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lotusbxtch · 1 month ago

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SoCal to NorCal: Chapter 3 - Mill Valley

Series Masterlist Chapter 1: Malibu Chapter 2: Hwy 101 & Beyond

Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together? - or - you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Chapter 3: Mill Valley

Chapter Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader x Joel Miller Chapter Summary: The three of you are finally together, and sparks ignite passionate flames that will change everyone. Word Count: 8.8k - get a snack, it’s a long one! Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI

Warnings/tags: polyamory, consumption & preparation of food and alcohol, MFM dynamics, MMF dynamics, brief masturbation, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up, folks!), multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, multiple creampies, cum kink, cum eating (Frankie is a bit of a cumslut tbh), squirting (there’s a lot of fluids lol i’m sorry in advance if that’s not your thing), slight size kink, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, heavy use of Spanish pet names/nicknames/phrases, Frankie and Joel are switches in this one, sub!Reader, Frankie the PEK, consent kings, Joel’s filthy mouth is absolutely its own warning but Frankie’s gets one too this time, romance, idiots in love, a splash of angst, soft!Joel but also menace!Joel because we love a man with duality, brief mention of Frankie’s young daughter named Isabella, brief mention of parental & relative deaths, Reader uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, no use of y/n. Everyone is testing negative for STDs and Reader is on birth control.

a/n: the moment you’ve all been waiting for! This chapter was a labor of love because I wanted to get the dynamics *just* right. These three are so special to me, and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention @for-a-longlongtime (who also beta read), @mountainsandmayhem (my daddy and beta reader), and @alltheirdamn - my lovely girlies who helped me shape this story. Shoutout to @mermaidgirl30, @joelmillerisapunk, @sin-djarin, and @yxtkiwiyxt who I’ve given little previews of so we could scream together about them. Please let me know if I’ve missed any tags! Dividers & banners by the lovely @saradika-graphics, thank you. (Please note that the chapter graphic is NOT meant to be accurate to Reader — vibes only!)

If you enjoy my writing, please leave a comment, feedback or reblog! It would mean the world to me. Thank you!

“I don’t know why they call it the Golden Gate Bridge when it’s red and not gold.”

You roll your eyes hard as Frankie snorts at his own awful joke, and turn your attention to the blue-gray waters below you & the bridge. The breeze whips through your hair and the Jeep’s interior, ruffling your boyfriend’s dark brown curls peeking out from under his trusty Standard Oil ballcap.

“One more bad joke and I’m going to toss you off the Marin Headlands when we get over the bridge,” you quip at him.

Frankie grabs your hand, kissing the back of it with a smack. “You would never, hermosa.”

A bright smile lights up your face as you look at him. “You’re lucky that you’re so cute, Morales.”

After an early breakfast in Santa Cruz, you and Frankie continued northwards on your road trip. You opted to drive I-280, the highway providing fantastic views of the lush evergreen trees and rolling hills you loved so much. Frankie couldn’t get over how wildly green it all looked, especially since he’d spent so much time in Los Angeles amongst the concrete and manicured lawns.

You’d stopped for lunch at your favorite San Francisco dim sum restaurant, hotly debating with Frankie which one of the many bamboo steamer rounds contained the best dish - your favorite is xiao long bao, while Frankie favors black bean pork spareribs. Both of you agreed that the dan tarts were amazing, so you’d bought a few to-go for Joel to savor later. Now, you’re driving across the Golden Gate Bridge into Marin County, heading towards your and Joel’s house in Mill Valley.

You sigh and pull the forest green plaid button up a bit tighter around you; despite the sun peeking through, it’s still cold, per usual for this time of year in the north Bay Area.

Frankie clocks your movement, and smirks knowingly at the shirt. “Does he know you took it?”

“Maybe,” you purr mischievously. “He’ll know soon enough if not.”

Huffing a laugh, Frankie turns back to the road, flipping on the turn signal before hooking a right onto your residential street. Majestic redwoods line the road, towering overhead, and you sigh in relief and comfort at the familiar sight. Living here with Joel makes you feel closer to nature than your apartment in Los Angeles. The stress melts out of your bones with each breath of fresh air.

As you drive down the quiet street, you see your beautiful house appear. Slightly younger redwoods surround both sides of the corner lot property, isolated from your next-door neighbors. The two-story craftsman home is spacious but cozy, with warm-stained cedar shingles wrapping around the exterior, complimented by deep sage trim. Native plants thrive in the front yard, and smoke leisurely meanders from the chimney, lending an enchanted ambiance. It’s the perfect balance of your and Joel’s vibes: a modern forested haven.

Frankie approaches your river-rock paved driveway, pulling in carefully next to Joel’s well-worn charcoal pickup truck. Your heart swells in happiness at the sight of it. Following, however, are tiny pings of nervousness and excitement. You glance at Frankie; his expression is calm but unreadable. Typical of Frankie – his Delta Force background and introverted personality mean that he habitually retreats a bit into himself in new situations to observe quietly. Squeezing his hand, you give him a soft smile, which he returns as he squeezes your hand back and puts the car into park. It feels a bit strange to have your boyfriend in a place foreign to him but so familiar to you.

You hear your front door squeak open before you see Joel’s broad frame exit, dashing in a denim button up and his Levi’s. The double-denim outfit would look ridiculous on most other men, but not Joel; the weathered blue only enhances his rugged handsomeness.

Popping out of the Jeep, you call out, “Hi, baby!” while bounding over to him. His eyes flit over you, an amused look on his face when he spots your overshirt.

“I was wonderin’ where my favorite flannel went,” he chuckles. “Should’a known you were gonna take it with you.”

“It’s my favorite too,” you quip back, setting down the box of dan tats for Joel on the driveway so you can wrap your arms around his neck. You press a kiss to his full lips. “I can borrow it whenever I want. Wife privileges, you know.”

Joel rolls his eyes but smiles, giving your backside a soft smack and laughing when you yelp playfully. “Get your cute ass inside. We’ll take care of the luggage, baby.” You squeal in delight and nod, picking the box back up and heading towards the house. Frankie swings open the tailgate, removing his and your bags from the back.

Joel rounds the car, and Frankie takes a breath to steady himself. Everything is going to be fine.

“Hey, Frankie,” Joel greets the other man with a warm handshake and a clap on the shoulder.

“It’s so great to meet you in person, Joel,” Frankie says warmly. The two men look at each other for a moment, and then Frankie bends to pick up your luggage at the same time Joel does. Their hands brush at the handle and both jolt a little at the contact.

Frankie pulls back sheepishly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Ah, I’ll let you take your wife’s things, I guess,” he sputters a bit. God, why do I feel so awkward with Joel? He literally told me to eat out his wife on video chat.

“You mean our girl,” Joel corrects before smiling at Frankie warmly, lifting the case with ease and tipping his head towards the house as he walks towards it. Frankie smiles tentatively at him and nods, a bit relieved, and grabs his own bag. “C’mon,” Joel says, “let’s get these bags inside so both of you can settle in a bit before we start prepping for dinner.”

Once the guys drop off the luggage into the entryway, you and Joel lead Frankie on a tour of your house. Dark hardwood floors contrast with the muted tones of the walls, each room a different soft color. The furnishings are modern with a slight vintage flair, creating a cozy yet refined atmosphere. A wood-burning fireplace sits in the corner of the living room, a fire softly crackling inside. You explain where each of your favorite decor and furniture items came from – you and Joel tend to patronize the local thrift markets and mom & pop shops, which creates a softly eclectic feel.

Frankie runs his hand across the back of the plush cream couch as he looks up at the skylights in the ceiling. “Tons of natural light, that’s awesome,” he notes.

“That was my one non-negotiable when we were looking at houses,” you note. “Say what you want about marriage being a compromise, but that was one thing I couldn’t imagine living without.”

Joel nods. “If she doesn’t get enough light durin’ the day, especially in the winter, she gets in a bad way,” he notes. You scoff at your husband’s (admittedly astute) observation.

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Frankie chuckles, admiring the bank of wide windows across the kitchen and the sets of French doors leading out to the enclosed patio and backyard. “One time in December, I caught her sunning herself like a lizard in this little shard of light coming into my living room.”

“Frankie!” you gasp in false indignation, eyes darting between the two of them as they suppress laughter. “Not even an hour in and you’re already ganging up on me? How rude.”

“That’s our girl,” Joel smirked, clapping Frankie on the shoulder as he leads the way towards the stairs to show him the bedrooms.

Our girl. Warmth seeps into Frankie’s heart as he follows Joel upstairs.

While you unpack your bags, Joel and Frankie head out to the nearby corner grocery for dinner supplies and the adjacent liquor store for some of the new shipment of Japanese whiskey that the store’s owner, Bill, had set aside for Joel.

Talking with Frankie is surprisingly easier than Joel thought it would be. He’s a bit more serious than Frankie, sure, and there’s a difference in age, but they have quite a few common interests; it turns out that both of them are football fans, for one. While Joel is a diehard Houston Texans fan, Frankie roots for the Los Angeles Rams. Despite their difference in football fandoms, they both are avid grillers. They also both fish: Joel prefers lake fishing and Frankie loves to go on ocean fishing excursions. Surprisingly, you’ve managed to turn them both into unironic fans of The Great British Bake-off – they agree that the camaraderie and wholesome nature of the show is a balm to the sometimes-cruel world.

As it turns out, they’re also similar in their values.

“For most of my adult life, it’s just been me and my brother, Tommy,” Joel explains, shifting the grocery tote on his shoulder as they walk back to the house. “Our parents died when we were teenagers, and then our only aunt in California passed away when I was 21 and Tommy had just turned 18. He was — is — a pain in my ass, but he’s my brother, so I did what I could to take care of the two of us. That meant workin’ in construction to make ends meet, and bailin’ his ass out after he came back from the Army and kept getting into trouble.”

Frankie huffs as he shakes his head. “I… can relate to that on a few levels. Mi mamá raised me alone in east LA. All we had was each other. When I got old enough, I joined the Army, too. Made it into the Delta Force.”

“That ain’t easy,” Joel notes, waving to the owner of the shop across the way.

Sadness flashes across Frankie’s face, but he quickly schools it, the operative in him taking over. “Yeah. My teammates and I ended up out in Florida after we left. Sort of became each other’s family.” He swallows hard.

Joel doesn’t miss the shift in emotions. “My brother was in Operation Desert Storm,” he explains. “The kind of shit they experienced together sort of… trauma bonded them to each other.”

Frankie nods in agreement, then hesitates, looking unsure. Joel knows from experience with his brother that military members aren’t often keen on sharing their vulnerabilities with others. He can’t imagine it’s any easier given he’s the husband of Frankie’s girlfriend.

They both stop to admire a miniature train set in motion in the window of a toy store. After a few moments, Joel turns to Frankie.

“I know you’ve had your fair share of difficulties, but I want you to know that you only have to tell me what you want me to know,” Joel says softly. “I’m practically a stranger, so I’m not expectin’ you to divulge your deepest secrets to me. But know that whatever you say, I won’t be passin’ judgement.”

Frankie exhales a shaky breath, clearly relaxing at Joel’s reassurance. He begins to walk towards the house once again, Joel falling into step by his side.

“I had a rough go of things after our last mission,” Frankie murmurs. He grows quiet for a few breaths, concentrating his gaze on the pavement under his feet as they walk. “To straighten myself out, I moved back to LA. Despite everything I’d done and been through, my mom never wavered in her support of me. And after a while, my daughter and her mother also moved back so we could share custody again. So, family is really important to me, too.”

He takes a deep breath, looking over at Joel, whose eyes haven’t wavered from his. A sense of recognition hangs palpably in the air between them. Joel’s never held anything against anyone who’s struggled in their life, especially if they’ve proven they can turn things around. He saw it with Tommy, and he can see it in Frankie’s countenance clear as day.

“I’m glad to hear that,” the older man says simply, giving Frankie a small smile. Although they’d met less than 12 hours ago, Joel feels far more comfortable around him than he imagined he’d be.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

The incredible smells wafting from the kitchen wake you from your nap. Stretching your limbs, you climb out from under your sherpa blanket and pad to the kitchen. You smile softly, quietly taking in the scene before you. Joel is chopping green onions on the kitchen island while Frankie mixes broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots in olive oil, sprinkling in seasoning between tosses. Pearl Jam plays softly from the bluetooth speaker.

“Whatever you’re making smells so good,” you purr at Joel, kissing his neck and peering over his shoulder.

Joel chuckles. “That’s all Frankie, baby,” he says, motioning towards your boyfriend with his chin. “He’s makin’ us his famous roast chicken.”

You squeal excitedly. “Oh my god, yay! It’s one of my favorite things he makes!” Hopping over to Frankie, you wrap your arms around his waist and mold your body to his back, peppering kisses across his broad shoulders. He sets the bowl of vegetables down, wiping his hands on a towel before turning to face you.

“Joel mentioned that you’ve talked about it ad-nauseum so he finally wanted to try it for himself,” Frankie explains, placing his hands on your waist. “And you’ve hyped up Joel’s cheesy garlic bread, so I figured it would be a fair trade.”

You beam at Frankie, thrilled that the two of them are seemingly getting along great. “Your signature dishes! This is awesome.”

“It’s pretty much all I can make besides grilled meat and breakfast food,” Joel laughs while he mixes the garlic bread spread.

You giggle, draping your arms around Frankie’s neck as you look at your husband. “You’re lucky I like cooking; our cholesterol levels would be through the roof if it was up to you to provide sustenance.”

“And I thank the heavens every day that you do, sweetness,” Joel demures, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he walks around you and Frankie to grab the cut baguette for the garlic bread.

You turn to Frankie and notice emotions fighting across his face - warmth, admiration, and hesitation. He’s been reserved with his displays of physical affection since arriving, despite his usual habit of almost always keeping his hands on you at any given moment. To reassure him, you pull him into you and kiss his lips softly. He hums quietly and returns the kiss. Pulling back, he cups the sides of your face and caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes gentle, earthy pools of devotion.

Your heartbeat kicks up. Emotions flood your mind as memories of the road trip play in your mind, Frankie’s eyes searching yours while you breathe each other’s air. Words unspoken seem to thicken the space between the two of you.

The nervousness about Frankie meeting Joel has faded throughout the day — he fit so well into your dynamic with Joel that it almost felt like he’d always been there. Now, the fluttering in your stomach has more to do with why.

Your lips part, about to bring your feelings to the surface, but before you can, Frankie shifts slightly to gently smooch your forehead, then picks up the bowl of vegetables again. Your breath whooshes from your chest quietly, your lips pressing together. He turns his attention back to cooking and spreads the produce across a baking sheet.

“Do you mind putting another log on the fire, honey?” Joel calls over to you, sliding the garlic bread into the top oven before Frankie places his tray of vegetables into the bottom oven with the chicken.

“Yep!” you respond, padding back into the living room to toss more firewood into the flames. With both of your men engrossed once again in dinner prep, you meander to the couch. You sink into the cushions, biting your lip while your mind turns over where your blossoming feelings for Frankie might lead all three of you.

You want to ask Frankie if he feels it too: that pull of your heart to his, the tug that goes beyond just physical chemistry. The ease with which he slots into your life, this life with Joel. Does he feel like a puzzle piece has surfaced, one that he didn’t even know he was missing until it snapped into place?

And Joel. He’s always so good at reading people, so he has to have clocked your emotions, even if you’ve been denying them yourself. He’s okay with you sleeping with other people, and clearly he doesn’t take issue with you being affectionate towards Frankie in front of him. Nonetheless, he didn’t sign up for his wife falling for another man. The guilt settles like a film over the effervescent happiness of the day thus far. Joel is the ultimate giver to those he loves… but are you pushing him past his boundaries?

After your delicious dinner in the dining room, the three of you migrate back to the cozy couch, each nursing a finger of the Japanese whiskey, the complex swirls of subtle fruit, vanilla, and toffee dancing across your tongues. The meandering conversation shifts back to your (tried and failed) attempts at the Santa Cruz carousel ring toss.

“See, baby, I told you that chuckin’ that ring won’t do you any good.”

You guffaw at your husband’s disapproval of your carousel ring toss strategy at the Santa Cruz boardwalk. “Oh, I’m outnumbered? You actually agree with Frankie on this one?”

“Yeah,” Joel shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m glad someone else finally had the sense to tell you that just throwin’ the ring at the hole won’t do you any good.”

“Maybe if you quit clowning around and aimed, you’d actually make it in,” Frankie quips, and he and Joel dissolve into laughter at the cheesy pun.

You roll your eyes. “Ugh, I’ve created a monster. I can’t believe you both are so fluent in dad jokes. Clearly I’ve made a mistake bringing the two of you together.”

Joel chuckles, chuffing your chin with his finger and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Pffft, good try. I’ve known you long enough to know you love the cheese.” You roll your eyes again but can’t help a smile from gracing your lips.

You sit with your back leaning against Joel’s side, cradled by his strong bicep wrapping around your front. His fingers caress your shoulder and arm absentmindedly while the conversation shifts to Joel’s latest woodworking projects. Your feet sit in Frankie’s lap, his long, thick fingers massaging out a knot in your calf, head nodding and eyes on Joel as he listens and asks questions. Frankie’s been wanting to get into a new hobby that uses his hands, so he was excited when you told him that Joel is a lifelong wood crafter.

Looking between Joel and Frankie, you can’t help but feel your body begin to buzz - and it’s only partially the whiskey talking. Here are your two favorite men in the world, finally together, both with you. It’s something you only allowed yourself to dream about in the dead of night, when Frankie had Isabella with him and Joel was wiped out from work.

When you’d lay in your LA rental alone, body writhing under the sheets, thighs parted and fingertips slick with your arousal; swirling away at your center while fantasizing about your husband and your boyfriend taking turns with you, or even sharing you simultaneously. You’d bit the pillow to stifle your moans on more than one occasion as you came, dripping onto the sheets. Always assuming it was nothing more than wishful thinking, that Joel wouldn’t be keen on sharing you in person, that Frankie wouldn’t want to fuck you in front of your husband. That the three of you would never end up spending time together.

But now, it’s real. And you can’t wait a second longer to finally live your dream.

You try to be subtle at first: slipping your feet further up Frankie’s legs, shifting your body to press your breasts out more invitingly, and slowly letting your hand slide down Joel’s thigh. But Joel, if nothing else, is keenly observant, and he clocks your intentions immediately.

His voice halts for a moment, and then a deep chuckle vibrates his chest. “Whatcha doin’ there, wanderin’ hands?” he teases you, grabbing your advancing hand gently.

You feign innocence. “Oh, I’m not doing anything,” you blink up at him with big eyes, playing the part. “Just happy to have you two here with me.”

Joel huffs and gives you a soft sideways smile, his dimple popping at your games. He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles sweetly. “Don’t you dare try to use the same tricks on me that you did 10 years ago. Naughty thing.”

His large hand shifts from your shoulder to your neck, clasping the breadth of it gently: not enough to restrict your blood flow, but enough to let you know he wants to call the shots tonight. Despite that, the action pulls a whine from your throat and makes you just as dizzy with need. Frankie swallows hard at the sight before him.

“Do you want us?” Joel asks.

“Yes, Joel,” you nearly whimper.

“Now tell me, sweetness,” Joel continues, leaning forward to murmur in your ear, “what d’ya want? Do you want us to take our time? Lay you out on the bed and take you apart piece by piece?” He presses a kiss to your jaw, sending shivers down your neck. “Or do you want us to ruin you right here, fuck you on these cushions until you’re screamin’ our names?”

The combination of absolute filth pouring from Joel’s mouth and his hand encasing your throat sets your body on fire and triggers slick to pool in your panties. You glance down at Frankie’s lap and see how hard he’s become in seconds. His pupils are blown, eyes obsidian pits of desire. There’s a part of you that wants them to take you immediately, but you know you want your first time with the two of them to be unhurried.

“Bedroom, Joel,” you breathe. “I want to make this last.”

Joel lets out a satisfied growl. “Good girl, telling us what you want. Do you want Frankie to kiss you?” Frankie’s breathing gets heavier as Joel releases his hand from you and nuzzles your cheek.

“Yes, god, please,” you whimper. Frankie places one of your feet on the ground carefully and spreads your legs so he can crawl on top of you, kneeling at the base of your thighs. After taking off his hat, he glances up and makes eye contact with Joel, who gives the slightest nod. It’s not lost on you how close the three of you are, breathing the same air, panting with need.

You pull Frankie to your lips, hands framing his face just as he cups the base of your skull with his palm. The moment your lips touch, both of you let out stifled moans, and you melt when you feel Joel’s arm wrap tighter around you. His big paw slides over your torso to cup your breast through your flannel - his flannel - and your tank top, thumb teasing your nipple into a hard peak.

You and Frankie continue to deepen the kiss, the arousal growing between all three of you. One of your hands glides over your husband’s meaty thigh to palm at his quickly-hardening cock. The other winds its way into your boyfriend’s silken curls, pulling lightly and eliciting a hiss from him.

He bites your lower lip and grabs your hip, grinding his length against your jeans-covered center. “Fuck, nenita,” he groans. All you can do is whine his name in response.

“Let’s take her upstairs,” Joel directs, sucking a quick hickey into your neck that makes you gasp. Frankie nods and wraps your legs around his waist while you continue to pepper kisses across his face and neck. Both men ascend the stairs towards the main bedroom with you in tow.

Once you step foot in the bedroom, Frankie sets you onto your feet and immediately starts kissing you again, licking into your mouth when you gasp. His hands slide down to cup your ass through your jeans. You open your eyes briefly to look for your husband, who’s leaned against the door frame, arms folded casually, as if this is just another Friday evening.

Frankie bites your lip, eliciting yet another gasp from your mouth, while Joel stalks towards the two of you. He slides behind you, grabbing Frankie’s hips to pull the both of you into him, and grinds his thick erection against the swell of your backside. Frankie jumps a bit, surprised, but groans lowly in his throat. Moaning, you reach your hand back blindly to guide Joel’s head towards your neck. He chuckles, knowing exactly what you want, and sucks another love mark into the soft skin there.

You feel intoxicated, on another planet, ceasing to exist in the bounds of time and space. Just floating, a vibrating being made only of raw desire for the two men surrounding you.

“Help me get her clothes off,” rasps Joel, and the two of them work in tandem to strip you of the offending garments. Four hands pull cloth away, stroke your hot, exposed skin, glide along your curves, making you sing the sweetest song of sighs, whines, and whimpers. You break your kiss with Frankie when he looks down to pop the button to your jeans, and turn your head to the side to pull your husband’s mouth to yours, noticing the infinitesimal difference between the taste of him and the way Frankie tastes. Joel growls into you, sliding his tongue along your teeth, and you swear your legs are going to turn to jelly. Joel’s leather & spice scent intertwines with Frankie’s rosemary and cedar aroma, combining into the perfect addictive cocktail.

All you can see, smell, taste, touch, feel, is them. Your men.

Once you’re stripped bare, you look between the two of them. “Please,” you beg, and the two men nod, starting to hastily shed their own clothing. You climb onto the bed, the olive washed-linen bedding soft against your heated body. Spreading your thighs, you slip your fingers around your drenched folds, body humming with need. A needy whine escapes your lips, and Joel looks up from dropping his jeans to his ankles.

“Uh-uh, darlin’,” he tuts. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself.” You withdraw your fingers but pout. Frankie smirks at your display of frustration while he whips his t-shirt off, baring his golden chest.

“Listen to Joel if you want to get your rewards,” Frankie reminds you. You part your thighs wider for him, hoping to entice him into breaking. He groans at the sight, his eyes becoming glassy. “You’re playing dirty,” he grouses.

Joel, now completely bare, looks over to see you laying your trap for Frankie. He shakes his head. “Naughty girls don’t get their sweet little cunts licked,” Joel singsongs at you.

He grabs you gently by the throat. “Listen very carefully if you want to come tonight.” You nod, your body flaring with desire at Joel’s dominance as you give him your full attention. “I’m going to sit against this headboard, and you are going to sit right between my legs, with your back to me. I’m going to spread your pretty thighs for Frankie and he’s going to eat you out until you come for us. Understood?”

You nod rapidly. “Words, sweetness,” Joel reminds you.

“Yes, Joel,” you barely manage to squeak out. Joel murmurs approvingly, and slides himself behind you. Bracketed on either side by his strong thighs, you’ve never felt more safe.

Once the both of you are settled in position, Joel leans towards you again. “What’s our safeword?”

“Persimmon,” you and Frankie say in unison.

Joel looks up at Frankie, slightly surprised, a devious smile curling his lips. “Such a good girl, explaining our rules to Frankie,” he purrs into your ear, and you preen at the praise. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze flick momentarily to Frankie’s naked body and hard cock bobbing proudly, and you feel his breath catch in his chest.

“If things are getting to be too much for either of you, we can slow down or stop,” he reminds both of you. With that, Joel grips your thighs with huge hands.

“Frankie,” Joel commands gently. “Come suck on her pretty little pearl.”

Frankie’s smirk deepens, and he slinks onto the foot of the bed, crawling on hands and knees towards the two of you. You drape each of your legs over Joel’s thighs, and he uses his hands to angle you open even further. Frankie’s eyes shift between your shining center and your flushed face as he lays himself between your thighs. You feel entirely exposed, on display.

Frankie licks his lips, and you let out an anticipatory whimper.

“You’re desperate to taste her, aren’t you?” Joel prompts Frankie. You see your boyfriend’s dark eyes meet your husband’s deep amber ones, so similar.

“Been thinking about it all day,” Frankie admits, slowly dragging his lips and tongue from the inside of your knee to the junction of your thigh. “Driving me crazy with those tight jeans of hers.” Shivers erupt across your skin, your breathing harsh from their teasing.

“Those are my favorite pair of her jeans,” Joel agrees. “They cup her ass so nicely.” Frankie hums, biting your thigh gently and then soothing the pinch with his tongue. You keen quietly and arch your back.

“Look at how wet she is for us,” Frankie notes with adoration, teasing the outside of your slick folds with the pads of his fingers, watching how your pussy clenches on nothing. He chuckles, then swipes his digits through your arousal and brings them to your lips.

“Taste yourself, nenita,” he husks, and you comply, sucking his fingertips into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them. Your own sweet tang coats your mouth. He groans, grinding into the mattress, and then Joel is grabbing your chin to kiss you. Your lips part with a sigh, and Joel massages your tongue with his own, tasting your flavor for himself. His chest vibrates against your back with his growl of satisfaction.

Frankie’s hands grip your thighs as he watches the exchange. “She always tastes so damn good,” he hums, kissing your cunt with a smack.

Joel parts from your lips and nods. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever eaten.”

You squirm and moan, making Frankie chuckle again. “Is there something you want?”

“Does our girl need to come?” Joel croons, running his hands along the inside of your thighs.

Nodding your head rapidly, you beg, “Please, Frankie.” You see Frankie’s lip curl into a smirk, and then he licks a broad stripe up the length of your cunt. A high-pitched whine escapes your mouth as you throw your head back against Joel’s sturdy shoulder.

“That’s right, let Frankie know how good his mouth feels,” Joel coaxes you, and Frankie starts eating your pussy with vigor. He keeps his hands on your thighs, opening you wide for your boyfriend, who’s latched onto your swollen clit and is suckling it gently while he strokes your inner walls with two fingers.

“You’re making me feel so good, baby,” you gasp, looking between your legs at Frankie coaxing your body into pleasure. Joel’s hands briefly squeeze your thighs harder at your words. His cock presses thick and firm against your lower back, aroused at watching another man bringing you pleasure. One of your hands reaches back to grip Joel’s arm, while the other tangles in Frankie’s soft curls, keeping him locked onto your core. Finally being held by the both of them at the same time makes your head spin.

Your orgasm gathers in your bones, your breaths coming in pants as your legs start to shake. Joel slides his right hand from your thigh up your torso to your breast, flicking your nipple with his thumb until it pebbles, causing you to gasp.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan to your husband, your boyfriend doubling down on your ministrations to your folds.

Suddenly, Joel booms, “Stop, Frankie.”

The younger man immediately parts from your center and looks at your husband, eyes flashing with surprise and another, more feral emotion. You whine loudly, your orgasm beginning to fade.

“Joel,” you beg, both a question and a plea. He smirks against your neck.

“Did you ever notice how when you deny her orgasm, her whole chest and neck flushes hot?” Joel asks Frankie, almost as if you aren’t there. Your cunt pulses, desperate.

“N-No, actually,” Frankie stammers slightly, pupils blown as he looks at your naked body, a shimmer of sweat coating your skin like dew. “I… never actually deny her an orgasm.” His eyes move back to Joel, desperation tinging the periphery. “I just want to make her come, over and over again.”

Your chest heaves, dizzy with need. Fuck, this is so debauched and hot.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “Ahh, how sweet, always giving our girl what she wants,” Joel purrs. “It’s a good thing you follow directions like a good boy.” You swear you hear a moan that Frankie barely swallows.

“Kiss her,” Joel orders Frankie, and Frankie audibly groans this time before he crawls up your body to capture your lips with passion, making you gasp. He licks into your mouth, claiming you with visceral, searing intent. You whimper against him; tasting yourself on his tongue drives you mad. As you and Frankie continue to feed off each other, Joel sucks hot, wet kisses against your throat. You keen and press yourself into Joel harder, grinding your ass against his throbbing cock. He growls a bit, thrusting his hips lightly.

“Joel, please,” you beg in between kisses with Frankie.

“Tell me what you need, darlin’,” your husband coos.

You pull away from Frankie and take a steadying breath. “I need… more. I want to be filled up.”

Joel groans at your words, biting down at the juncture of your shoulder and neck, making you whine. “Fuck, such a needy little thing aren’t you?”

An impatient whine escapes your lips, and this time it’s Frankie chuckling. “Tired of my mouth on you, baby?”

“Never, Frankie,” you rasp. “I could never get enough of you.” Frankie kisses you deeply again; your fingers intertwine with his curly locks as your heart flutters. Breaking the kiss, you admit, “I want to feel both of you at the same time.”

He fucking whimpers at your request. Joel smiles wickedly into your shoulder.

“Well go on, then, sweetheart,” Joel rumbles. You lift your hips just enough for Joel to line himself up and sink into you. Both of you moan simultaneously as he fits himself snugly inside of your pussy. Pleasure sings in your veins, making you arch your back when he bottoms out.

Joel licks a line from the base of your neck upwards. “Feel better?” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, biting your earlobe. You gasp wordlessly, your core clenching on his thick length, making him groan in response. “Fuck… I’d say that’s a yes.”

Frankie sits back on his heels, taking in the sinful sight before him: Joel’s thick thighs holding you up; your soft legs spread open for him; pussy split open lewdly on Joel’s cock; your slick and cream gleaming at his base. His dick jumps, his eyes trained on where the two of you are joined.

In a potent haze of arousal, you start to grind on Joel, seeking any ounce of friction to quell the fire in your core, but he seizes your hips with his large paws, halting any movement. You cry out in confusion and need.

Joel snickers, amused. “Not so fast. I didn’t tell ya to move, did I?” You close your eyes in sweet frustration, your head tipping back against Joel’s broad shoulders as you shake your head.

“I’m gonna give you what you need, sweetness,” your husband promises you, then turns to Frankie.

“Francisco,” Joel commands. Your boyfriend snaps his head from looking between your legs to staring right into Joel’s eyes. His breathing picks up, a weighted thrill cascading down his spine from hearing his full name straight from Joel’s lips.

“Give our girl what she wants. Suck on her clit until she comes. And if she moves, don’t you dare give her your mouth. Understood?”

Frankie nods, his lips parted and soulful brown eyes full of desire. I’m so fucked, you realize in that moment.

Your boyfriend lays between your and Joel’s legs once again, subtly grinding into the mattress. He locks eyes with you, hovering over your throbbing clit, and blows cool air across it, making you twitch desperately as you will yourself to stay still, your velvet walls squeezing around Joel.

“Good girl,” your husband growls gently, kneading your hips reassuringly. Frankie props himself up on his elbows, then brings his thumb to your clit, gently pulling back on the hood to fully expose it. Swollen, flushed with heat, and shining with your arousal, Frankie can’t get enough of the sight.

“So beautiful, querida,” Frankie whispers reverently, then his mouth closes around your bud and sucks.

Restricted in your movements and trying to follow Joel’s directions, the flare of pleasure you experience is released by your body as a long, low moan. Frankie groans at your taste and sounds, his tongue swirling over your pearl in a precise pattern, and with the exquisite stretch of Joel’s cock against your walls, your nerves feel like they’re on fire. Your orgasm once again begins to build, slick slowly drenching Joel, his length swelling harder inside of you with every minute that passes.

“Frankie,” you beg, “I want to come so badly. You’re making me feel so good.” His eyes flash to yours.

It’s like a switch flips in Frankie, and suddenly, your sweet boyfriend turns into a menace.

“Aww, pobrecita,” Frankie mocks lovingly, pressing a kiss to your clit. “A fat cock filling you up and my tongue playing with your little clit isn’t enough for you? So demanding for someone who has to be allowed to come.”

You gasp at Frankie’s words, not used to him being such a tease, but Joel’s dark laugh only eggs him on. Determined to pull out all the stops, Frankie flattens his tongue and traces the length of one side of your pussy, accidentally brushing right against Joel’s shaft in the process.

Your husband lets out a surprised moan and his cock throbs. His reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

“Joel?” Frankie asks, eyes wide, a dozen questions conveyed in a single look.

You turn to Joel, conflicting emotions flickering across his face: yearning, confusion, vulnerability; but glazed over it all is a powerful desire. Joel’s never shown interest in other men, you remember. You and Frankie hold your breath.

One of Joel’s calloused hands tentatively moves from your thigh to tangle in Frankie’s hair, cupping his skull. You feel Frankie’s shoulders shudder. The two men’s eyes lock.

Joel gives Frankie a small nod.

You feel the relief and excitement wash over Frankie’s figure in waves. “The safeword applies for you, too,” Frankie reminds Joel gently, and Joel nods again. The three of you breathe for a moment, on the verge of exploring uncharted territory.

And then, Francisco Morales begins to simultaneously, single-handedly, take you and Joel apart.

Frankie slides both arms under your and Joel’s legs, his hands coming up to grip the sides of Joel’s thighs from beneath to anchor him to the both of you. Joel’s cock twitches inside of you the second Frankie��s fingers brush his skin. He looks down at Frankie, his lips parted in awe, eyes dark with desire. Frankie holds Joel’s gaze as he gently licks the base of Joel’s shaft.

Soft moans crawl their way out of your husband’s throat, his grip on your thigh tightening even more as his other hand explores Frankie’s curls. Frankie laps at it again, this time dragging his tongue further up and onto your pussy lips, swirling around your clit again. You and Joel both moan sequentially, the sweetest sounds that Frankie’s ever heard in his life. His senses are flooded with your and Joel’s essences.

He continues licking Joel’s cock and your pussy, and slowly, your husband’s resolve begins to crumble. The wet, sloppy kisses Frankie laps across the two of you leave Joel panting for more, and he struggles to remain still inside of you. Meanwhile, your head is reeling - your boyfriend is licking your husband’s dick, and he’s enjoying it. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine this happening – and now, you can’t see, hear, feel anything but that.

“Frankie,” you whine, “please let me move.”

He peeks his head up from between your legs, where he’s been dutifully preoccupied. His lips shine with your arousal, and when he parts from your body, Joel groans in protest as well. Frankie smiles smugly, looking up at the two of you. “Do you think she deserves to come?” he asks your husband.

Joel’s chest heaves against your back. “Yes,” he grits out, his voice sounding raw. “She’s been so good for us.”

Frankie looks at you diabolically, his smile nearly predatory. “Look at that, nenita. Guess Joel is gonna reward you after all.”

Joel slides his hands from your thigh and Frankie’s head up your torso to cup your breasts gently, squeezing the heft of them and working his thumbs over your nipples. You keen, and he pulls your hair to the side to brush his lips over your neck. Shivers erupt across your skin.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages. “Let Frankie see how well you ride my cock.”

You groan in relief, and shift your legs to plant your shins against the bed. Rising up, you keep your eyes on Frankie while you slip Joel’s cock almost all the way out, and then swirl your hips as you slowly sink back down. Both men moan in unison; Joel closing his eyes and throwing his head back against the headboard, and Frankie with his gaze flitting between your face and the show between your legs.

“You look so good stuffed with Joel,” Frankie purrs, his face inches from where your most intimate parts slide together. You seat yourself further onto Joel. His fat tip kisses your cervix, teasing the nerve endings there, then he slips into just the right corner deep in you that only he and Frankie have ever found. Your loud gasp tells the men everything they need to know.

“Right there?” Joel asks rhetorically when you start to rock against it, your breath speeding up. You nod your head rapidly, mewling with pleasure. He thrusts up, meeting you with each movement.

Frankie takes that as his cue to latch back onto your puffy clit, and a hoarse whine rips from your throat. He moans in response. The vibrations from his voice pull you closer to your peak, your hips working against both Joel’s cock and Frankie’s mouth.

Moans, gasps, and whimpers fill the air. A thick fog of hedonistic energy crackles between the three of you. Every cell of your body is vibrating with pleasure. Your hand finds Joel’s own, tangled in Frankie’s hair, and your fingers intertwine, fully under the spell of the man bringing the both of you to the brink. Beneath you, you feel Joel’s thighs begin to shake, his thrusting becoming erratic. He’s right at the cusp of his orgasm.

“Frankie,” Joel groans, “Make our girl come.”

Frankie doesn’t need anything else. He swirls tiny, precise, fast circles against your throbbing pearl with his tongue, and between Joel’s cock and Frankie’s mouth, you shatter.

Spasms wrack your pussy as you squeal your two lovers’ names in succession, and both men curse. Below your thighs, you feel Frankie’s hand move to cup and massage Joel’s heavy sack, then he’s licking at Joel’s length desperately.

“Come for us, Joel,” Frankie begs. You swear you feel Joel stop breathing.

In the wake of the moment of stillness, Joel’s cock erupts inside you, his hot seed painting your cunt. A strangled cry shoots from his lips, and his hand crushes against Frankie’s skull and your fingers. His entire body shakes, and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt your husband fall apart so thoroughly.

Frankie, drunk on your dual orgasms, laps ferociously between your thighs, drinking up the combined nectar of your and Joel’s cum. The minute the both of you begin to relax, Frankie surges up, kissing you deeply. He feeds your and Joel’s essence to you with his tongue.

You’re in an absolute haze of ecstasy.

“Please, sweetness, I need to fuck you,” Frankie pleads, his body shivering with need. You lean forward, sliding off Joel’s cock, and let Frankie shift you until you’re perpendicular to your husband, draped across the middle of the bed on your back. Your boyfriend gets off of the mattress and stalks to the side where your feet lay, then pulls you towards him by your ankles until your hips are nearly dangling off the edge. His hard cock bobs angrily, the tip glistening with precum.

“Let me see you,” he whispers, spreading your thighs open. Your pussy is obscenely glazed with Joel’s cum, his milky spend clinging to every fold and curve between your legs. Frankie lets out a pained moan, and your breath hitches in response.

“Goddamn,” Frankie murmurs devotedly. “You’re a goddess.” He guides his cockhead through your silky folds, both of you moaning at the slipperiness. Your head lolls to the side. Joel watches you with tired but desirous eyes, clearly enjoying Frankie taking his turn. His softened cock lays across his thick thigh, the last of his cum dripping from the tip.

“Frankie, please,” you whine, spreading yourself even wider, your cunt fluttering in anticipation. Frankie groans, then shifts forward, spearing his hardness into you in one long thrust.

The sensation makes you keen, your back bowing off the bed sheets. Frankie secures your parted thighs with a large hand clamping down on each, and he moans unabashedly at the sight of his cock spreading your walls, some of Joel’s cum seeping out. Sinfully slick heat envelops his length, and it takes everything in him not to come on the spot.

“You’re still so tight, amorcita,” Frankie grits out, “still taking me so well.” He pistons in and out of your wrecked pussy, his thickness slicked up in your and Joel’s releases. Wet squelches from your pussy float through the air, dancing around your whines and Frankie’s grunts of pleasure.

It’s sensorially obscene in the most delicious way.

Waves of bliss wash across your body as Frankie drives you further towards your second orgasm. Sweat shines across his strong body; it clings like dewdrops to his forehead, his dark curls sticking to his skin here and there. You grasp his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality while he kisses that devastating spot within you with his cock. Unable to resist, you snake your fingers down towards your clit, starting to swirl and press exactly how you like it. A whine breaks free from his lips when he feels you start to tighten around him.

“Nenita,” Frankie cries out, his cock swelling even harder. “You feel so damn good.” He pauses to catch his breath for a moment, then gently moves your hands to your thighs, keeping them spread for him as he swipes his thumb over your throbbing pearl. Your moan hitches in rapturous pleasure. With Frankie fully in control of your body, you surrender to his ministrations, eyes sweeping across the sight of him driving himself deep inside you.

The bed shifts beside you, and you feel Joel pressing kisses over your heated skin. “You look so beautiful taking Frankie’s cock,” he murmurs. Your mind buzzes with warmth at his husky baritone, his lips leaving tingling trails in their wake across your forehead and neck. His calloused fingertips trace circles around your pebbled nipples, pinching and soothing repeatedly to enhance your pleasure.

Looking up at your husband, you whisper, “Kiss me.” Joel obliges, kissing you deeply, sliding his tongue along yours, your lips and tongues dancing as Frankie continues to cause your orgasm to rise further in your limbs with every thrust.

It’s even more perfect than you could have imagined.

Frankie moves your legs to rest upright along his torso, ankles on his shoulders, and the new angle has you breaking your kiss with Joel with a high-pitched whine. “Oh fuck, Francisco, right there,” you practically sob. Frankie leans his body into you a bit more, burying himself to the hilt each time, and Joel reaches over to rub your clit.

Having both men focused on bringing you to climax is a heady potion. Your thighs start to shake and every breath turns into a reedy cry. “Joel… Francisco… fuck!” you moan, tightening around Frankie’s girth, his thrusts beginning to speed up as he approaches his own orgasm. “You’re gonna make me come!”

“Then come for us, sweetheart,” Joel husks, and it’s enough to have you clamping down on Frankie’s cock, finally shattering with a scream.

Your cunt floods with slick, and when he withdraws slightly, you gush, splashing Joel’s hand, your thighs, Frankie’s cock and belly, and the bed. Frankie grits out a loud moan as he slams home, each thrust making you gush more, until he reaches his peak. He whimpers your name loudly as he buries himself a final time and unloads his spend into your pussy, his cum mixing with Joel’s inside of you, filling you to the brim. As your twin releases wane, Frankie carefully pulls out, collapsing at the end of the bed beside you, the both of you breathing hard.

“Good girl, darlin’,” soothes Joel, kissing your neck. Tears from the intensity of your peak roll down your hot cheeks. Your senses are pleasurably muted, brain fuzzy in the afterglow. Frankie rolls towards you at the same time Joel slots himself right next to you. Laying a hand on each of their bodies, you try to ground yourself as you come back to Earth. The thick musk of sex permeates the air; all three of you breathe heavily, blanketed with endorphins. Frankie and Joel both affectionately stroke your body, their touches soothing instead of arousing. You take turns kissing each man; your mouths move slowly against each other, soaking in the intimacy.

You knew your first time together would be hot, but you didn’t predict it would feel damn near magical.

After a few minutes, Joel sits up, stretching. “Why don’t you two get cleaned up in the shower, and I’ll change the sheets?” You nod, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then gives Frankie’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. The two men hold each other’s gazes for a moment, fondness and shyness battling in their eyes, then Frankie pats your thigh.

“C’mon, bebita, let’s get you clean,” Frankie encourages you, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up. He offers his hand to you and you accept the help, wiggling almost bonelessly off of the bed. Giggles bubble up your throat when you have to stem the warm flow of their seed from between your thighs with your fingers. Joel smacks your ass gently as you pass, eliciting more of your laughter as you and Frankie enter the bathroom.

You watch your boyfriend set up the dual-head shower, perching yourself on the marble countertop across the room. Your hand is still pressed to your center, but when Frankie’s done adjusting the water temperature, he spins around, getting to his knees in front of your spread thighs.

“Let me see,” he asks softly. You remove your fingers, letting the mixture of their warm cum seep from you like honeyed nectar. Frankie hums approvingly, then delicately laps at your folds and inner thighs to clean you up with his mouth. You run your dry hand through his curls, sighing happily, licking the taste of the three of you off the fingers of your other hand. Frankie looks up, and instantly captures your lips with his, radiantly smiling against your mouth.

The bliss, the peace, the happiness… you feel three little words rising in your throat. And you don’t know how much longer you can hold them off.

Or, at this point, if you even want to.

Have thoughts/thots, feelings, SCREAMS, asks? My inbox is open! 💌

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hotties4gojo · 1 month ago

Note

any headcanons for the jjk characters as partners and general headcanons that you have for them too??? :33

oooh ur unleashing the beast with this one… i have sooo many but I’ll try to be tame (no promises) (spoiler: I was not tame)

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, shoko ieiri, yuki tsukumo

satoru gojo:

• I don’t think he’s a fuckboy or player tbh. he’s a lover boy but you have to dig a little deep to even unveil that side of him… he’s cautious about getting into relationships in the first place. he has to know you for a while and really bond with you before even thinking of pursuing something with you. plus satoru’s an everything man and doesn’t want what they have to be something half-assed, artificial. he wants to give all of himself to you and vice versa and he needs to know that he’s enough for you to stay

• super affectionate!! aside from the obvious (constantly hugging you, hanging off of your shoulders, smothering you in kisses wherever and whenever he can, etc.), he shows his adoration for you in other ways. if they’re out and your hands are cold, he’ll intertwine their fingers and stuff their joined hands into one of his pockets. buys you new flowers every week but will purchase more sooner if he notices that they’re wilting in your vase. stamps syrupy sweet, cheesy sticky notes on your clothes and bags. randomly calls you in the middle of the day just to tell you he loves you. etc.

• tbh he really really really loves being the little spoon— there’s nothing better than you holding him with all the care in the world at the end of the day, your breaths puffing against the short hairs of his undercut, your arm around his waist. satoru also really loves cuddling positions where he can rest his head on your chest

• no matter what he’s doing (talking to the higher-ups, teaching, etc.), if you text him, satoru will stop everything just to check his phone and answer you. he screenshots his favorite conversations with you and keeps them saved in an album

• always matches your energy. aaand he subconsciously mirrors bits of you; like squeezing things that you say regularly into his vocabulary

• very early on in your relationship with satoru, you learn that hugging him from behind is dangerous (not really). one day he’s sitting on the couch and you hug him from behind, not expecting him to reach back without looking and physically flip you over the fawking couch so that you land on his lap with your back against his chest, alllll so that he could hold you. you make a note to yourself to never do that again

• when you’re mad at him, he’ll playfully annoy the shit out of you to break down your walls until you’re struggling to not laugh. satoru considers this to be a win, believing that things are now water under the bridge. however if you’re mad at him for something pretty serious, he’ll bring it up a few minutes after he’s gotten you into a better mood and apologizes in his own way, then hears you out as you air out all of your grievances. satoru listens much more intently than you think he is and strives to do better

• if satoru notices that you like something (and he always notices), prepare to get an abundance of whatever it is. you like candles? you come back home and he’s bought out half of bath and body works’ stock. there’s a book series that you love? he buys the full collectors edition AND somehow gets a signature from the author for you

• sometimes you say something sweet to him and he feigns ignorance just to hear it again. “what?” “I said (blank)” “no I heard you the first time 🥰 awww you’re sweet on lil’ ol’ me?”

• tries to act like he’s not squeamish with certain things but ends up making it obvious as fuck. if you throw up, he’s dry heaving and/or throwing up right next to you. dramatic as hell man…

other characters under the cut!!

suguru geto:

• if you ask suguru for help with something, he’s all in. will explain everything patiently and in great depth, which is usually pretty helpful— unless he needs to explain something ELSE beforehand and then y’all end up talking about 7292849 subjects. he’s extremely well-read and knowledgeable in many aspects and he wants to share everything he knows with you

• enjoys texts and calls with you but sliiiighrly prefers texts, just because he likes having physical evidence of their conversations so he can go back and read them from time to time, a private smile on his face the entire time. he really likes handwritten notes from you and letters as well + will do the same for you; thinks it’s very romantic

• and though he does slightly prefer texts, best believe that he eats up every voice message you leave him and will actively encourage you to send him more. suguru saves all of them so that he can listen to recordings of your voice when you’re not around. even if they’re just recaps of what you were doing that day, he treasures them all

• he’s wayyyy more into celebrity beef than you think he is. “suguruuu did you hear about x and y?” “yeah. and about how (obscure piece of information).” “where did you even find out about that…” “how did you Not know about that.”

• suguru often orders food for you if they’re out on a date or ordering in. he does it either cos you don’t want to or you’re indecisive and can’t figure out what you want to eat. he’s memorized your preferences so whenever he gets you to try something new, he nails it and you end up really enjoying what he chose

• a gentleman through and through mmmmhm! suguru makes you walk on the inside of the street to keep you away from the moving cars. he also matches your steps the entire time (will make you slow down if you’re both heading to a specific destination where their plans will interrupt their conversation, alllll cos he wants to hear you talk for a while longer). always pulls out your chair, opens doors for you, keeps his hand on the small of your back at all times ESPECIALLY in crowded areas

• already very empathetic by nature but he’s overlyyy empathetic with his loved ones— especially you. if you’re feeling low, it haunts his waking and sleeping thoughts. he won’t eat on his lunch breaks sometimes because he’s quietly angsting over you. accidentally neglects himself while trying to make sure that you’re healthy, happy, and at your best. he’s working on not doing this— puhhhhlease get this man some therapy…

• last one asleep, first one awake. his nightmares and insomnia keep him up, so he uses that time to quietly watch over you. though he definitely sleeps easier around you because your breathing lulls him to sleep. when you wake up he’s in the process of finishing making breakfast and coffee, which he brings to you in bed

• when you’re sick he makes immunity booster drinks for you, heats up some soup, and waits on you hand and foot. suguru goes alllll out when taking care of you

toji fushiguro:

• you know when your parents says something so horrifically embarrassing and/or crude that you never wanna go out in public with them again. that’s toji. this man has absolutely no filter and doesn’t gaf who hears him

• pretty good cook but toji just can’t be assed to do it most of the time. hates the process, loves the result, hates the cleanup. once they finish eating, he’ll ask you to start on the dishes and says that he’ll ’come help you after he puts the leftovers away.’ he makes a purposeful racket as he rearranges the fridge to make room for the tupperware. after a while you realize it’s gotten really quiet, so you turn around and he’s just. not there anymore LMAO

• not too physically affectionate… outside of hugs. every day he comes home he anticipates a hug from you at the door because he’s gotten sosososo used to it. if you don’t, expect him to silently brood and dial up the sass until you make up for it. whenever he can, he pulls you into bear hugs and side hugs, squishing you close to him as if he’s trying to crawl beneath your skin

• taking these next 2 bullets from my works TEEEHEEEE! sometimes he’s still waiting for the catch, for the other shoe to drop. but toji thinks it a disservice to you to think of your care as anything But genuine. you’re sooo sweet, always jumping to brush his hair, straighten his clothes, cuddle up to him… even though he calls you a nuisance (affectionate), he sinks into it all cos he’s secretly a giant softie

• toji never fails to indulge your whims. even if that’s going wine-tasting (he thinks it’s bougie and makes sure to say that 918325 times), browsing antique shops, whatever the hell you drag him along to do— stuff he normally wouldn’t think to do or even care to do in his free time. but he goes along with it juuust for you

• obviously he’s extremely protective of you. if someone looks at you weird or one of your coworkers gives you a hard time, best believe he’s stepping in and asking what the fuck their problem is. anyone who bothers you always leaves you alone the second he opens his mouth or squares up in front of them, not so subtly safeguarding you behind his back the entire time. toji also has weapons stashed around their house jic something ever happens

• this also extends to any injuries you get, big or small. you get a paper cut or accidentally sliced your finger open with a knife? he’s clicking his tongue and wrapping a bandaid around it even though it’s a tiiiny cut, gruffly telling you to be more careful. if you ever get really badly injured, toji shepherds you into bed to sleep it off with an ice pack, or into the bathroom so he can patch you up, muttering about how you’re ‘helpless’ he fucking hates that he couldn’t prevent you from getting hurt in the first place

• if you ever have kids with him ooouuu lawd toji’s definitely weaponizing them in small arguments with you. if he disagrees with you he’s instantly like “hold on lemme prove you wrong by asking the kids ‘bout this.” half the time they don’t even agree with him but when they DO, he gloats

choso kamo:

• choso absolutely loves talking to you from the other room when you two split up to tackle chores around the house. he’ll strike up random conversations, always raising his voice to make sure you hear him. it makes things more fun, more stimulating. that and he just likes listening to you

• does the little things for you that you wouldn’t expect anyone to do or even pay attention to. when a pair of your shoes gets dirty, he sits down and cleans them for you. whenever you two run out of soap he refills the bottles asap. if he sees something that he thinks you’d like or something that reminds him of you, he instantly buys it for you. for fem!reader, he teaches himself how to fix the wire of your bras

• takes pride in being able to cook meals for you. it’s something he picked up for yuuji because Gaawwwddddd he worries about his brother and wants to make sure he’s taken care of, and that extends to you too. choso has a couple of cookbooks on the counter and he likes teaching himself how to make new dishes. its even better when you join in and they make their meal together as a team

• he’s always the first to notice when there’s a child wandering around alone in a store— or anywhere in public, really. choso’ll worry his lip and keep an eye on them, then alerts you after a few minutes if an adult doesn’t show up. you follow him and watch as he squats in front of them, smiling and asking what their name is and whatnot, and you join in if he offers to help the kid find their parents if they’re lost. JUST THE SWEETEST ☹️😞

• incredibly in tune with your emotions and never fails to pick up on your sadness/anxiety/anger/etc.. just like geto, it hurts him when you’re hurting and it weighs on him. choso will do absolutely anything and everything to cheer you up

shoko ieiri:

• she rarely smokes around you. sure she could just use RCT on your lungs if you’re exposed to it just like she does to herself, but she’d rather keep you away from cigarettes entirely

• parallel play 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ if you’re reading or on your phone, she’s lying next to you doing her own thing too. she’ll occasionally speak up to check up on you if you’re too quiet, and if you’re still chilling, shoko relaxes again. just being in your presence is enough for her cos you’re her girlllll

• shoko really appreciates when you cook because you’re damn good at it but she’ll sometimes insist that they order fast food. you mistake it for her not liking your cooking, but that’s not the case— she just doesn’t want you to work your ass off for them every night. also she just really just wants some fucking fries sometimes 😭

• if either of you get catcalled while you’re both out, she either ignores the man and tells you to do the same, rounds on them, or channels new yorkers and fucking barks at themmmmrhwjrsjw. some men don’t take no for an answer so she knows you just gotta scare the dogshit out of them. plus it makes you laugh so it’s a win win

• likes talking on the phone with you a lot but also really values when they sit on the phone and just… don’t talk. sometimes you’ll fall asleep on the line and the soft sounds of your breathing is soothing to shoko. everyone at jujutsu high gets used to seeing her with one headphone in while she works and no one takes offense to it because they know she’s simply listening to you. besides it never breaks her concentration

• to shoko, the funniest thing in the world is garbage music— purposely shitty or not. she has sooo many artists memorized that make god awful music and she’ll silently sneak them into the queue if they’re listening to music at home. she always snickers when your expression goes from casual to horrified as you listen to the atrocious vocals and even worse instrumentals

• overly alert when it comes to you. she’s incredibly observant, so if you try to hide the fact that you’re sick or injured, she’s on your ASSSS immediately. you can’t get away with shit 😭. she’ll take care of you until she has to leave for work, checks up on you multiple times throughout the day via texts/calls, then comes home and dedicates her time to tending to you. she’s a natural caretaker at heart

• which is also why it throws her off when the positions are reversed. sometimes she’s sick and grumbles a little when you force her to stay in bed and she secretly appreciates it, and sometimes she retreats into herself, isolating herself because she’s terrified of losing you just like she’s lost many others, and shoko spirals a bit before you pull her back out of it. you’ll never leave her, not even if death tries to take you, and she quietly sinks into your reassurances and the comfort you give her

yuki tsukumo:

• yuki rarely calls you by your name— she enjoys using pet names for you, like lover, bunny, babes, princess, cutie, pretty girl… she delights in your smiles and faint blushes when she refers to you with one of those

• spontaneous as HELLLLL so you know you’re always gonna have a fun time with her. she takes you on dates in and out of the city, and her date ideas are always extremely creative ^_^ the two of you do lots of things and she introduces you to things that you never thought you’d like

• since she’s always traveling, yuki tries to make you tag along when she can— and you’re almost always down. oftentimes they’ll sleep in a hotel but she prefers being out in nature, so sometimes they’ll randomly camp out somewhere. yuki always snuggles up to you after making them dinner and the two of you chat for hours while looking up at the stars

• juuust like choso, yuki is very much a gift giver— whenever she comes home after a few days or weeks, it’s like santa’s come to town because she buys every single thing that reminds her of you and dumps them all onto you. from time to time you stare at certain gifts of hers, puzzled, until yuki explains the correlation— maybe the shape of your eyes is similar to the ones on a figurine she bought you, or she saw something in your favorite color and thought of you

• even if she’s gone for a day, yuki makes a point to facetime you because this woman cannottttt go a few hours without talking to you— and seeing you even it’s through a fuzzy screen. she sits there and grins as you do your skincare routine or ramble about your day. she soaks up everything that you have to offer

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class1akids · 7 months ago

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BNHA 426 - First thoughts

I have mixed feelings:

My No 1 wish was Toya being able to talk, so I'm glad we got that. Though super-sad about the "slowly dying" thing. But he's not dead yet - so I'll consider that "open ending" for now.

Way too much focus again on Enji feeling bad - I'm glad Toya called him out for doing everything only when it's too late / doesn't matter anymore

I’m also glad that Touya reached his goal - he destroyed Endeavor, the hero fully. His body, his reputation, his legacy. Everything Touya was created for, he burnt to ash. (But at what price 😭)

it's also super-hollow to say he's sheltering the family from the fallout, after they've just talked about how Fuyumi lost her job (and got a new one through the connections she herself built). How is he going to do that?

What a contrast between Bakugou and Deku getting thanks from All Might and being called greatest heroes - while not a single person in this family thanks Shoto for the extraordinary efforts he made for them (not only in this war, but since his first visit to Rei) -> they never deserved my boy tbh...

The Shoto - Toya scene was easily the highlight of the chapter for me. I really wanted this for both of them. Everyone in the family is talking about how they will talk, but Shoto is the one actually asking a question to Toya; he still wants to know his brother after everything.

And I love how that's the final breakthrough for Toya -words supported by actions - to start crying and to say sorry. I think his inability to cry was one of the big reasons he could never move on, so I hope in whatever time he has left, he can get the emotional closure he needs. And I'm glad Shoto got at least one person in the family acknowledge his efforts, even if with just a "sorry".

It makes me super-sad though because you can see that Toya and Shoto's relationship had so much potential!!! They would have been the best of brothers.

Natsuo cutting off Endeavor is fine for me. I didn't expect a big group hug - all the kids are grown up with their own lives - like Toya said "why not sooner". Them becoming a big happy family was never on the cards. Though I'm more disappointed Natsuo had nothing to say to Toya. He's a lot like his father.

Is Rei sticking with Endeavor? I hope she's just escorting him to the agency car and not like moving back to the house with him.

I'm super disappointed that Shoto got no hug from his mom or even a line of direct dialogue. In 426 chapters, they never spoke directly!!!!! - Shoto is the only kid in the family Rei never had a dialogue with as a grown up. Hori really fumbled her too.

So Shoto - just like Izuku to Bakugou - never gets to respond properly to Endeavor's apology. Still, I interpret his line to Enji and Rei that even if the family doesn't get a dream ending, he's going to be ok because he has friends who support him and he's strong enough to shape his own identity. I'm glad we didn't get like a "it's water under the bridge" or an even worse "I'll restore the family's honor" kind of plot for Shoto. He did everything he could, he did the heavy lifting for every single relationship - he's more than earned his freedom (though I doubt that the public will easily forget that he's "Endeavor's son and Dabi's brother").

It's really bittersweet, but Shoto is still better off compared to where he started - he built some kind of relationship (however distant) with every person in his family and I guess he'll stay in touch without feeling like he has to carry all of them.

And more importantly has a safety net of friends, and he got out from under his father's thumb, away from the toxicity of his birth, forged a positive self-image, has clear goals, etc. He's an amazingly strong person, with a great mental fortitude and I hope in the 4 remaining chapters we'll see him smile at least once. He deserves it.

I'm glad Kiddo and Onima are alive. I would have hated it if they died from the copied Phosphor. I guess Burnin' is running the agency now? Though probably it gets closed down after Endeavor's retirement.

Hawks being the new prez of the HPSC was expected. Let's see what he can do.

Nagant "I want to stay in prison" is super-weird, but whatever. Hers always felt like a half-baked plot.

Gentle/La Brava is the first canon ship confirmed. I don't like them, but good for them I guess.

So next up: Spinner - Deku talk?

I need some processing time and some translations and the missing pages, but it's not the best or the worst. It delivered the thing I wanted most, though less talking from Enji and more talking from Touya and Shouto would have been better.

#bnha manga leaks #bnha manga spoilers #bnha 426

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registeredboykisser · 17 days ago

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@poltergeist-punk not edited I'm trying to freewrite and get my creative ass going again. but yippee we overcame writers block!!

(Spoilers for s1ep3 of arcane but tbh if you're on this blog, you've probably already seen it)

The Base Violence Necessary For Change — Silco's POV

He watched Vander writhe on the ground, pained and bloody and bruised.

The absolute monster of a man he made loomed over, disgustingly vile with purple practically glowing throughout his veins. This was all in the name of vengeance, though he couldn't help but feel pricks at his heart when he heard Vi's sobs. He looked over slightly, taking in the pink mess of hair trapped under a piece of rubble. Tears ran down her cheeks as she looked at the bodies of her friends—her siblings. Then her gray eyes met his, and he averted her gaze.

The smoke surrounding them made it incredibly difficult to breathe, akin to the way the fissures clogged your throat. Though, this environment was much warmer, with the sweat trailing down his temple to the scarring of his face, nearing the point of stinging. The blade in his hand began to slip, and he adjusted his grasp.

He heard the familiar—all too familiar—sound of Vander's growl at the enemy, and panic began to settle again. The way he'd growled when forcing him down into those murky waters—scolded him when he desperately tried to escape, scowled at the way the knife plunged deep into his forearm— felt so similar to this moment. It defeated the purpose of why he was here.

He needed to regain control, set the record straight,

Become a monster himself.

He plunged the knife into Vander's back, the wet squelch of muscle and blood filling his ears. It wouldn't be the first time it did, but this time it felt raw, not drowned out by the water filling his ears, his lungs, his eye. He pushed the bulky man in front of him off of the knife, watching the red consume the typical off-white of his shirt. He stepped back, albeit not dexterously assessing the damage. Memories threatened to flood back, but he did his best to refuse acknowledgement.

Until Vander turned around and wrapped his large hands around his neck, tightening their grip and restricting his air flow. He met his gaze, anger began to dilute with fear—the same fear he felt that night. Vander's hands around his neck, the murky river waters eating away at the flesh and nerves of his eye, desperately gasping for air as his lungs continued to fill with more and more fluid—it was terrifying, and it made him feel so weak.

Vander's gaze was different, he seemed to still hold a fight he'd lost long ago—when he'd taken Powder and Vi under his wing, when he'd made deals with enforcers to keep the Lanes safe, when he feared his power after trying to kill the person he cared for.

And despite everything, he still felt like the same, weak young adult being drowned under that bridge.

Without anymore thought, he took another strike at the man above him. The knife landed in his abdomen this time, drawing much more blood than before without removing it. It only made his windpipe tighter, made him part his lips and gasp for hair. He bared his teeth—and yet he still looked more like a terrified stray than a feared figure. He watched as Vander got closer, willingly forcing the knife deeper and resting his forehead on his. Still so filled with anger, not holding the softness he once hated. But the gesture portrayed a different message. And then that pressure moved to his shoulder, and soon his whole body.

The large man pressed against him, making him readjust himself to handle the weight. The hand on his throat dropped to his side, and he quickly took a breath. He silently thanked Janna for the air, even if it was in the form of smoke.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine their most domestic moments. Vander's warm body surrounding his, Felicia chuckling while conversing with Connol, when Silco provided a breakthrough on their mission. He appreciated it and would've stayed there for longer, to forget the way Vander had tried to take his life momentarily. He wanted to indulge in the warmth against him, as his breathing slowed and his mind stopped racing.

The man always had a way of grounding him and his wild thoughts.

But the warmth soon started to run cold, the pulse against his chest no longer present, the breath on his neck just memories of it. And it soon became useless to continue.

His mind wandered, wondering if things would've been different if Vander had continued to fight instead of flea, if he had chosen to leave the children orphaned. But this was the universe they were in now, and he got to spend their final moments seeing that life in Vander come back.

He exhaled and tipped his head, unhanding the knife and reaching his hand to Vander's chest.

"I knew you still had it in you."

He breathed, but he couldn't tell if he was talking to Vander's now limp body or himself.

He pushed Vander off the ledge of the bridge and watched him descend into the flames.

#writing #we beat writers block #woohoo #zaundads #silco #vander #the base violence necessary for change #vanco

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olderthannetfic · 1 month ago

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ok drama from my side of the pond.

Story: This one poc content creator got really popular in recent years. She is objectively from a really privileged background. Insanely privileged by some standards tbh. The stupid part is that nobody actually cares, she seems to make it a bigger issue herself than literally anyone ever. When she first became big she talked about her childhood and it was kinda obvious that she was really out of touch with some major things when it came to her upbringing and her privilege.

She has made posts defending other poc but always with a bit of that "I'm so humble" attitude, which some people had issues with. Not humble in the "I was raised in a privileged household" because she hates acknowledging it, but humble in the "I'm from a more privileged poc status". Literally, paraphrasing she basically said that in more words. Some people have joked that she has a bit of a savior complex.

She is friends with some random white content creator who's more popular and well known than her, but that content creator has also been at it for a decade more + has done a lot of other stuff outside internet content creation so no shit.

Recently some petty drama happened between the white content creator and some random people. You know the typical "how dare a woman be popular" crowd, and she responded very bluntly to the bullshit.

Well what would you think a friend would say in that case? Let's play a game: A) Would a friend support her friend bts. B) Publicly defend her friend. C) Would she be quiet and let her friend do her thing. D) Would she backhandedly make a defence post and then comment "I can't believe I gotta stand up for a privileged white person..." and some stuff about white women always expecting poc do their dirty work. If you guessed D: 🥇

Literally nobody has any idea what the point was. White content creator basically had it handled, never asked for support and was doing her thing, sure there was some pushback and criticism for being so blunt. But it was water under the bridge and most people were on her side. There was no need for the poc content creator to even say a single word.

Some people have been commenting that the poc creator has been more and more hostile towards her white friend for some time now, which seemed have ramped up when the poc creator was "confronted" by the fact that she has more privilege than many other poc especially of her own race/ethnicity, and that her talking on certain things feels dishonest; basically her background and upbringing and how she some times frames herself as having been less privileged than she was. Again, nobody initially cared about her silver spoon, but she started making it a bigger issue and tried to talk about things she as a person with privileged background really can't comment on.

So now people, especially poc fans of either or both have been talking about how she really needs to dial it down because she's not garnering any sympathy by trying to pretend that she's worse off than she actually is, by trying to frame the white content creator as using the poc creators voice as a poc to do her dirty work. Again, nobody even demanded nor cared about her and nobody expected her to join in. It was actually considered really fucking weird when it happened, especially in the way it did. One thing that has been reoccurring is that some people have mentioned that she might try to make herself more "oppressed" than she is, but since she has wealth and everyone knows about it, she needs to put all her cards on "I'm poc, and my white friend is actually using me."

It's been fucking wild because she's been attacking anyone who dares question her reason, and she keeps using the "You just hate me bc I'm poc" even when it's poc people questioning/calling her out, especially with all the stuff from the past years and her behavior.

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daylighteclipsed · 4 months ago

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What's it about cloti that you like? I'm curious, bc we otherwise tend to ship the same things. I love both cloud and tifa, and they have some cute scenes, but I don't feel it with them. Idk if it's because of the truly awful shippers, or something else. For me it feels like sokai in kh 1, I see why ppl ship them and that the narrative is pushing for them to be together, but i don't really care about that aspect of their relationship. Your answer doesn't have to be elaborate or anything, it's genuinely only curiosity on my part. Other than that, how do you like rebirth so far? I know some ppl dropped it pretty fast, bc they didn't like the crazy amount of mini games. Which I get, bc some of them were a hassle, but all in all i still had fun.

Short answer: I really like their individual characters and their complicated friendship and past that Rebirth starts delving more into, and that’s made me warm up very quickly to the romance between them.

Long answer: Cloud and Tifa’s dynamic is so interesting to me in Rebirth. I feel like the game does a good job of pulling back the curtain on a relationship that up to this point has been summed up as “childhood friends” to reveal how much more complicated it is than that. Imo, these are two people who have always yearned to know each other but never really have. They were friendly when they were very young, it seems, like under the age of 7. Then, Cloud started pulling away, and Tifa has never understood why. And they haven’t been able to really reconnect since then, made all the more difficult by Sephiroth and Shinra.

FF7 pushes romantic angles with both Tifa and Aerith, which I don’t really love tbh. I do wish it was a little more toned down and optional. But I really like the sense of yearning and desire to connect that threads Cloud and Tifa’s entire relationship — and the consistent symbolism of reaching for each other, trying to bridge that physical and emotional gap between them (usually when one is about to literally or figuratively fall), that goes with it. I like watching them bond and get to know each other now, so many years later, as best as they can (considering Cloud’s memories and sense of self are all screwed up), while navigating the unique trauma of being two of the only survivors of the massacre of their village. I like their mutual support, how they take turns supporting/grounding/saving each other.

I like that memories play such a big role, that they both have precious memories of each other that are key to who they are and which no one else knows. Fucking love when Tifa falls into the Lifestream and she realizes Cloud tried to save her from crossing the metaphorical bridge of death/falling when they were kids, and you see how much the past seems to parallel the present with their roles reversed this time. I want to see the whole memory so much. I don’t know if we ever will, but man. I really feel like even if Cloud couldn’t stop Tifa from falling, he must’ve saved her from drowning. There’s a river below that bridge, right? She hit her head and presumably passed out — someone had to keep her head above water, and he was the only one there because he refused to abandon her… I think, metaphorically, that’s pretty much what’s gonna happen in the game. I don’t think Tifa is gonna be able to catch Cloud from falling, but I think she’s gonna hold his head above water when they hit the bottom.

Sorry, I’ve been thinking about this part so much shsbdbsbs I just feel like it’s so interesting and crucial to the story. I think it really helps Tifa understand what’s going on with Cloud and Sephiroth on a level the others don’t. She’s much more conscious of Cloud’s behavior and notices the distinctions between Cloud and Sephiroth. She’s usually the first to notice when something’s not right and intervene.

I like that Tifa is established as the truth to Sephiroth’s lies and the one who can kinda “wake” Cloud up because, unlike everyone else, Tifa was there when Sephiroth (and Zack and Cloud) came to town and Tifa has seen what Cloud was like before the Jenova cells/false persona (even if she’s never been able to fully understand him). She’s the only one stopping Cloud from losing complete touch with reality, which is why Sephiroth is trying to undermine her credibility and eliminate her.

Like it’s really obvious, to me, that if Cloud and Tifa could properly reconnect by finally understanding the past and each other, Sephiroth’s manipulation wouldn’t work. Like, you know in the Loveless play how the bad guy’s weakness is true love. And then the hero (Cloud) and whoever is playing the princess (I had Tifa) try to declare their love, and it doesn’t work. The bad guy just laughs and says their love is an illusion or whatever? That’s what’s going on in the game, I think. I do think they love each other, but they don’t understand each other yet, Cloud isn’t even sure who he is, his identity is scrambled eggs, so it’s not a complete or true love. They have to bridge that gap, discover the truth and really meet. You know what I mean?

I still haven’t talked about the actual romantic stuff fbdbdbsbe I’m sorry, romance is usually always secondary to me. Um. I like that Cloud initiates a lot of those intimate moments with Tifa. Other people usually invade his space and make him uncomfortable. But Tifa’s patient with him and doesn’t pressure him. He reaches out to hold her hand and hug her and stuff. He opens up to her about his doubts and fears. It’s sweet how bashful they are, how realistically awkward they are sometimes. Yeah, idk, I just think they’re neat. I want them to understand each other, finally like really know each other, and I like when they hold hands.

As for how I’m enjoying Rebirth as a game (as someone who has never played the og FF7): I’m really loving it. I think it’s so much more fun and interesting than Remake. Love the open world, the different regions, the exploration, side quests, party bonding and banter, chocobos, whatever tf is going on with those protorelics and the Queen’s Blood creator, the battle challenges, Chadley (I know he was in Remake, but I grew more attached to him in this game), the return of other old NPCs, the new ones, the fun silly stuff like the segways in Costa del Sol. Rebirth fleshes the whole world and characters out, and I’m never bored. I have very little complaints. If it sticks the landing, it might be one of my favorite video games. Rip to the mini game haters, but I’m different. (Except the piano. The piano can go fuck itself.)

#but so many of the mini games are optional so I’m not sure why ppl would quit over them #like just don’t do them. i just avoid the piano. lmao #it’s funny how cloud and tifa remind you of sora and kairi cause at this point they remind me more of riku and sora #but 🤷‍♀️ everyone’s got different opinions #this is very quick and rambly sorry. i am trying to finish the game before i share thoughts

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anitalenia · 11 months ago

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₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 .𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. ✧･ﾟ: * 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓔𝓾𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓼, 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓻. 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭. 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮, 𝓲'𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 . ⋆˙⟡♡✧ ℕ𝔸ℕ𝔸𝕄𝕀 𝕂𝔼ℕ𝕋𝕆 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑜𝑑. 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤𝘩𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 . . . ₊˚⊹.* ♡ *.⊹˚₊ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 ✧‧₊˚

၄.၃ ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ₊˚✧ 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕣! nαnαmí kєntσ x 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕪! rєαdєr

၄.၃ ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚ 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 ₊˚✧ the reader will have very long hair and dark navy blue eyes for the sake of the story. I tried to be as vague as possible in every other aspect. this will also be in multiple parts, like a mini series. I’m not sure how many parts there will be 😔

၄.၃ ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚ 𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓪 𝓼𝓪𝔂𝓼 ₊˚✧ I took a different approach when writing this than I usually do, or in other words a different writing style than usual. Tbh, I know it’s not my best writing but it’s not the worst either. So please tell me if the writings good, I’ll definitely appreciate it !! Also, Sugar Water is one of my favorite songs by Cibo Matto, I definitely recommend it 😫✨. Thank you, and enjoy the story ✨ nanami header and gray sparkle divider made by me 💖

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑵𝑬 𐙚 ‧₊˚ . 𝜗𝜚𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝜗𝜚𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝜗𝜚𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

⋆⭒˚. ࣪˖ ִֶָཐིཋྀ 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 the sun was quickly setting — either that, or the trees were so thick it made the sky look black.

Nanami couldn’t be sure; he was too focused on the pain in his leg and the pounding in his head that made it hard for him to think clearly, his vision blurring with every pulse.

Was it day? Had it been only hours since he escaped with barely his life? How long had he been wandering through these dark woods with nothing but his own wits about him?

Nanami had no clue.

Long enough for twigs to stick in his hair that’s for certain, long enough for mud to cling to the sweat on his skin and stain the fabric of his clothes. Long enough for his mind to blur the reality of hours and minutes that time itself seemed to stretch and bend forever.

He was sure he was leaving a rather noticeable blood trail behind him for those beasts to follow him and yet it seems they hadn’t — they must be too busy sucking out the marrow of his companions to bother with him.

Nanami couldn’t argue with that reasoning, however. With an injury like his, bleeding out like he was, he was bound to wither away eventually; he was already a walking corpse.

A morbid thought, but his macabre reality.

The forest floor was brown and black slush, muddy from the light rain that squished and sloshed under his boots. His glasses were dotted with water and his leg shot pain straight up his spine with every dreaded step forward yet Nanami wouldn’t give up — he couldn’t.

Not when his boots sunk into the mud and he had to pull his legs out of the earth to move, not when he smeared water on his glasses when he’d push them up the bridge of his nose, not when every step felt like a millennia of war battling in his calf… he smelt of his own blood and misery yet he conquered on, further into the dark wood with splinters in his palms and blisters on his toes.

A part of him was drawn forward anyway, drawn towards the mystery of the shadows and the fortune that may just await him if he continued on just a little farther. A symptom to his love for adventure; he was always weak to the allure of intrigue.

It was also hope.

Nanami couldn’t die here, not like this, not after all of his adventures and misfortunes and treasures. He was a traveler after all, a born adventurer; he’s faced many great monsters and beasts and traversed the most dangerous of terrain — fierce lions with claws of blade and savage wolfs with teeth of daggers, fiery lava pits and cataclysmic grand canyons.

He’s been dealt with far worse things than a clawed leg — he’s been poisoned and stabbed and bit and bludgeoned and nearly flattened by an avalanche yet this seems to be the one injury to ruin him despite them all.

A damn cut.

Maybe his bad luck had finally caught up to him.

Maybe it was purely by chance and blind, ignorant luck that he survived those encounters at all, maybe it had been luck that saved his life tonight.

He didn’t believe in luck but maybe that was just it.

Maybe he’d die from blood loss first before the infection set in; he hoped he’d just collapse into the forest floor and let the mud swallow him as his body weakened and his blood pooled around him to soak into the dirt.

At least he wouldn’t feel it when he rotted into the soil and roots buried themselves in his bones, when flowers would eventually sprout from his decay and grow gardens.

There was always beauty to be found in ugly things he guessed, a rule just as simple as beauty could be recycled from the horror of something else.

Something beautiful to come from something dead, something finally meaningful to come from his meaningless purpose.

No.

Nanami swallowed down that dreaded feeling, motivation bursting at his seams and ripping at his shirt, pooling at his feet and pounding in his ears as he stepped onward with a clenched jaw and sore muscles.

He was determined to live, determined to find something or someone or… he was bound to find safety eventually, some kind of sanctuary, even if it took him all night (if he even lived that long).

He walked a little longer until he stumbled upon a thick berry bush that seemed to block his way further; it was dark blue berries he certainly didn’t recognize and definitely didn’t trust to eat no matter how badly he needed the energy.

Nanami took that as a sign, stopping against a tree trunk to rest his throbbing leg for just one minute — a minute he couldn’t really spare. He leaned down and put a hand on his one good knee and huffed and sighed, panting weakly and tiredly; he really wanted nothing more than to be in his big comfy bed back in Hawksborough, surrounded by the comfort of his own home and safety of his room.

A few quiet moments passed with him like this. Him leaned against the tree, tired and haunted with nothing but the sounds of nature and the weariness of his own fragmented breath surrounding him.

Then, then he heard something rather remarkable, something that had his breath stop and his back straighten.

It was a hum, a beautiful, deep hum that seemed to resonate in the air around him and shake the leaves of the trees and the petals of flowers on broken stems.

It started out faint, like the strings of a harp between soft fingers. Then it crescendoed into something greater, deeper, like if someone were to play the keys of an organ and each heavy note echoed on the walls of an empty cathedral; hauntingly beautiful.

It certainly did, it echoed in his chest so hard he could feel his ribs shake.

It was a melodically smooth sound, coming from somewhere close to him but yet everywhere around him; it was hypnotic and bone chilling and mesmerizing all in one and Nanami felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of it as the hum seemed to grow louder the more curious he became.

He looked around the darkness for anything to hint at where the sound was coming from, but saw nothing except black air and the twisted limbs of trees.

Nanami gulped down the pain in his body with a sore throat, then winced as he stood up straight.

His leg throbbed and his head was starting to ache but with one final push he managed to scramble his way through the berry bush where the hum seemed to drown in his ears and coo at his brain; something told him he was going the right way.

He grind his teeth at the thorns pushing and breaking into his skin, ripping at his shirt and tearing at his seams.

When Nanami was through, a dirty mess of ragged clothing and mud, he stumbled into the grass with a grunt, falling to his knees and landing on his bruised palms.

“Fuck…” He muttered painfully, never one to cuss but too damn frustrated not to; he’d forgive himself for it.

Nanami took a moment to relish in the agony of his battered leg; he didn’t even realize the humming had stopped until he picked his head up to see where he was.

And by the gods Nanami was in utter awe of what he saw.

There was a bright blue pond a little ways ahead of him, surrounded by flourishing plants and flowers and vines that all seemed to glow vibrant colors of blue and gold. The water itself was sparkling and bright, reflecting cerulean pools in the flora around it.

Iridescent blue weeping willow trees hung around the water and seemed to whisper longingly to the wind that caressed their leaves. The grass was long and wispy surrounding the blue bosque that seemed to sway and dance all on their own accord, to their own little melody.

The air itself was sweet and sprinkled with little golden fireflies that buzzed happily around him; it was like a portal to a whole new thriving world.

Although, it was eerily seductive; Nanami wanted to stay in the grandeur blue arms of this utopia forever, but something in the way his hair stood up on his arms and his heart pounded in his ears told him he wasn’t completely safe to do so.

Nanami pushed that thought aside, not necessarily in his right mind to pay attention to what his body was subconsciously telling him.

He was too wide eyed and breathless, for even the wind seemed so fresh and magical every pore in his body felt alive and tingly — he even felt the pain in his leg stop, some sort of euphoria flood through his nerves. Unless he just became so accustomed to the pain he couldn’t feel it anymore.

It was so beautiful and unlike anything he’d ever seen; how he wished he could take a picture and write it down in his journal so he could remember this place forever… if only those beasts hadn’t ripped his satchel off him.

Nanami blinked, once, twice, then pushed himself off the ground with all the strength he could muster. He was dirty and torn and completely out of place in such an ethereal land; he felt almost guilty for tainting its grass with his muddy shoes.

Still, he stumbled further into the mysterious place as the soft sound of wind chimes twinkled somewhere around him, not loud and obnoxious but soft and gentle, a lullaby almost that made him feel sleepy, like the notes themselves were wrapping their velvety arms around him and pulling him in.

He didn’t resist it, looking around in awe at the paradise in front of him as he took a couple steps forward. He caught the movement of two butterflies playing together in the air, their dainty wings glimmering with glowing white sparkles and a vivid sky blue — he even swore with every flap of their wings it left a trail of delicate golden dust behind them.

He watched with wonderment as they faded somewhere into the trees, then turned his head to look back at the pond; the real treasure.

He felt his mouth salivate, all too aware of the dryness in his sore throat now as the water swayed and tempted him into its crystal blue depths. He knew he should’ve been wiser about this, hesitate for just a moment and linger on the possibility of entrapment but his thirst wouldn’t allow it; a pathetic, wandering fly in a deadly flytrap.

Nanami took two strong steps — all the strength he had left — towards the ponds edge for some much needed refreshment, falling down to his knees at the waters edge. The buzzing of nature seemed to drown out behind him in a mesh of forgotten sound as he scooped up a handful of water and eagerly drank it out of his palm.

He didn’t bother looking at his reflection; he knew he was an utter mess and always hated to see himself in disarray. He must’ve looked vaguely threatening to any outsider who saw him — not that anyone did (as far as he knew).

The water rippled as he drank from it, the liquid cool and translucent blue in his dirty palm he had haphazardly wiped on his trousers.

It passed over his dry gums and throat in a refreshingly cold blast with every gulp; it tasted so good and clear he could even feel the chill of it going down his throat.

With three more frantic gulps Nanami had had enough; his stomach was full and his thirst was quenched as he leaned back on his palms and looked up towards the sky in a spared moment of relaxation.

It was a dark navy blue sky twinkling with yellow and gold diamonds, no moon in sight but he didn’t care as he got lost in the coolness of the air on his narrow cheeks and the way it wrapped around his aching body, warping between the tears of his shirt and washing over his warm skin.

It was the opposite of how he used to sit on a cliffs edge and soak in the warmness of a golden sunset after a hard journey. He didn’t want to feel the heat of a days end on his glowing skin so much as he wanted to bask in the cold stillness of a breezy evening.

He hadn’t known how he got here and he didn’t bother trying to figure out how; as an adventurer such as himself it was always about the journey rather than the destination itself anyway, but not in this case.

In this case he couldn’t be happier that the troublesome voyage had ended and he had finally reached where he needed to be — maybe needed was a strong word but he’d rather be here than out there. It was certainly weird to think that way, and it went it against his very passions but… he’s been through too much in this night alone than he’s ever really suffered through in the totality of his life.

Nanami felt disappointed in himself for thinking so, guilty even, like he was betraying this metaphorical odyssey he was destined to travel on. Still, for the first time in his career Nanami was relived to be off his feet.

He sighed wistfully, fingers sinking into the soil as cool air flooded his lungs. He closed his eyes as he relished in the feeling.

Nanami didn’t even feel it when his elbows buckled under him and he fell back on the grass, only seeing a glittering blue sky and yellow diamonds behind black, closed eyes.

The water went still once more and the blue went black.

You studied the contours of his face delicately, your hands intertwined in your lap and your legs tucked under you as you did.

The room was small and cozy, lit by nothing but a soft blue flame in the corner that crackled and popped every few moments, tendrils of butterfly bush hanging from the ceiling and walls. The room smelt of honey and sweet rain, dark and joyfully dreary but you saw his face just fine.

He was quite handsome, you couldn’t deny that.

His blonde hair all in disarray, his narrow cheeks and sharp nose, his thin pink lips and angled eyes.

He was handsome.

You narrowed your eyes at him curiously, raising a delicate hand and gently brushing your cold fingertips over his cheekbone.

His skin was smooth and warm, cheeks flushed a light pink. It was always a small envy of yours — the warmth of humans. You were so cold all the time, your skin like crystals and frigid like snow.

Your fingertips fluttered over his blonde eyelashes, unable to keep your hands off him.

You wondered what color his eyes were. Green? Brown? Blue maybe?

You were eager for him to wake, your boredom having become tiresome and your patience having become thin. Still, you didn’t want to disturb his sleep just yet. The poor man had been through so much already; his leg was still healing, wrapped in bandages and honey salve and you certainly didn’t want to add any extra stress that could damage him further.

Really, you loved to stare at him with no complications, enjoyed the thrill of blatantly admiring his beauty before he could wake up and you’d inevitably make him uncomfortable, before he’d say it was improper to do so.

You were selfish in that regard, in many regards.

This man, you hadn’t learned his name nor his origin, but you knew he had been in the dark woods at a time he should not have been.

He was tall and brave, strong and perseverant, that much you knew and that much was certain. It was why you liked him so much, it was why you spared him.

But who was he?

He was no real threat to you and that was all that mattered.

You smiled softly, bemused and smitten, when his nose crinkled in his sleep. You gently dusted away a stray blonde hair that had fallen out of place.

You seemed to have bothered him then, because not a moment later did his head turn slightly and his lips part to exhale — he was waking up.

Finally.

You settled your hands back in your lap before he could notice, staring down at him with a sweet, welcoming smile in hopes to comfort him as his eyes fluttered open to look at you.

You gazed back into them delightedly.

Mm, they were brown.

Nanami had woken up with an ache in his skull and a sting behind his eyes, lost in a daze of twisted black thickets and enticing blue ponds; the sensation of featherlight fingers tracing his cheek tickled his brain and made his skin itch.

The first thing he smelt when he came to was blueberry pie and sugar, the sweetness of it making his mouth water but his stomach twist.

He wanted to eat something, badly, but he also wanted to throw up.

The air was warm around him, comfortable and pleasant, his sore back laid on something soft and plushy. He didn’t feel any reason for panic as he found himself melting into the comforter — whatever the hell it was he couldn’t be certain — against his better judgment.

Nanami tried to gather some sort of sensation in his body, tried wiggling his fingers and his toes but all he felt was nothing, numbness. He couldn’t even feel the pain radiating in his leg anymore.

He found that worrisome; maybe it was finally his time, maybe his luck had finally run out. Maybe he was lying face down in the forest floor right now as his mind conjured up the smell of his favorite pie and the feigned comfort of his mattress as a sweet gesture to bid him a final farewell.

Hell, if death was this peaceful he would’ve never been so against it.

Then he felt another whisper of skin across his forehead, soft and untraceable. If it wasn’t for the stark coldness of whatever it was touching him he would’ve missed it.

With the coldness making his skin shiver Nanami quickly found himself grounded back to reality. He wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. Death didn’t exhibit the mundane concepts of hot or cold; temperature had no purpose in a void of nothing.

He was very much alive if the sound of his heart beating in his ears and the chill on his forehead was anything to go by. He even felt the tips of his fingers tingle as feeling came over them again, numbness having lingered in his bones for far too long.

He somehow found the strength to open his eyes.

For a brief moment he saw a blurred vision of black and blue. The shadow of a pale, azure colored light shining from somewhere, flickering in and out. It made a headache settle into the cracks of his skull and spread a torturous ache throughout his head.

He couldn’t stop the groan from leaving his lips as his hand flinched up towards his temple.

“Oh no, it seems you have some head trauma, it’s best not to strain yourself right now.”

It was a voice, soft spoken, barely above a whisper that piqued his interest immediately.

His vision focused on you once the pain faded; the girl next to his bed side with glittering dark eyes and a wickedly charming smile, wearing a baby blue colored dress embroidered with delicate flower designs; vines and flowers all intertwined in a tangled mess of thorns and petals that reminded him so greatly of the dark wood.

A sheer, glittering lily white shawl was loosely hung around your shoulders, hair in wavy tendrils down to your waist that pooled around your thighs. You were certainly pretty and unassuming.

He could tell you were a frail little thing, gossamery and lovely in a dainty sort of way but he also knew better than to underestimate you; appearances always deceived and there was no greater trick than the feigned purity of an impure thing.

Thankfully, he was not one easily fooled.

Nanami looked back up at you after a quick study of your form — your posture and seemingly innocent facade that did nothing to comfort him — so he just stared at you distrustfully, dark brown eyes narrowed cautiously. He noted the feigned sweetness of your lips as they curved into a small smile and the mischievous twinkle in your eyes as you gazed down at him; he felt preyed upon, the same feeling he exhibited in the meadow.

Kento had been through enough near death experiences in his life to recognize a snake when he saw one, for even the devil had come as a beguiled serpent so who was he to know if you were any better? He felt uneasy under your vehement stare, like a mouse in a cobra pit.

It was peculiar and uncanny, you yourself were frightening and unusual, no doubt a cacophony of horrors wrapped in a cute little bow with pretty blue eyes. He knew you could have anyone fooled, but he was too good, too experienced in the matters of trickery to recognize a fellow trick when he saw one.

Nanami was on the cusp of your deception, giving you a heady stare from beneath stern eyes.

He subtly leaned further away from you.

You flickered your gaze between his stare with an amused look, noting the change in his aura surrounding him as he regarded you tentatively.

You were honestly impressed by how quickly he seemed to have caught on to your true nature, not all humans had the innate sense of danger that he did; something in his gut had told him you were a vile, dangerous thing, and his instincts were telling him to run.

Even though it was unfair to categorize you as such, it was only fair to assume, and not necessarily distinguished too far from the truth anyway.

You sympathized with his ornery skepticism, not wanting to scare him any further so you just smiled down at him in the sweetest way you could fathom. You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts and wit. Although, it seemed his mind was already made up.

“How are you feeling?” You asked in a nonthreatening, soft tone, raising a hand and barely touching the flushed skin of his bare chest, only enough for your fingertips to graze across his skin and grab his attention.

You were pleasantly thrilled at the feeling of his warmth under your fingertips, but Nanami just shuddered like a ghost had touched his bare soul with cold, lifeless hands.

His dark eyes quickly flickered down to where your hand had touched him, covering it with his palm like you had just struck him. Your fingertips seemed to have jolted his skin with a sudden frigid coldness that throbbed through his veins and made his heart stutter. He flinched at the shock of it, not seeing the way you had to bite back a smirk at his indignation.

He looked up at you with a sharp inhale, “I’m quite fine,” Nanami cleared his throat and tried to sit up straighter in an attempt to look half as intimidating as you did, “now who are you?”

You smiled at him, already loving the sound of his voice as he spoke to you; smooth, sharp, demanding, washing over your skin like the warm water of a hot spring. He was entirely too serious and you were too smitten. You could hear the underlying hatred he seemed to already have for you, hear the way his heart raced in his chest and see the way his fist tightly clenched the blanket between his long fingers.

You made him nervous and he made you pathetically giddy. You didn’t care about his fear however, for he would soon learn to become accustomed to you given the proper time spent together. All you really needed was just a little patience until then, after all, could you really blame him for being a bit standoffish given his bizarre situation?

You felt amusement pull at your lips as you folded your hands back into your lap, looking down at him with navy blue pools that reminded him so much of the pond he had so eagerly drank from, “Your savior. You’re welcome for that by the way.”

Nanami leered at you, the hair standing up on his arms as you spoke. Your voice was sweet enough but coated with undertones of something more sarcastic, something more sinister.

“Savior? I sincerely doubt that.”

You felt your smile pull harder at his pride; you couldn’t help it, he was like a frightened squirrel shrinking away from you with his tail between his legs, but trying desperately hard to appear like he wasn’t.

You heard the hardness in his voice though, the rigidness in his tone, the overcompensation for fear.

“Well, how do you explain where you are then? I hardly believe you got here on your own.” You teased him, gesturing to the dimly lit room around you and granting him a large, impish grin.

Nanami didn’t bother looking around, keeping his eyes narrowed in on your face and his hand on his stomach; he didn’t trust not having his eyes on you.

“Whatever the case may be… I can assure you I’m fine. I don’t need whatever it is you’re offering, and quite frankly, I don’t want it.”

You sighed lethargically at his stubborn insistence, staring at him for a moment as your shoulders slumped.

“Is that so? Then stand and walk out. I’m not stopping you traveler. You’re free to do as you please.” You teased him once more with a smirk on your face, gesturing towards the exit behind you — a rectangular opening in the wooden wall shielded by strings of diamond hanging off the top rim.

Of course, you knew he couldn’t leave anyway.

Nanami glanced at where you were pointing coldly, intrigued by the glances of blue-green trees — it seemed like — peeking through the swaying beads.

He didn’t move his head, only his eyes, considering.

There was no way you would just let him walk out that door.

He looked back at you, then looked down at his foot which he had almost forgotten about. It was heavily wrapped in big blue-green leaves he didn’t recognize, sealed tight with a sticky, glossy coating. He raised his brow curiously, face stoic.

You followed his gaze with a knowing smile, “Oh, that’s right… you can’t walk.” You looked back up at him, grin having not left your face.

Nanami clenched his jaw at the cheery way you seemed to say it. His biceps strained as he adjusted in the bed to sit against the wall completely, ignoring the ache in his spine and the heaviness sat on his broad shoulders. Flowers tickled the back of his neck and a small fur blanket slid off his hips as he did.

You stared heatedly at the flexing veins in his arms and the tightness of his abs, the smoothness of his human skin and the rigid curves of muscle on his virile body; he was beautiful and magnificent, like a diamond tenderly molted and pressed over the course of eons. Only a god who truly loved him could dedicate such time and care to carve him — every muscle and vein, from the tips of his toes to the strings of his blonde hair he was perfection.

You couldn’t let him leave you, not now, not after you’ve heard the whiskey smoothness of his voice and seen the chocolate of his brown eyes. He was everything you wanted and everything you desired.

Nanami swallowed once he was settled, glaring at you with his fist bundled in the black fur of the blanket you had laid on him.

“I can tend to my own wounds, I never asked for your help. I wish to go back home.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at him, raising a hand and covering your mouth as you did.

“Home? Your home is far away, you need to rest.” You laughed at him like he was silly, attempting to lay a consoling hand on his thigh with blue and white crystal bracelets jangling on your wrist.

Nanami gripped your hand before you could touch him however, keeping it locked in a tight grip between his strong fingers. He ignored the coldness of your skin in his grasp while your heart jumped at the feel of his warm palm wrapped around you.

“I don’t have the patience for your games. Where have you taken me and what do you plan to do with me?”

You huffed at the rudeness in his tone, slowly pulling your hand out of his grasp and laying it back in your lap.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“Could you stop being so hostile? I’m not going to hurt you… besides, if I wanted you dead would I have patched your leg? Would I have cleaned you? Would I have brought you to my home?” You said exasperated, giving him an annoyed look as impatience settled over your blood like a thin sheen of syrup over a plate of berries.

That was a flaw of yours, your impatience.

Nanami looked down at his body when you mentioned it, seeing that he was now wearing a white button up shirt with the buttons left undone, his broad chest exposed to you in a way he didn’t doubt you orchestrated. His lower half however was merely covered in a set of blue striped boxers he heavily recognized as one of his own.

He clenched his jaw at that, feeling exposed and vulnerable in a whole new definition of the word.

“Don’t worry I didn’t bathe you per se. Just washed away the dirt I could find on the already exposed areas.” You leaned closer to him with a playful smile, voice a teasing whisper, “I didn’t peek, promise.”

Nanami cocked his head at you, “No pants?” He deadpanned, ignoring your previous statement.

You flickered your eyes down to the blue boxers he wore, then back up to his face with the same kittenish smile on your lips.

“Oops. I must’ve forgot.” You lied flawlessly if only nonchalantly, leaning back away from him to your original sitting position.

Nanami frowned at that; he almost sneered at you, but managed to remain calm as he stared at you with irritation inflamed in his brown eyes.

You bit your lip to hide a widening smile.

“Well, did you hear what I said? I’m not trying to hurt you. I found you lying in the grass covered in your own blood and dirt… I thought you were dead, I would have felt guilty if I just left you there. So I brought you to my home and I fixed your leg. I did a rather nice job, don’t ya think?” You spared him a story that wasn’t necessarily a lie but not necessarily the whole truth either. It was a simpler version of events you knew he’d have no problem brushing off.

Nanami, of course, didn’t believe you anyway. He believed you had found him, yes, but not how you had claimed to. He believed there was more to the story, details you pointedly overlooked and purposefully forgotten.

He swallowed tensely, his strong body stiff and rigid like he was preparing for something to happen, heart beating in his ears and anticipation buzzing at his finger tips.

He wanted to question you, ask every question and hear every answer but he was too smart to blatantly antagonize someone he didn’t know. He knew you were off, maybe not entirely there, but he didn’t know what you were in the sense of your capabilities. He knew your small frame was misleading, your wide smile deceptive, your pretty little eyes twinkling stars of mischief behind glittering pools of blue.

You weren’t to be trusted and you weren’t to be taken lightly; you were strange and otherworldly beautiful; a kind of deadly combination he’s never had good experiences with in the past. Sirens were enticing just as you but nowhere near as cunning, pirates were fearless just as he but nowhere near as smart.

He refused to be the drunken, belligerent fool falling into your deep, hungry waters.

“Could you tell me your name? That way, we won’t be strangers.”

He eyed you with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, knowing he needed to play this silly game of yours the right way if he ever planned on getting out of here. If things went according to plan you would soon be the pliable object of his carefully curated manipulation, the one with all the questions and none of the answers, the trickster who would soon be the tricked.

He gave you a disinterested, cautious look, raising his chin at you, “Kento. And yours?” He replied shortly, not necessarily interested in hearing anything you had to say but knowing it was better to play along with your delusion than reap the consequences of not.

You hummed pleasurably at that, ignoring his question altogether, “Kento…”

You beamed at the sound of his name despite his impudence, loving the sound of it being pronounced in your voice, the way your tongue moved around every letter in your mouth as you said it.

His name was handsome, he was handsome.

You leaned towards him once more as a sense of demented idolatry swelled in your chest; you wanted to be close to him, feel his ribs enclosed around your lungs and hear his deep voice in your head. Hear his heart beat in your chest and feel his blood mesh with yours — you wanted to be one, to think, to feel, to have him.

He could see the almost manic look in your eye as you looked at him. He was disturbed by it, tried to lean away but couldn’t, already pressed as flat as he could be against your black, wooden wall.

You bared him a wide smile that glimmered the whiteness of your sharp teeth, “We’re going to have so much fun together…”

𝜗𝜚𝕤𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 ✧･ﾟ: *

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shuacore · 1 year ago

Text

barcelona nights

reader (afab) x lsm — 6.9K summary: "The music is all but static in the background, and for a moment it’s just the two of you again, drinking in the airless summer night and the sounds of other couples enjoying each other’s company. You run your thumb across Seokmin’s bottom lip, completely enraptured. His eyes are dangerously dark." —a/n: a fun little birthday present for my bffl ang <3 tags: swearing, smut (18+), probably too much plot n not enough smut, not completely proofread i’m so sorry, mentions of alcohol??, emotional and physical intimacy are my kryptonite, additional warnings under the cut

additional warnings: unprotected sex (always be safe pls!!), oral (f receiving), pet names (princess, baby, angel, etc), not very adventurous but i would do anything with him tbh

playlist 4 the vibes!!! wyoming — elijah fox a quick getaway — stephen rennicks spring 1 — max richter, antonio vivaldi puerto claridad — amparanoia bamboleo — gypsy kings since i don’t have you — the skyliners the sun is in your eyes — jacob collier tell me — groove theory

Sweat drips down the bridge of your nose as the precarious stack of books in your hands threatens to wobble. Please, for the love of God, don’t fall. The summer heat is brutal—hot and humid—and it sucks all of the energy out of you as you shuffle to the library. It had been a difficult week of research and you were finally returning your books, ready to throw them and the stress from working so hard away. A bead of sweat lingers on your brow, slipping onto your eyelid and you blink furiously, praying it stays there until you can set your burden down.

In your fervor, you walk a bit too close to the curb, your toes slipping off the edge—you feel the stack slip dangerously, and you curse out loud as you realize you’re falling, desperately clutching your books to your chest, the pavement below approaching a bit too fast when—

A hand clamps around your wrist, hauling you out of the street just as a car zooms past, ruffling your hair.

“Careful!” a male voice says, breathless. And when you get a good look at your savior, it feels like you’ve been rocketed into one of the dramas you and your roommates obsessed over.

His name is Lee Seokmin, he’s 25, an anthropology major, and he is the most handsome and charming man you have ever seen. He picks you up off the street, flashes you the most blinding smile, and then your mind goes blank. The rest is history.

So it’s no surprise to you after three years when he still asks questions like, “Do you remember when we met?” You resist the urge to scoff fondly. Always so sentimental.

It’s a warm summer evening as you sit on the plaza, observing the night life of a quiet coastal Spanish town you had come across during the day. You pause the furious digging in your purse—for something which you had forgotten some time ago—to look at your partner, whose eyes are glazed over in dreamy contentment.

“Really?” you ask, tampering down the amused look of disbelief that fights its way across your face. Seokmin hates being teased unless he initiates, even if it’s all in good fun.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, in unwavering sincerity, head lolling against the back of the bistro chair as he watches you unabashedly. Even after so many years, Seokmin’s eyes still set your skin on fire, and he looks so picturesque like this, just a little bit undone from the day’s toils and a few glasses of wine down the line. The collar of his shirt is open a few buttons down, exposing a swatch of buttery smooth skin that—after the drinks you’ve had—makes your mouth water. He looks like the last burst of fading sunlight before nightfall.

You shake your head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous. Of course I do.”

Seokmin opens his mouth to say something else when his nostalgic reverie is interrupted by the waiter, who asks quietly if the two of you would like anything else. Your fiancé orders two more glasses of wine for the both of you, and thanks the waiter again as he finally takes the menus from your table.

It’s quieter now. The night is beginning to dwindle down, your bellies full of good food and wine, and in the distance the ocean waves wash across the rocky shores, pulling pebbles out to sea with quiet shushing sounds. The air is salty on your tongue, and you know you probably look a mess, especially after the long day of heat and humidity, but Seokmin watches you with shining eyes like you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You blush sheepishly, fingers finally finding your lipstick in the bottom of your bag.

“What?” you hiss without malice as Seokmin studies you. His cheeks are flushed, eyes shining even against the slowly dimming night light, and if you could commit an image to memory, if would be right here, right now, sitting at this table with him. Your stomach twists and you’re not sure if it’s a twinge of pain or an all-engulfing rush of affection, so instead you offer him another shy smile and replace your bag on the ground.

He shakes his head, more to himself, and says, “You’ll make fun of me.”

“Sure.”

“You’re just so radiant. All the time.”

You suck in a breath, cheeks burning and laugh nervously. Seokmin was an all-or-nothing kind of guy, which meant you got all of his affection, all the time. It was overwhelming in the beginning, seeing how devoted he could be to one person, but you had grown accustomed to the quiet deference in which he did everything for you. Compliments were near holy to him. Nothing was more intimate than your name. His actions always spoke louder than words. For a while you had been resistant to it—like you would never quite deserve all the love he had to give—but Seokmin had a way of worming his way into your heart and lodging there until his smile was the only thing you could think of when you woke up.

The waiter appears with two glasses in hand, asks once more if you need anything, before floating away again. You lift the glass—it’s a deep crimson and smells faintly sweet—and swirl the stem around in your fingers, watching the wine coat the sides of the glass with mesmerizing smoothness.

Seokmin lifts his glass and murmurs a toast. You say it back, and the glasses hit each other with a soft ding! His eyes glint at you over the rim as he takes a sip. The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and full-bodied, and it sends a flurry of warmth down your throat.

You hum in appreciation and set the glass down on the table. Above, the stars blink into existence, mimicking the lights flickering to life around the plaza. They wash the patio in a lovely yellow glow, throwing Seokmin into soft relief. He looks a little out of it, pretty lips parted in hazy awe of the scenery around him. It’s still humid, but not too warm—just cool enough that it’s hard to tell where your body ends and the rest of the world begins. A moped passes by, its headlights bouncing off the stone walls of the buildings around you. The chatter from other cafe-goers could be white noise in the trees. In the background the sounds of sultry guitar float through the air, soaking into your skin and you sigh deeply, stretching your arms high into the air above you. It lulls you into a serene sense of calm and you close your eyes—just for a moment.

Then—“Hey, dance with me,” you hear, whispered by lips pressed to your ear, and you open your eyes slowly to see Seokmin crouched next to your chair, his hand extended in offering. He looks so lovely here, so unguarded and pleased, the same overwhelming feeling of adoration—so strong it overflows into your throat—is difficult to choke back down. You take another hearty swig of wine, feeling it sink into your stomach and turn your legs to jelly. It activates the fuzzy feeling sitting dormant in your body, lifting you out of your chair and into the plaza center with other couples swaying slowly to the music emanating across the square. It all feels so horribly cinematic you’re having difficulty believing any of it’s real.

You inhale sharply as Seokmin pulls you close to him, your bodies snapping together like magnets. His skin is sticky and warm from the summer heat as his hands brush over your ribcage and come to rest on your waist, coaxing you into a sensual rhythm of swaying hips and chests rising and falling in tandem. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you tight to his body. The wine keeps you limber—which is nice because otherwise you’d be two left feet with out it.

Seokmin tips his head to rest his sticky forehead against yours, eyes dancing with mirth in the evening light. His fingers press into the small of your back, searing through the gauzy fabric of your blouse, igniting a slow burn that sweeps through your whole body. You sigh deeply as your eyes flutter closed, taking in the sounds of soft timbales and claves bouncing off the stone under your feet, the heat from Seokmin’s body on yours, and his lips pressed against your skin, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear.

It’s sexy, to say the least. The laughter and conversations around you vanish until all you know is the sound of Seokmin’s breath ragged in your ear and hot on your cheek. He smells like rosemary and mint and the soap from the hostel. His lips dip dangerously low on your cheek until they brush over the skin under your jaw, sending a chill down your spine despite the heat. Seokmin smiles against your temple as your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, skirting low over the smooth expanse of his stomach. He hums into your ear—a warning—as your fingertips trail just a little higher. But you’re still in public, so you pull back just enough to smile coyly at him and smooth the hem of his shirt back down.

The music is intoxicating, the melody swelling and swaddling you in a heady daydream of nothing but Seokmin. You tuck your nose into his shoulder, inhaling deeply as his fingers dance up your spine and land lightly on the back of your neck.

“God, I love you,” he confesses, and his laughter is swallowed by your lips suddenly on his, giddy and girlish. It’s just supposed to be an innocent peck—just a quick one you could share in public—but with the wine having gone completely to your head, the music reverberating in your chest, and Seokmin’s tongue in your mouth, it’s difficult to concentrate. Seokmin tastes like the Albariño you ordered, like lemon and nectarine, and so, so sweet your knees turn to liquid. He hums in content as a soft sigh escapes your mouth, unprompted. His hands are firm on your hips, fingers lacing through the belt loops of your skirt to pull you closer. You tangle your own in the damp strands at the nape of his neck, relishing the own sounds you can persuade from your partner’s throat.

Someone catcalls in the background and you come to with a start. Seokmin’s face is rosy—from the wine or from you, it’s hard to tell—but he’s well past the point of having the grace to look embarrassed. His eyes are glued to you, drinking you in completely. You grin, hiding your face in his chest. The music is all but static in the background, and for a moment it’s just the two of you again, drinking in the airless summer night and the sounds of other couples enjoying each other’s company. You run your thumb across Seokmin’s bottom lip, completely enraptured. His eyes are dangerously dark.

“Go back to the hotel?” you whisper, mouth hovering mere centimeters away from his.

Seokmin’s next kiss is indication enough. Grabbing your purse, he throws a few bills onto the bistro table before tugging you away from the plaza. Street signs bleed into flights of rickety stairs and cobblestone alleyways into flowered medians and quiet side roads. The ocean roars in greeting as you run unsteadily back to your hotel. Street lamps blaze into life amid loud shouts of laughter from nearby pedestrians, and the fluttery feeling in your stomach only grows. The only thing that stays constant is the feeling of Seokmin’s hand in yours, firm and reassuring.

Then, unprompted, Seokmin tugs you into a hidden alcove off the street, and presses you hard against the brick wall, tilting your jaw up with his thumbs to pull you into a searing kiss. He draws in a sharp breath, groaning softly into your mouth as you sag into his touch. You feel like a teenager again, sneaking off the beaten path so you can put your hands all over each other. Seokmin is impatient—his hands dig into your hips, his mouth is on your jaw, and his body is so hot it’s any wonder he hasn’t yet burst into flames.

“Seokmin,” you gasp, nails digging into his chest, breaking away. His excitement is palpable. He groans, irritated, and tips his forehead against your cheek, still holding you tight to him like you might still slip through his fingers. You extract yourself from his grasp, a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen and pull him away from the wall amidst protests. The privacy of your hotel room can’t arrive fast enough and it feels like eons before you’re pushing Seokmin against the back of the door yourself—so hard the air is knocked from his lungs—but he grins breathlessly as he draws you close, hip to hip, chest to chest, mouth to mouth.

You breath him in, smelling the lingering traces of cigarette smoke and lavender from the night markets on his clothes. Seokmin is all teeth and all tongue, hands traveling up and down the curve of your waist, over your ass, up your forearms and shoulders. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open as he slips his tongue in once more. You dissolve in his hands like water—you’ve always been so pliant with him, so eager to please it goes straight to his head.

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, hand holding your jaw in place. His eyes are asking for a challenge.

But you feel needy and slightly hysterical that it’s all you can do to say weakly, “You.”

Seokmin’s breath is hot in your mouth and you have no choice but to ride the wave. This is Seokmin’s all-or-nothing, as he drags your thin linen blouse off your shoulders, popping the top button clean off amid breathless laughter so he can press more open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and collarbone. You sigh deeply, winding your fingers into the hair at the back of his head again, chasing his lips with potent desperation. Seokmin grins, canines glinting wolfishly in the moonlight. It’s difficult to see in the burgeoning darkness—nothing but vague shadows dancing on the walls—so you kick off your shoes haphazardly, stumbling until your knees eventually strike the edge of the bed. You hit the mattress with a huff!, Seokmin in tow. His hand is hot against your bare skin, palm pressed flat to your chest where your heart races.

“This is your fault, by the way,” you tease, and Seokmin feigns sympathy, except his fingers are little too far up your thigh for the sympathy to land. You suck in a breath, eyes burning as Seokmin gazes at you with undisguised want, eyes flicking around your face in a dizzying pattern—eyes, lips, cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, lips—like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. The air grows thicker like mud, sticking in your nose and throat and you struggle to swallow, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Seokmin asks, voice laced with worry. His figure is clothed in deep blue shadow in the imminent darkness. Air is sparse, and anxiety flares in your stomach, unexpected, and you press a hand to your racing heart, willing it to slow. Your pulse is erratic and you realize you’re nervous.

“Woah, talk to me,” Seokmin pleads again, sitting up. His fingers around your wrist are soft, like all of him, and it eases the sudden ache in your chest, even if just a little. You place your other hand on top of his, stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

Your voice is hoarse. “Just nervous. I don’t know why—it’s so silly.”

And then Seokmin is there, tucking you into his arms and his nose in your hair, swaying as he holds you for a moment.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You know that.”

You frown, pushing away from his chest. “No–no, I want this. Just–had a moment, but I’m ok.” You lean your forehead on his shoulder again. “I’m always ok when I’m with you.” The quiet presses in on your ears. The incessant buzzing in your fingertips fades to the background, slowing to the steady rhythm of Seokmin’s heartbeat in his chest—reliable as always, a constant you had come to memorize like the spots on his face.

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers against your temple. “Whatever you want.”

The soft glow from the street lamps outside illuminate his features in a tranquil yellow hue. He looks angelic, always so gentle and willing, that it sucks the remaining air out of your lungs.

He settles back on the edge of bed, hands resting on your hips as he gazes up at you with adoration so tangible it makes your heart ache. You run your fingers gently through his hair, pushing the dark strands off his forehead and trace the shape of his profile with your pointer finger, down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, pausing over his waiting lips, down his chin until you grasp it in between your thumb and forefinger.

“You’re beautiful, too, you know?” you say, voice soft. And Seokmin smiles, pleased, and it lights up his whole face, sending a bolt of warmth down your throat like lightning. The crashing waves of the ocean are muffled under the sound of your heart in your ears. Seokmin is quiet, arms tight around your waist. Had it not been for the pulsing rhythm in your body, this might have been a tender moment—but the heat is still there, prodding in your stomach, building, smoldering, aching.

You want him. Bad.

With a noise of impatience, you pull his face back towards yours, curving your body to pull him in, kissing him longingly, hoping he’ll sense the desperation growing in your stomach, understand the way you need to feel him under and over and inside you. Seokmin reads you like the back of his hand—senses the tension in your shoulders—and knows that if he uses his mouth just right your last remaining shred of self-control will snap.

He pulls at the rest of the buttons on your blouse with agonizing restraint, kissing every inch of skin revealed with painstaking deference. His mouth trails down your sternum, pausing as he listens to the quiet exhales that leave your mouth. The skin on your stomach is sensitive to his touch, and you bite back a few nervous giggles as Seokmin ghosts his lips just down to where the waistband of your skirt rests on your hips. His thumbs dig into the skin there, and he peers up at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. Asking for permission. You nod, breath shallow in your throat.

“Should be on my knees for a princess,” your fiancé murmurs lowly, dropping to his knees in front of you. What had been a steady flame in your gut erupts into a hunger so strong it might consume you from the inside out. Your mouth goes dry as he gentle pulls you down to the mattress, urging you to sit.

In the same tender manner, Seokmin lifts the sole of your foot to his lips, eyes darkening as your breath quickens yet. His breath fans across your bare skin, up your ankles and your shin, before he pauses to press a hot kiss to the inside of your knee, teeth digging into the soft skin there. The static in your ears increases tenfold as his other hand pushes the hem of your skirt up to your waist. Seokmin’s mouth continues upward, stopping on the supple skin of the inside of your thighs. Hunger gnaws at your insides by now, and you tense your stomach in anticipation. Seokmin’s pupils are blown wide—impossibly dark as he takes you in—forcing you backwards, his mouth hovering just over the fabric in between you and complete bareness. Your breath quickens—waiting, waiting, waiting—as Seokmin’s tongue trails from the inside of your knee right to where your thigh pools at your hip.

And then, with a dazed smirk, he sets your foot down—not on the floor—but gently over the bulge in his pants. Seokmin leans forward ever so slightly, eyes daring. Already he’s so hard, even under his trousers and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from falling apart right there.

“See what you do to me?” he rasps, breath hitching as you press your foot down—just a little—to feel him so vulnerable under you. Your panties are soaked by now—it feels like you’re wearing nothing at all. Seeing Seokmin like this, shirt unbuttoned to his stomach, hair still styled so nicely, lips parted with desire; you want him like this, now, all the time.

“Seokmin–fuck–” you choke, the words ripped from your mouth as you feel his tongue, wet and hot over your panties. Seokmin tosses one of your feet over his shoulder as he wraps his fingers in the waistband, pulling your panties taut. The ability to control yourself is lost. You curve into his touch as Seokmin gently pulls your panties aside, and presses one last reverent kiss to the inside of your hip.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your skin, “always so beautiful for me.” Then his mouth is on you, open-mouthed and scorching on your cunt, the tip of his tongue circling around your clit, tasting every part of you. You clench your fists into the sheets, gasping for air as he wraps his strong arms around your thighs to pin you down. Even still, you squirm away from his mouth, hands pushing at his head as he sends you to cloud nine. His eyes are searing even behind closed eyelids as he drinks your pleasure, watching in rapture.

Seokmin’s voice is almost inaudible over the thrum of your heart in your ears. “You like the way I worship you, baby?”

“Yes, please, yes, oh my god, Seokmin, please,” you plead, lurching upwards to curl around his head as a particularly powerful bolt of pleasure rushes through your body. He’s ruthless, nails biting into your thighs as you writhe in pleasure, nose bumping against your clit, mouth planted firmly on your pussy as your cries become higher and more desperate. It builds and builds and builds, a rope in your gut stretching and pulling until you feel like you might snap in half. The pleasure mounts as Seokmin crudely licks his tongue up your cunt, pressed flat against your skin and you release a strangled groan, fingers knotting in his hair.

“S–Seokmin, I’m—” you gasp, body tensed in anticipation.

And then he leans back, and your release fades as quickly as it appeared. Your body aches uncomfortably. The mattress sinks down on either side of you as he braces his hands by your head. Seokmin grins, tucking a few pieces of hair gently behind your ear, dragging your mouth open with his thumb once more to push his tongue past your lips. He tastes like you and he moans as you pull him in by the back of his neck, kissing him fiercely.

“You’re a dick,” you protest, shoving his shoulder. Seokmin’s smile is tender, his cheeks flushed despite his actions just moments ago.

“Hey,” he says in between kisses to your collarbone that stifle the feeble protests spewing from your mouth, “I don’t wanna go too fast.”

You groan weakly, as he shifts his knee in between your thighs. He wraps his fingers around one of your ankles, lifting it up onto his hip.

“But I wanna feel you,” you complain, looping your arms around his neck as if to urge him on. But Seokmin just shakes his head, grinning. His leg shifts again, pressing against the ache in between your thighs and you instinctively roll your hips, mouth dropping open at the touch. He places a large hand on your pelvis, pinning you to the bed.

“I’m taking my time with you,” he says against your mouth, smiling as you sag onto the bed.

He wanted to fuck slow.

And he does, touching you with feather-light pressure, building your frustration and anticipation until you’re a sweating, panting, desperate disaster in his hands—and only then does Seokmin let you feverishly remove the rest of his clothes. The desire to feel him, see him, taste him has grown so vicious you might cry. He perches on the edge of the bed again, and with shaking hands you jerk the rest of his shirt off his broad shoulders, scraping your nails down his chest to the belt at his waist. You’ve always loved Seokmin’s body—its strong, lithe build, all toned and smooth. Seokmin curses under his breath, tossing his head back in pleasure as you kiss along his jaw and down his torso. The muscles in his stomach tense under your touch, pulled taut as your lips reach his hips again. Slowly, you undo the button on his trousers, all the while keeping burning eye contact. You want Seokmin to see how much you need him.

“Let me touch you,” you whisper against his abdomen, waiting for the desperate nod, before your fingers slip under the waistband of his briefs to finally take him in your hand. Seokmin moans low and you moan with him, imagining when he would finally let you take him, how he would stretch you out, and you’d finally feel all of him.

You pull your hand back to spit, making sure to keep your eyes on him as you do, before wrapping your fingers around his length again. Seokmin’s voice is choked in his throat as you run your hand up and down his entire shaft, taking care to twist your fist around the base of his cock, delicately trailing up and around the head, soaking up every breathy sound of satisfaction that leaves Seokmin’s lips.

With palpable restlessness, you yank the rest of Seokmin’s clothes off, straddling him on the edge of the bed again. He feels the damp fabric of your panties against his thigh and groans, his fingers knitting into your hair to kiss you again, feverish and wanting. You grind down, feeling his cock hard against your pussy and laugh weakly—except it sticks in your throat as Seokmin’s nails dig into your hip, dragging your cunt down his length again.

“You want me so bad, don’t you?” Seokmin goads, hand holding the back of your head as you roll your hips up and down his length with increasing desperation. Your nails dig into his chest. He pulls your panties to the side, eyes fluttering closed as your arousal slides over his skin. The heat of the room muddles your brain, heightening every sensation. You’re already so wet, needy and willing to do anything to make the tightness in your stomach go away. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Please–” you beg, “need you. Seokmin–”

His lips are crushing, destroying any semblance of thought you might have had.

“Go ahead, princess,” Seokmin groans, as you pull your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into yourself and using your arousal to lubricate his cock again. The weight of Seokmin’s cock in your hand, the sound of your fingers sliding down the length is enough to have you weak in the knees. Seokmin’s hands splay across your back, propping you up as you line up his cock with your entrance.

Your fiancé has always been a romantic, and this time is no different as Seokmin kisses you, open mouth waiting to breathe in your needy moans as you slowly sink down onto his cock. In your agitation, it’s still tight, extracting a few hisses of discomfort out of you. But Seokmin is there, soothing you with quiet shushes against your lips, thumbs stroking your cheeks as you take him all the way. He stretches you out, nice and slow, drawing the air from your lungs.

There you go, that’s my girl. You’re doing so well, baby.

His praise rolls over you like late afternoon sunlight, settling in your chest until you feel lightheaded—the love in your chest is too much to take. It feels more intimate than usual, being nose to nose with Seokmin like this, seeing every emotion flicker in his eyes, feeling his breath fan over your face as he pants. You comb your fingers through his hair and cup his face in your hands, as the fluttery, panicky desperation for a hold on reality reappears in your chest again. You gasp as Seokmin shifts farther onto the bed, nails biting into his scalp as he pulls you closer.

He can surely feel the supersonic pace of your heart against his chest and he shushes you gently, pressing his lips against your sternum.

“I–I just need you to relax, sweetheart,” you hear him murmur in your daze, hands running up and down your spine. “Just a little more.”

You nod, eyes squeezes shut as you try to swallow the trepidation in your stomach. Seokmin takes it all with grace; his voice is like honey in your ear, sticky and sweet, whispering soft reassurances. Seokmin’s love can be so strong—even after all this time—that it overwhelms you, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless. You’re not used to the devotion that even now, it sometimes takes a little to get used to, so you tuck your nose in the crook of his neck. The smell of sunshine still sticks to his skin, like a moth to a flame.

“Baby, are you still with me?” Seokmin asks, forefinger petting your cheek. “Hm?”

You nod wordlessly, breathing deeply while Seokmin watches, attentive, until you’ve finally taken all of him. Seokmin bottoms out with a strangled groan, and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, chest stuttering as you roll your hips with impatience. Even then, it’s still too much right away and you freeze, gasping for breath.

“Hey,” Seokmin says, holding your face in his hands, “we have all night. Take it slow.”

“I know I just—ah–” you whine, stubborn, as you roll your hips again—ignoring the vague hesitancy in your stomach—this time relishing in the dull ache in between your legs, feeling the stretch and pull as Seokmin coaxes your hips into a lazy rhythm. He watches closely, mapping out your body with his hands, leaving you out of breath and hazy in the head. You throw your head back as he kisses your exposed throat, mouth hot over your skin.

Seokmin rests his hand at the base of your throat—not quite squeezing—and leaves it there. The possessive glint in his eyes is enough to say you are mine. Mine. The thought alone is enough to have you falling into his touch.

Mine.

He slips the other hand lower, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, persuading languorous moans from your mouth, watching you with sordid fascination as you respond to his every touch. You brace your hand on his knee, brow furrowing as the pleasure in your core molds into shape. It’s hot and heavy, radiating so strongly it makes your arm shake.

“Just like–that,” you whine, nails digging into Seokmin’s thigh as he fucks into you slow, gripping your ass so hard you know it’ll leave marks. He curses as you clench around his cock, urging him to go faster. But Seokmin is, and always has been, more patient than you, and he grins slowly, even through heavy-lidded eyes clouded with lust, gripping your hips tight enough to still your movement.

“What did I say?” he challenges, lips hovering millimeters over yours. You frown, protests falling on deaf ears, as he leans in closer. His lips brush yours as he whispers, “Go. Slow.”

So you try, rolling your hips, grinding down on his cock until you think you might die, until your restlessness is as tangible as the arousal dripping onto Seokmin’s thighs. He fluctuates between playing with your clit–just until you’re on the verge of release—and waiting, just long enough to keep the buzz in your body at bay. Your knees ache as you hold yourself up, feeling Seokmin’s cock slide and and out, his hands in your hair and on your ass. He edges you, daring you to come first each time you whimper you’re close, waiting until the shaking in your fingers stops just for him to continue.

You’ve never been a crier, but after twenty minutes of this, you’re certain that even a slight breeze would cause you to come undone. Seokmin’s cock rests deep inside to the hilt, his mouth is on your skin, and you know that if he moves, you’ll come harder than you ever have before.

“Baby, please,” you beg, hips jerking at every slight movement, “please–”

Seokmin smiles, and even just the sight of his pretty teeth have the tears you’ve been holding back, rolling down your cheeks like two big fat admissions of defeat. You suck in a breath as Seokmin lifts you off his cock, dropping you onto your back on the mattress. He places one of your ankles over his shoulder, pressing you down by the back of your thigh as you toss the other around his waist.

The sounds coming from your mouth are less than human as Seokmin runs his fingers through your arousal again, placating your whines with his lips. You feel like you’re about to snap.

“Seokmin, fuck me.” It sounds so ridiculous coming from your mouth you think you might cry again, but the thought is shoved away as Seokmin slaps his cock against your needy cunt a few times, pulling more animalistic cries from your throat.

“Soon, pet,” he grins, and then his cock is pushing into you again, his fingers on your clit, his eyes dark and earnest as your whole body tenses in his arms.

Your nails claw into his skin and he hisses, brow furrowed, as you drag them down his back with uncharacteristic force, but the thought of his beautiful back marked by your torment only feeds the fire in your belly. You arch your spine, pressing into him as Seokmin draws his cock back out, still much slower than you would like. He’s just winding you up at this point, seeing just how far you’re breaking point is.

Seokmin tuts, simpering as you pant deliriously under him. He leans down, brushing his lips over your cheekbone to rest his forehead against yours. You groan impatiently.

“Patience, lamb,” Seokmin urges, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, and you frown like a petulant child. Your protests are quickly silenced as he moves, pushing into you with little urgency, pulling back out with agonizing slowness, relishing in the tiny sounds escaping your tightly clamped lips. His strokes are languid as he holds you close to his body. Sometimes it feels like a challenge, to see how long you can go without indulging Seokmin, but today every sensation is amplified tenfold—the smell of his hair, the feeling of his skin, his fingers on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock deep inside. He holds your head in between his hands, petting your hair when you tense, whispering sweet words against your skin.

“Look at me, baby,” Seokmin murmurs, brushing the hair off your forehead. Your pry your eyes open, resisting every impulse to squeeze them shut again as Seokmin pushes into you again, this time with more heat, feeling the burn in his own body increase as you brace yourself against his shoulders. His strokes are long and deep, barely a second apart before he drives back into you to the hilt, swimming in the crude sounds of skin against skin. A chorus of moans fills the room as Seokmin finally fucks you into subspace, your head going foggy with pleasure. The sounds leaving your mouth are barely coherent—just a messy jumble of garbled syllables. Seokmin is unrelenting. His stomach is tense with the effort it takes to keep up his pace. You’ve all but given up on keeping your eyes open, instead falling openly into the pleasure that builds in your gut again.

Good girl. Just a little more, I promise. Look at you, so beautiful like this. Just like that.

Good girl.

My girl.

You want to hold on. You want to hold on as long as possible. But Seokmin’s praise washes over you like the tide, saccharine and familiar, so you come again and again, feeling insurmountable pleasure pulse through your body—white-hot and blinding—so intense it leaves you breathless and weak, as Seokmin’s voice continues to flit in and out of focus.

“God!” you plead, as an orgasm so powerful it rips your voice from your throat tears through you. Your nails bite crescents into your fiancé’s shoulders, and you jolt upward to kiss Seokmin feverishly, fingers carding desperately through his hair as he fucks you through your high.

“Where–” Seokmin stutters, jaw clenched.

So you breathe, “In me,” and Seokmin groans long and low, as he comes undone, his release hot inside you, fingers searching for yours as he heaves. His hand is clammy and you smooth your other over his cheek, thumb skating over his cheekbone. Seokmin looks ragged, hair fucked and messy, lip bleeding from where you bit him in a fit of passion. He kisses you again, hungry and desperate as if the last forty minutes hadn’t been enough of you for him. Then he pulls out slowly, frowning apologetically as you wince in discomfort. He sets your foot back on the bed, before pressing one last, sweet kiss to your pelvis. You feel fucked raw, sensitive from all that the two of you had done.

Seokmin always ravishes you like it’s the first time he gets to hold you, taking his time until the bedsheets are tangled around your limbs and you’re both utterly spent. He loves you deep into the night, until the sun threatens to peek over the horizon. The dreamy cerulean color of the sky tells you it’s far too late for you to be awake. The street noise below has become all but mute, as the townspeople slumber peacefully in their homes. It’s the birdsong that pulls you from your reverie, still bleary-eyed and a little limp, so sudden you place your palms flat on Seokmin’s chest and stare at him in disbelief. He hums in acknowledgment, stirring from his place at your side.

“What time is it?” you rasp, voice hoarse from use.

Seokmin groans, reaching for his phone and murmurs, “Almost 4:30.”

Your eyes open a few more centimeters. “It’s been—it’s been all night.”

Your fiancé flashes his usual heartbreaking smile. “I know,” he says, and groans as he turns onto his side to look at you, “but I just wanted to be with you.” He tucks his arm under his head, reaching out a hand to run his thumb over your bottom lip. You kiss the pad of his thumb, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

It always feels like a promise coming from his lips.

You flop back onto the bed, wincing at the twinge in your ass and roll over onto your stomach, tucking your chin over your folded hands. The Spanish coast is quiet, and for a while it’s just you and the ocean and the intimate sounds of Seokmin’s even breathing as he falls back asleep.

The next thing you feel are his lips on the base of your spine, and the early afternoon sun in your eyes. You blink groggily, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand as Seokmin kisses up your back. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and you wrap yourself in the top sheet, smiling sweetly as Seokmin leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, and rolls off the bed—still naked—over to the small kitchenette. “Coffee?”

You lift your arms high over your head, stretching until your muscles feel sore and limber, sighing deeply. “Mm, please.” Seokmin nods and grabs two espresso cups from the cupboard.

From your spot on the bed, you settle back, admiring the view of your beautifully sculpted fiancé preparing morning coffee. He’s started working out again, and you see the smooth muscles across his back flex as he stretches. Your eyes trace the graceful curve of his spine to his narrow hips and you flush, stifling a nervous giggle. Even making coffee while butt-naked, Seokmin exudes an easy confidence that sets you at peace, the slope of his shoulders relaxed as he waits for the espresso to finish brewing. The aroma of coffee curls into the air and you smile to yourself, tucking your chin into the palm of your hand. How did you get to be so lucky?

Seokmin catches you staring and breaks you from your trance by kissing your temple, holding a small espresso in his hand.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. You tilt your head and just nod, scooting so he can join you on the bed again and press a kiss to his bare shoulder. Seokmin still smells like his sunscreen. He squeezes your thigh again, gazing wordlessly over the balcony at the coastline. It’s picturesque—nothing exists beyond this hotel room except for you and him.

The espresso is warm in your hands, but Seokmin’s body is warmer.

You’ll never be cold again.

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