weren't in the matra, you would have had a fulfilling career as a researcher with your curiosity.

"what are you reading?" you rest your head on his shoulder, peering at the pages. you let the pillow that you were holding go, now discarded to the side as you moved towards your boyfriend.

alhaitham closed the book to show you the title, which you read out loud, "remarkably bright creatures. taking a break from nonfiction?" you turned your head to look at him. that feeling alhaitham had in the beginning of your relationship came back, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. no matter how many years you two have been together, alhaitham thinks that he will never be able to shake off the feeling of being in love with you.

"needed to replenish my pallet," he shrugged simply. his vagueness made you even more curiouser, alhaitham's goal in the first place. you could chalk this up to him trying to engage your interests again, but really, alhaitham just wanted your affection. as stupid as it sounds, alhaitham is a man who (at the end of the day) just wants his partner's touch.

you let out a hum and move closer towards him. you had your knees raised up to your chest, reading the words alongside him. your arms were touching, your head almost leaned onto his shoulder.

once you found yourself fascinated enough with the novel, alhaitham took this as his chance to get you closer. he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, now so close that he could feel the air exhale from your nose. you, too distracted from the words in front of you, didn't seem to pay any mind.

"'as a general rule, i like holes,'" alhaitham began to read from the book, causing you to subvert your gaze towards his face, "'a hole at the top of my tank gives me freedom. but i do not like the hole in her heart. she only has one, not three, like me. tova’s heart. i will do everything i can to help her fill it.'”

"you know," your fingers dance along the bicep that you've curled under, "this octopus reminds me of a certain someone. impassive on the outside, yet he cares about others on the inside."

"comparing me to a sea animal now? i'm surprised you've hit a new low," alhaitham teases you. he accepts your compliment by kissing you on your jaw.

"shut up!" you swat at the same bicep you were just relaxed under, "if i was really comparing you to a sea creature, you'd be a sea lion. cute on the outside, but horrible on the inside," you exaggerated.

alhaitham smirks, "you think i'm cute?"

you immediately notice where you've went wrong. you can't hide your flustered expression from alhaitham this time. you wouldn't be surprised if the bastard planned this. "i also said you were horrible."

"but you also said i was cute," he retorted as if he was boasting.

"emphasis on was. maybe not anymore," you couldn't help but smile at your response.

alhaitham pressed a kiss to your temple, "really? not at all?" he raised an eyebrow as he looked down into your eyes. they say eyes are the window to the soul, and alhaitham is one to think that it is true. he didn't really believe it before he met you, but now, everytime alhaitham looks at you it's as if he can understand everything you're trying to say based on one gaze.

alhaitham was already leaning forward when you decided to kiss him, like he knew that it was coming. cocky, you wanted to think. but you know that's not the truth.

alhaitham knows you so well that it's disgustingly endearing.

hi guys!! sorry i've been away for so long. my writer's block has been so bad and it also doesn't help that i've began my six-week volunteer program as well as other work. i'll try to regulate updates to be asap, but i still dk bc of my crazy schedule. hopefully i'll be able to update more often, but until then!

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #tell a friend to tell a friend... SHES BACKKKKKK #for now at least idk my schedule is hella wild rn #i hope i got his character right bc im fairly new to writing abt genshin #haven't played that game since 2021

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zolass · 1 month ago

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ㅤㅤ 𝗔 𝗟𝗲𝗶𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴

ㅤ···─A LEISURE MORNING with EMIL LANDORR

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCharacter by @yanderefarm

Summary: After an eventful night, the morning after seemed to be the perfect plum cherry on top. wc: 600+

tags: taller! M reader, fluff, needy Emil, OOC Emil, mentions of sex and murder, +

Note: I find myself currently rather intrigued currently with the characters from yanderefarm, and even though I like yandere characters, I'm so bad at writing them so- if the creator of the characters sees this I'm sry bc Emil is so going to be ooc.

Just a small scenario TvT

Anyways hope y'all enjoy, also if you don't know yanderefarm check him out.

A sneeze woke Emil up from his slumber, his eyes were still closed as he snuggled closer to the warmth that wrapped around his naked body. With a sigh he pressed his face against the warmth before he slowly blinked his eyes open, a warm feeling swirled in his chest as your sleeping figure came into his view.

He trailed his finger lazily over your chest, his wrist in the gentle grasp of your hand. A smile played on his lips as he continued to watch you sleep, suddenly he remembers that it wasn’t always this peaceful, at the beginning you hated him. Mostly because of the way he even got you on his side as his husband, it was a cruel way and it took a long time to get where the two of you are now.

But he would do it again, but maybe a bit differently. Instead of trying to marry your sister, he would rather take your hand in an instant.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the thumb that caressed his naked back, his cat-like pink eyes looked up at your face. A small smile played on your lips as well, while your tired eyes were focused on the smaller male in your arm.

And by the gods, he could melt into a puddle on the spot, by the way you were looking at him with affection. “Awake already, pretty?” you asked, with your voice laced with tiredness. Emil only hummed, “Yea– but it’s not as bad when one is greeted by such a nice view,” he responded, while placing his chin on your chest.

You put your head back into the soft pillows, before you rubbed your eyes while a yawn left your mouth. Emil placed kisses on your chest, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the tickling sensation.

With a swift movement, Emil found himself on his back, while your arms caged him in. The blonde had to bite his lip at the display of your naked body, a few years back you somehow managed to convince Emil to let you train with the soldiers, and since then you’ve bulked up a bit.

Of course he soon figured out it wasn’t a bad idea, as he could watch you train, the way your muscles would move beneath your skin and of course, the way you manhandle him now during sex, was another big plus point for both of you. His eyes focused on the gauze wrapped around your arm, you’ve gotten slightly distracted, giving your opponent in training the momentum to strike. You were able to jump back, but the sword still grazed your arm.

If you weren’t there to hold Emil back, the man's life would’ve been decreased to nothing. But still a bit of anger broodled inside of Emil, but the way he was so worried about you, even though it was basically a scratch, the teary eyes of your husband squeezed your heart.

That’s how you ended up with a long rough night, getting Emil’s mind off of the previous event.

You watched as Emil caressed your bandaged arm with utmost care, scared to hurt you. With a small smile on your lips, you leaned down and captured the lips of the blonde with your own. A slow passionate kiss, quickly clouded his mind, before you pulled back with a smile.

“What can I do, to get your mind off of these things, hm pretty?” you asked, even if it was rather obvious, by the way his pink eyes widened ever so slightly before a smile played on his lips. His fingers trailed from your chest downwards, “how about– another round?” Emil whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

You leaned down and kissed his nose, “I can’t possibly say no to that,” you said, before your hands placed themselves on his hips, and so you continued the activity from just a few hours ago.

By the end of it, Emil couldn’t feel his legs and was bedridden, yet he couldn’t complain as you took your day off of training, to pamper him.

#zolass writes #mlm #male reader #male x male #oc x male reader #fluff #x male reader #zolass fanwriting

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hotluncheddie · 4 months ago

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I'm on that autistic Steve shit!!!! (sorry no hc of Eddie.... can only focus on Steve ❤️)..... my favorite favorite favorite autistic Steve hc is that he is so so charming so charismatic so cool but it's entirely an act..... like he learned it from books and movies and watching other people and like his emotional / social intelligence is thru the roof bc of that.... I think I saw it described in a fic once as "he knows exactly what people want to hear"..... and I think he does revel in being a chameleon and doing that but of course it's draining!!! my fav is him letting the mask down in front of Very Important people..... I'm writing a fic rn where when Steve tries to mask around hopper he's like "boy stop that you know you don't have to do that here"..... I get such such terminal Nothing Face after a long day and I like to think Steve does too and he's worried Eddie will find it off-putting the first time he shuts down and still wants to hang out with him..... but Eddie is so so endeared by it and is very gentle with him "you ran out of faces, huh baby? that's alright" .....

2jug2head “you ran out of faces, huh baby? That’s alright.” That honestly melted my heart. I had to curl up in a little ball to deal with that.

It’s !!!!! So !!!!!! Sweet !!!!!!!!!

and omg having Hopper be like that with Steve, letting him know in that blunt, simple Hopper way I'm !!!!!! thats so good !!!! I will love love love to read that fic when u finish it !!!! pls tag me if u post it !!!!

but yeah I really really hc Steve as being super high masking, very capable socially, very able to read people. he's used so much of his life to think about others and be what's best in any possible situation. he always wants to be perfect in his interactions with people, wants to 'win' at it. wants to be the best version of himself for every person that he meets. and he mostly does. he's good at it, he's smart and a lot of people follow the same sort of conversions, expect similar things. he’s been around enough people and been in enough situations to have scripts and reactions to most scenarios. he can recognise patterns well and so he does that, but with people, over and over and over. so much so that he doesn't even think about it now, doesn't really even realise what he doing.

he’s very capable, very good and smart socially, but it's to his detriment. it means no one really knows him. it means he doesn't really know himself.

it's like he's a little perfect puppet and when he's alone it feels like this freak monster comes out; with all these feelings and thoughts and emotions that he doesn't know what to do with, doesn't know if they're normal. and he doesn't know how to tell anyone about it either, how to express it or talk about in the right way.

because he's so so scared of being made fun of, or being alone; of being told off, or being weird. and sometimes it makes him so sad, because he doesn't always know how to stop - he's so quick to respond wth his scripts that he forgets to think about what he really thinks, really feels. and he can't stop.

to unmask, at times, most times, feels herculean - to show someone who you really are? that feels impossible. terrifying. to ask for time to think? to risk saying something wrong? being honest feels deeply unnatural somehow - to be honest about how he feels, what he thinks, what he needs. he just, he's never done that before...

so when he's navigating these people, these relationships he so so cares about. with Robin and Eddie and Dustin and Hopper, even.

this is the slew of feelings he has to wade through when trying to be close to them, to keep them, to do what they ask of him. this is what he has to work through. and sometimes, sometimes they act as if it's so easy. as if it is so easy to say the honest truth when asked 'what's up?' or 'what do you think?' or 'what do you want?'

that's not easy, its never been easy. and it makes him feel like a freak once he realises it should be.

yeah idk that got kind of sad, sorry. but like. this is where I imagine him, when you get to the good, lovely, cozy, wonderful parts. I just, I think this is the thing, my lovely wonderful high high high masking Steve - this is what he's going through to get to the good. and its hard.

#uhmmmm #yeah anyway #sorry i dunno why this came out but #yeah #ty for the ask i really do love talking about autistic Steve #<3 #autistic steve harrington #hotlunch #steddie #idk wether to tag people for this sorry sorry #high masking autism is a helluv a thing

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thebigsl33p · 11 months ago

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Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.

Main Masterlist

people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):

@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries

Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it?

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant.

So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories.

Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk.

No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos.

He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.

Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool.

He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.

But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.

For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.

The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.

It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.

This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned.

Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker.

To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way.

He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.

When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way.

He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over.

He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes.

Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement. He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly.

He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet.

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly.

The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit.

When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself.

And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come.

When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold…

She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here.

She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic.

She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax.

She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?”

“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.”

“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”

From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?”

She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.”

“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.”

Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?”

“Leonid.” He repeats.

“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?”

“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya?

He says it anyway.

“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?”

She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head.

“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”

“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him.

He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost.

She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff.

"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”

He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.

She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up.

He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking.

The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain.

They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.

He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful.

He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly.

“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her.

“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.

But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt.

The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake.

They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment.

In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve.

Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows.

They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies.

He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use.

The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it.

He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food.

He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”

Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire.

She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him.

“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand.

She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a mouthful of cake.

She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?”

And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…” he gestures at her - at her glowing.

Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?”

“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms.

She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little.

“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl.

“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.”

And again, they both laugh.

Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things.

The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers.

They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction.

They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did.

They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.

Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.”

His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword.

The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer.

Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs.

He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining,

Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes.

He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees.

The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm.

The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly.

She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot.

He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away.

Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp.

After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.

Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake!

But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun.

One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead.

“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-”

“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.”

He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath.

He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said.

She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say.

“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.”

“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.

He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features.

He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.”

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even.

“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.”

She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right.

“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently.

“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.”

She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.”

Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.”

Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’.

He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha.

It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.

The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times.

The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow.

But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.”

“Grisha?” The man interrogates.

Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.”

Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair.

Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening.

“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…”

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.”

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary.

Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further.

It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they’re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.

But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.

The confession comes late at night.

Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts.

He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind.

Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world…

No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired.

His feet take him to her room.

It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that.

Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy.

The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times.

By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly.

The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire.

“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing.

“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you.

But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?”

“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”

He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.”

She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.

Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.”

“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.

He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently.

“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?”

His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?”

She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.”

Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention.

It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word.

“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed.

“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke.

“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her.

“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.”

“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed.

The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.”

“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”

A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3

#Last Words of A Shooting Star AU #Stardust AU #the darkling X reader #Shadow And bone X reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #stardust au #thebigsl33p

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