#these are currently sifting through my mind

[writing-blog-iguess]

Another poll for you to decide my fic update or not. Feel free to ask for snippets if you’d like

(It’s the tenth doctor if anyone was curious)

[crescentfool]

doing things outside of your usual is such a humbling experience...

[exocaliii]

❦︎ Is That What You Want? (It's You)

| Se-mi / Player 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: In the worst possible place, you reunite with someone you never thought you would see again. Fortunately for you, the looming threat of death unveils many long lost feelings you both tried (and failed) to let go.

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: mention of suicide, death, violence, hurt/comfort, occasional use of Y/N even tho I do try to avoid it, lots of YEARNING, kind of a childhood friends to lovers typa scenario, kissing (but it's only in like one paragraph at the very end sorry freaksters....)

A/N: SEMI FIC HERE TO MAKE UP FOR HER FUMBLE IN THE LAST ONE!!!! this one is also extremely plot heavy as u can see from the word count LOL but I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!! tried to show her softer side in this as well as her playfulness! this is for the people asking for a se-mi fic in my inbox sorry I made the post before I could click "respond to ask" and now im afraid I might actually delete everything so... this is for u whoever u are <3 I didn't read it over this time y'all so praying for no typos... ENJOY

—

When Se-mi first spots you, you’re crouched down in front of a table and surrounded by four other women as you throw the gonggi pieces into the air. For a solid minute, she thinks her eyes are playing tricks on her - that or this person that bears a striking resemblance to her first real friend wasn’t you at all. However, when your team rapidly advances around the bloodied track, she’s allowed a closer look at you; your hair has grown longer and you’re just a bit taller than the last time she saw you, but your eyes are still the same and that’s what confirms it for her. 

She doesn’t cheer when you win - her throat feels strangely tight and her heart is heavy in her chest even with your victory - but she does feel an overwhelming sense of relief as she watches you bound past the finish line. Seeing you smile and laugh once again stirs something inside of her, an emotion she hasn’t felt for years. 

Before you completely disappear behind the doors of the field, she swears she sees you turn around and look directly at her, vague recognition clear on your face. 

—

“Hey, where are you running off to so fast?”

Laughter rings out behind you as you pick up your pace, clutching your bag tight to your chest. Multiple footsteps fall in behind you, and with a short glance over your shoulder at the agitated faces of the girls trailing you, you realize today might not just end with a bit of teasing. It’s New Year’s Eve though and the sun is mostly set, so maybe they won’t knock you out cold so you can make it home on time to welcome the new year with your family.

“C’mon, aren’t you gonna pay us back?” For what, you want to shout, but before you even get the chance to respond, the footsteps behind you suddenly speed up. You’re practically thrown to the ground with a single hard shove on your back, arms flailing as your bag scuttles across the concrete. “My dad said your family owes us some money, you know, and I don’t mind getting it from you.”

Your head is spinning and your nose feels oddly hot, but you hear her words loud and clear and they send a deep feeling of shame through your entire body. A hand tangles itself in your hair as your head is pulled back, causing yet another fit of laughter to ring throughout the alley. “Fuck, her nose is bleeding so much! Did you break it?”

The one holding you by the hair reassures her group that you’d be fine, they could just say you fell because currently, it was your word against five other students. A part of you begins to wonder if anyone would even come help if you screamed right then - the alley was right next to the school, someone was bound to hear you. 

As the other four begin to sift through your bag for any valuables, you find your mouth sealed shut, afraid that even a whimper of pain would turn the attention of this pack of wolves back towards you. You didn’t have much in your wallet these days, and what you did have was pocket change for emergencies. They would go home disappointed either way, but whatever kept you from getting beaten the worst would be preferred. 

“What the hell, she’s only got like 5000 won in here.” The tallest girl turns to you with both confusion and disdain evident on her face. “Are you really that fucking poor? Where’s the rest of it?”

She stands right back up and so does the other three, all slowly advancing on you as you were held down by the fifth. You don’t even struggle against her loose grip on your hair, slowly coming to accept the fact that you might just have to take a beating for today, because there is no ‘the rest of it.’ 

Perhaps, if you’re lucky, they’ll get bored fast at your lack of reaction to anything they do and you’ll only go home with a bloody nose and a couple easily hidden bruises. 

You can accept that fate, you can accept your place in this world. 

“What the hell’s going on here?” 

Everyone’s heads, even yours, turn towards the lone girl standing at the entrance of the alleyway. With the setting sun behind her, her face is mostly casted in shadows. You think you recognize her as one of the troublemakers in your math class, constantly getting sent outside to stand in the hallway and ‘think about what she’s done.’ Even after being in the same class for two years, you still haven’t quite learned anything about her beyond her antics. The reason for why she’s butting in though, is also lost on you.

“Mind your business, Se-mi.” So that’s her name. It fits her. “We’re just teaching this one a nice lesson in karma.” 

How ironic. Five girls beating on a younger classmate would definitely bring them amazing luck for the New Year.

Se-mi’s eyes trail down towards the ground, towards you, and her eyes take in your bloody nose and the deep-blue bruise already forming on your cheek. For a second, you think she might just leave you here like anyone else would, but after some obvious inner contemplation, she speaks up once again.

“She looks like she understands it just fine now,” she says mockingly, beginning to walk closer towards you all. Her eyes are sharp, leaving no room for argument, and you only wish you could be half as strong to stand up to these girls. “Maybe you guys should just head home.” It sounds less like a suggestion than it does a threat, and your attackers respond in kind. 

“What, you got a problem with us?” It’s obviously not a real question, but a chance for Se-mi to back out now before things get serious. She doesn’t.

“Yeah, I do, so what’re we gonna do about it?” 

Inwardly, you curse yourself for inadvertently placing this stranger at risk to get beat up right alongside you for a problem that definitely had nothing to do with her. 

For a second, the girls are silent, but you can practically feel their anger growing as the one on top of you lets go of your hair. Se-mi stands her ground, expression just as cold as always as they try (and fail) to intimidate her with their glares. You’re frozen in awe of this idiot for both her courage and her poor decision-making skills.

It’s no surprise to you when the tall one lunges forward to try and land the first punch in the inevitable fight, but Se-mi is quick to dodge it and redirect her momentum right into the side of a trash can. All hell breaks loose after that, and for a second, you think your savior might just win the fight with pure skill and experience alone, but reality catches up to you both. 

With pure numbers, they bring Se-mi to the ground, and even though you scramble to your feet and try to fight them as well, you’re humbled even faster with your already pre-existing injuries and lack of knowledge on any forms of fighting. The tall one is the angriest, screaming curses at you both as you’re kicked and punched on the ground. Se-mi’s attempt to get back on her feet is thwarted by a solid hit on her face, and your lack of an attempt is rewarded with a fist right to the center of your ribcage, knocking all the air out from your lungs. 

As you’re beginning to think they might really want to kill you both, sirens in the distance interrupt the bombardment of pain on your sore body. 

“Shit, is that the police? Have we been spotted?” Their voices are now twinged with a hint of anxiety at being caught, and fortunately for the two of you, that’s all it takes to end the assault. “Let’s just leave.”

With a final kick to your back, the girls quickly grab their backpacks and run for it, long forgetting your own bag and the 5000 won that started this beatdown in the first place. 

—

As you look around the giant room for a place to eat, you find yourself unconsciously scanning the crowd for a familiar face as well. 

A part of you is sure that it was her that you walked right by in the middle of the last game, but you were so focused on facing forward to make sure you wouldn’t trip that you weren’t able to get a clear look at her face. Even after you won, you were given little to no time to do anything on the field before being ushered back to the main room. Now, you’re beginning to think that the looming threat of death is making you cling even harder to long lost dreams, but you hope that isn’t enough to make you hallucinate people you used to know. 

Sitting down on one of the unoccupied steps, you open your container and begin digging in, forcing yourself to forget the foolish dream that’s been occupying your mind for hours now. Even during the vote, you found your hand drifting towards the bright red X just in case she really was here and at risk of imminent death (just like everyone else). In the end, the blue patch on your chest is unchanging, and no imaginary companion will change that.

“Y/N?”

Your neck almost snaps clean in half with the way your head shoots up to see the person who just called your name, a name you are 100% sure you didn’t give to anyone here. Yet, when you see who it is, you’re somehow even more surprised than you would’ve been if it was some stranger. 

Se-mi casually stands right in front of you after what felt like a lifetime without her. She smiles - no, smirks at the recognition evident on your face and plops herself down right next to you.

“Long time no see, 399,” she says, her voice teetering on the edge of teasing and what might be genuine happiness to see you again. Of course, she has to ruin the moment by reminding you of the situation you had to reunite in, and you glance down at the number on her chest as well.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you again, 380.” You add as much sass to your voice as you can manage in the moment, but it comes out just as soft as you meant it in your heart because it is good to see her again. 

For a moment, the two of you can only stare at each other, picking up the differences in each person’s appearance since the last time you met. It’s the kind of peaceful silence that you haven’t been afforded for far too long, and now that it’s given to you, you can’t bring yourself to be the one that breaks it. Luckily for you, it seems like Se-mi can’t either, because all she does is stare at you with an indecipherable look in her eyes. If you had to describe it, you might say that it’s the unspoken equivalence of the softness in your voice from earlier (by now, you understand full well that the most genuine emotion you’ll get out of her might just have to come from carefully reading every one of her expressions). 

For a long time, the two of you simply eat in silence, basking in each other’s company. Your legs occasionally brush with how close she sat to you, but it doesn’t feel awkward in the slightest; if anything, it’s comforting, reminding you of your youth together before the real world caught up. 

“So, you know what I’m gonna ask you.” As always, it’s her that breaks the silence between you two, and you can’t blame her for being curious. Afterall, this was a horrible place to meet someone you know.

“My father’s business finally completely collapsed, and now we’re getting chased around the country by loan sharks,” you say, laughing a bit at your own situation. It didn’t take long for you to decide that Se-mi deserved to know the truth, but you knew she would be the last person to judge you for such circumstances. “I didn’t have any other options besides this.”

She doesn’t look at you with pity for your answer. It’s one of the traits you appreciated most from her back then. 

“What about you? How’d you end up in this shithole?” 

Your question earns you a laugh that as always, never fails to make you smile right back at her.

“I mean, I can’t say I’m getting chased around, but I’ve got a bit of debt I need to handle.” She almost decides to cut her story off there, but you’re looking at her with such genuine interest in your eyes that she can’t bring herself to hide the rest from you. How long has it been since someone cared so much about what she had to say? “College was… too expensive. I didn’t have anyone that could help out, so I’ve just been working random jobs here and there.”

Unfortunately, her answer seems completely honest. You wish you could’ve been there by her side, but your own family was dealing with a lot then too. 

“Why didn’t you just… continue to try to make it work out there?” You’re praying that your question doesn’t come off as insensitive, but she seems to find it amusing if anything. “Why would you risk losing everything like this?”

That last phrase earns you a scoff this time, and she turns away with a strained expression, clearly struggling to keep her ever cocky smirk on her face.

“I don’t have anything left to lose. This place is my chance to get a headstart or just…” The rest remains unsaid, and even though she’s speaking so casually, your heart drops at the insinuation. “...I haven’t left a mark on the world at all, Y/N. What happens here really won’t matter much to anyone out there.”

For a second, you’re stumped as to how to answer her. There’s some twisted truth to her reasoning, and you’re sure that if most of the people in this room died tomorrow, their deaths would be passed off as mere victims to loan sharks or suicide. That, or their disappearances wouldn’t be noticed at all. But no. It isn’t the same for Se-mi, and you desperately want her to know that.

“It would matter a lot to me.” You try to make it sound casual so she doesn’t tuck tail and run like she usually does, but you know it left an impact on her with the way her eyes drift to the ground and her brows furrow just slightly. “You left a pretty big impact on my life, you know that?”

As you turn back towards your food, Se-mi glances at you from the corner of her eye. There isn’t a hint of deception or even sarcasm in your face, in your voice, in any part of you. It’s a level of honesty she’s only ever experienced from you, and after being apart for so long, she had forgotten how soothing it was to be on the receiving end of such genuine kindness. 

For years now, she had found herself searching for you in every face she came across, in every friend and partner she had, in every short moment of peace she was allowed in her rocky life. Now that she’s finally found you though, she’s not sure what to do with herself. 

For the rest of night, right up until lights-out, the two of you bask in the silence once again. In your own separate ways, you both sit there and think about each other. You consider what you lost when you were separated from her. She considers the fact that she might’ve just regained something she can now lose if her own life is lost, and the thought of it terrifies her. 

When it’s time to sleep, it’s Se-mi that gets up first, albeit with a great deal of hesitance. The two of you part ways, and before you can get too far, you hear a faint whisper from behind you.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

It makes you crack a smile, turning around to see her still looking at you. Her smile is still strained, but now, there’s a hint of happiness there.

“Yeah, you too, and goodnight, Se-mi.” 

Even now, the sound of your soft voice calling her name makes her heart skip a beat.

—

“What the fuck was that…” 

You finally begin to stir awake at the groans and curses coming from beside, and all your body feels is pain.

God, they really did a number on you didn’t they?

“Fucking cops didn’t even stop for us,” the voice groans again, now paired with a faint shuffling as you watch her attempt to get back on her feet through your incredibly blurry eyes. All you can manage is to roll onto your back, looking up to see the pitch black sky.

Wait, black?! 

How long have you been out?!

“Uff!” A loud clatter of boxes graces your ears as you glance over to see her - Se-mi, was it? - right back on the ground. From the looks of it, her legs were also feeling extremely uncooperative. You already feel like shit, but she took a majority of the beating so she probably feels even worse. Guilt courses through you as she groans in pain, rolling onto her back to mimic your position. 

For a couple minutes, you both lay there in silence, staring up at the empty night sky. In the far distance, cars zoom past on the main road, likely salarymen rushing to get home to their families in time to celebrate New Years.

By now, you've come to the realization that you'll probably would have to celebrate yours alone on the ground this time, considering the fact that your body was not letting you get back up. For now, at least, maybe you can get to know your savior (or rather, attempted savior).

“...I’m sorry about this,” you whisper, sighing heavily into the cold December air.

“Did you get a few hits in on me too?” She’s clearly mocking you, but you can’t even be mad right now. 

“Still… sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” A beat of silence follows. “I never liked those bitches anyways.” 

The second part is almost whispered as if it were a secret between the two of you, and you let out a small chuckle, cutting yourself off before it becomes a laugh as pain shoots up your torso at that small movement. 

In the tranquility that follows, Se-mi begins to fully question why she was laying there on the cold concrete in extreme discomfort for a stranger - well, not really a stranger, but she doesn’t even know your name. Then she thinks back to the ugly feeling she had in her gut watching you get cornered by those stuck-up rich kids, unwilling to even fight back, and she thinks she might’ve done the right thing despite how meaningless this encounter might become. 

She looks over at your bruised face thinking about how similar you looked to a kicked puppy at that instance, and she can’t help but push your buttons even more. 

“Aren’t you glad we were able to save your 5000 won?” 

The absurdity of her statement distracts you from the pain you feel, and after a scoff and a slight shake of your head, you find yourself genuinely laughing for the first time in a long time. It doesn’t take long for her to follow, and after a couple moments, you both find yourselves giggling like children at the shitty situation.

You enjoy this rare moment of companionship for only a couple seconds before you begin hearing loud shouts in the distance.

They’re counting down, but you’re nowhere near home and neither is she.

“5!”

“Hey, what’s your name?” 

“4!”

You turn your head and answer her, and she smiles at you.

“3!”

“I’m Se-mi.” 

“2!”

It’s different hearing her name from her own mouth, spoken without any of the hatred that your attackers infused into the word.

“1!”

You both look up just in time to see fireworks lighting up the once dark sky, red, yellow, and green hues reflecting in your eyes as you force yourself to relax and take in the moment. 

In this moment, with Se-mi by your side, you don’t feel as lonely as you expected yourself to be. It’s a feeling of comfort you’re rarely given, but you openly bask in it as you think about the confidence and bravery it must’ve taken to stand up against five people like that. In another life, perhaps, you could be someone like her, protecting people like you. 

Like a knight in shining armor.

“Happy New Year, Y/N. I’m going to sleep now.” Your head snaps over in her direction as she folds her hands behind her head and closes her eyes, getting way too comfortable on the ground of a shady alleyway.

“What?” No response. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re not sleeping here!”

She bluntly ignores you and her breaths get heavier, but it’s obvious that she’s just pretending to be asleep. The thought of getting up and leaving by yourself crosses your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to part with this girl just yet.

With a resigned sigh, you roll onto your side with a pained groan and close your eyes as well, praying that no mysterious van comes to kidnap you two in this moment.

“Happy New Year, Se-mi.” Silence. “And thank you.”

You’re already facing her so when you peak open your eyes, you see her lips twitch upwards at your choice to stay, and that solidifies the deal.

When morning comes the next day, you don’t even bother going home first before walking alongside her to school. You sit next to her in class for the first time, and you share the lunch you bought with her under the guise of ‘not being able to finish it.’ She’s resistant at first, but eventually, she indulges you. 

This routine continues for the next two years. It’s only interrupted when you break the news to her that your father is forcing the family to flee because of his growing debts. 

That night, you both walk back to the alley and lay there together under the stars.

You think you might’ve seen her eyes water once or twice, but you say nothing, unwilling to break the sacred silence between the two of you. It’s the last one you share for years, until you inevitably see her again in the worst possible place.

—

As everyone begins filing out to head to the next game, Se-mi feels an uncontrollable urge to break away from her current group to go find you once again. She can already see you in the distance, but even though the two of you make eye contact for a brief moment, you look away upon seeing her already large group. 

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she begins to turn away from the rambling of Thanos and Nam-gyu behind her, but a meek voice calls out her name and stops her.

“Where are you going?” 

It’s Min-su, and he’s looking at her like a lost animal terrified of losing its protector. A wave of guilt crashes into her at the thought of leaving this poor boy to the sharks, and even though your face is still the only thing on her mind, she wonders if it’s worth it to betray her new group. 

If she left now, she might not make it through this next game. 

If she dies now, she won’t get a second chance at life (and a second chance to live by your side again, but she pushes that thought to the side for now). 

“Nowhere, let’s go.”

That’s all it takes to appease him, and with one last glance over to where she saw you last, she reintegrates herself back into the group and moves forward. 

—

Even though the first two rounds pass by without a hitch, you think this game might be the most dangerous one yet. You’ve got your own little group from the Six-Legged Race, but as the announcer called for rooms of four, you watch the youngest girl of your team get shoved out of your group by two others (sisters, if you remembered correctly). It’s heartbreaking to hear her cry out as you all ran away, but you can’t save her and save yourself at the same time. 

You’ve made it this far, and you’d be damned if you were sent home an empty handed corpse now. 

As the platform begins to spin again, you pat the shoulder of the woman standing next to you - 047. She was closer to the younger one than you were, and her death obviously shook the poor lady up. Her reaction makes you realize how distant you’ve been to everyone since you arrived (with one notable exception, of course), and you find your own heart beating hard against your chest at the thought of being abandoned as well. 

“3 players.”

Of course.

For a second, the four of you freeze. The sisters are holding onto each other’s hands with a death grip, and you know now that it’s between you and 047. A part of you thinks about shoving her down so you could run away with the other two, but something behind her catches your eye before you can do anything.

It’s Se-mi. 

She’s standing completely alone, hand held out towards nobody, and not a single other person from that group you saw her with earlier by her side. 

Like it’s muscle memory, you shove past 047 and run the fastest you’ve ever ran right at her. You hear a faint yell of gratitude from behind you as you wrap your arms around Se-mi and pull her forward towards one of the empty rooms in the distance. The impact seems to wake her out of her stupor, changing your awkward position so that now, you’re running side by side with her hand in yours. Along the way, you grab a stray girl up from the ground by the back of her sweater and pull her along to complete the three. 

As you all clamber into the room, Se-mi slams the door shut behind you, barely missing the time-out buzzer. The lock clicks shut, and you hear gunfire outside, but she ignores all of it to turn around to look at you. This is the most emotional she’s looked since you’ve reunited, eyes downturned with sadness and a hint of fear at how close she was to death. 

Ignoring the girl repeatedly thanking you to your right, you walk up to Se-mi and pull her into a tight hug, relishing in the warmth of her body. 

“I’m glad I made it in time, 380.”

You feel her arms beginning to wrap around you before the lock clicks open, forcing you to pull apart to exit the room. Your hand doesn’t leave hers, and it’s a clear signal that you’ll be sticking by her side for the rest of this game.

Se-mi doesn’t even find herself searching the arena for Min-su and the others as you walk with her back to the platform, completely distracted by the tingling sensation in her hand as you interlace your fingers together. It’s a feeling that’s new to her, being chosen by someone in a manner like this; of course, she’s been desired before, maybe even loved (despite her inability to return the other person’s feelings), but this is different somehow. In this scenario, it’s you, not some random girl she met at a bar. It’s you choosing to risk your life to make sure she continues living, and in the wake of this realization, the feelings that she’s been shoving down for countless years come rushing back to her. 

As the next rounds pass by, you remain unchanging by her side. Even as the announcer calls for 2 players, you don’t even hesitate to pull her with you, leaving behind everyone you joined up with in the last couple rounds. 

Even after you run over the blood of countless others, you never let go of her hand, and she never lets go of yours.

—

“You really saved my ass back there.”

Here, back in the comfort of this familiar room, Se-mi has regained her usual joking nature, smirking at you as you nod, very clearly proud of yourself.

“Yes, I did. Maybe you should give me your share of the prize money for that,” you say, holding out your hand to her. She laughs and wraps her arm around your shoulder, walking you back over to the steps where you had your first conversation. 

“Maybe I will, or maybe I’ll pay for a couple meals together instead.” The innuendo isn’t lost on you, and your face goes red as she gets even cockier. “It’s time I pay for you for all those lunches, but dinner wouldn’t be so bad either.”

Your face is still turned away from her in embarrassment, but she can still see the blush on your cheeks, revelling in her own ability to make you fold. You mumble something under your breath, but she’s too focused on her victory to hear you. 

“What was that?”

“I said, you’ve already saved me plenty of times before, more times than you can count, so I should treat you first.” 

The warmth in her chest returns full force, and now, it’s her fighting to keep a blush off her face, lest you start embarrassing her about that too. She wonders, what would it be like to take you out on a proper date? She imagines you all dressed up, and in that moment, she decides what she wants to spend her prize money on first when you all leave this place. 

She wants to buy you flowers. She wants to take you to a nice, luxurious restaurant and show you off, then under the stars, she’ll ask you to be hers.

“Whatever you say, pretty lady.”

That earns her a smack on the arm and a scoff as your face starts burning once again (to Se-mi’s absolute delight). 

The moment is unfortunately interrupted by the main doors sliding open, and you watch as the pink guards file in. At the front table, two giant buttons lay waiting for the remaining contestants. Everyone around you begins to speak in hushed tones, obviously discussing their plans for the next vote. 

“Are you going to change your vote?” As you spin around to face her again, Se-mi gestures down at the blue patch on your chest. 

During your entire walk back, you had been contemplating your unchanging choice to stay and risk your life. For the majority of the first two days, you lived life believing there would be no consequences to your death. You wouldn’t lose anything - your life was already in immense danger outside this place, so your family wouldn’t be too surprised if you turned up dead either. There was nothing to lose and everything to gain, and so, O was the easy choice.

Then Se-mi walks back into your life and complicates the hell out of it. 

Now, you realize that if you vote to stay, you’re also voting for her to stay and risk her life. If either of you died here, you would be wasting this chance cast upon you to experience the world by her side.

“Yes, this should be enough money for my family to be able to live normally again.” 

She nods, and even though it looks like she’s still contemplating her decision, Se-mi made her choice as soon as you took her hand in the last game.

“Even if there were less money in the pig right now, I think I’d still pick to leave.” You smile softly at her and look her directly in the eye as you continue. “Being wealthy is a faraway dream, but for now, I just want to live in the company of those I love.” You squeeze her hand and hold your gaze, and this time, Se-mi isn’t able to hold back the blush that rushes onto her face.

If these games don’t take her out, you’ll really be the death of her.

—

As you silently eat what is hopefully your last meal in this place together, two groups of men clamber out of the bathroom. They’re bloodied and there’s a horrifying look of pure bloodlust on many of their faces, and you feel your heart drop. 

Would there be a fight tonight? Is that allowed?

Se-mi sees the fear on your face and gently rubs her thumb on the back of her hand. Despite her best efforts though, your concerns are not assuaged and you realize that getting shot by the pink guards might not be the only way you can die in this place. 

These people are hungry and hopeless, and you fully understand the lengths many would go through for a second chance.

“Se-mi, sleep with me tonight.” 

Her eyebrows raise and she smirks, but even this attempt to lighten the air with her usual humor doesn’t work, but still, she agrees immediately and you try to swallow the lump in your throat. You’re sure that no matter what happens, you won’t find sleep tonight, but that pales in comparison to your desire to protect Se-mi at all costs. 

You won’t leave this place without her. 

—

As the strobe lights turn on and off, your eyes bounce around the room as you search for somewhere, anywhere that might be free of the insane violence. Every way you look, there’s some sort of fight happening - that or you’ve just watched someone get brutally murdered in their own bed. For a second, you consider that you might be safe if you and her just stand still in your little corner, but a man rounds the corner and you feel yourself freeze up.

“Come here, you fucking traitor bitch!” It’s 124, and he looks like a rabid animal with red painted across his face and a bloody fork in his hand. In the back of your mind, you slap yourself for not keeping the utensil for self defense. 

Se-mi attempts to shove you further behind her as he begins charging at you two, but before you can even make a move, a glass bottle shatters at his feet. You all look up to see a young man that you don’t recognize, but from the rage on 124’s face, you figure he might’ve been one of his old teammates. 

In their distracted states, you rush forward, grabbing a shard of glass from the floor and swinging it right at the man’s head. Unfortunately for you, you still have absolutely no skills when it comes to fighting and he easily dodges the hit. It doesn’t feel like some slow motion action movie when you see his fork flying at your neck at full speed, but somehow, you’re fast enough to lift your hand so that it punctures right through your palm instead. You scream, and behind you, Se-mi calls your name as well. 

In an extremely painful rush of adrenaline, you maneuver his and your body to switch places, trusting Se-mi to take care of the rest. In the few flashes of light that you’re granted, you see her rush forward with her own shard of glass in hand, unforgivingly jabbing it right into the side of 124’s neck. 

“Fuck! Fucking bitch!” His scream pierces your ears as he finally lets you go, and you don’t waste the moment you get. Pulling his fork out of your hand, you slam it down into the side of his head with all your strength. 

A beat passes, then he falls to the ground unmoving. 

“Are you okay?! Let me see!” Se-mi rushes forward and takes you in her arms, dragging both of you backwards towards the wall as she inspected your injuries. In the rush that followed watching someone die by your own hands, you can barely feel the pain at all. All you can focus on is the woman in front of you and how afraid you were when 124 charged at her. 

“Se-mi - Se-mi, listen to me,” you choke you, using your bloody hands to gently hold her face. Her eyes are glossy with unshed tears, and you can see how much the encounter shook her to her core. “When we leave this place, promise me you’ll stay by my side.”

Your voice is desperate and you can feel your own tears rising, vision getting blurry as you struggle to wipe them off with the sleeve of your sweater. It looks like Se-mi barely heard your request with the way she was still scanning your body for any serious injuries. 

“What?! What are you-”

“Promise me! Please!” You’re openly sobbing now, holding onto the one thing keeping you moving in this world, and finally, she focuses her gaze back on your face. With a quiet voice, she finally responds to you with a shaky smile.

“How could I ever leave you?”

Her eyes are the most expressive they’ve been, filled with concern and what looks like love, the same love that you’ve held for her ever since you were 16. 

With trembling hands, she holds your face just as you hold hers and leans in, pressing her lips against yours. It’s not gentle - it’s more desperate if anything, but you feel like flying in that moment. As your legs slowly give out, she holds you carefully in her arms and lowers the both of you to the floor. 

Finally, as you begin to drown out the surrounding chaos, the world around you falls silent as well. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re back in that alleyway, finally at peace with the person you love the most.

When you open your eyes again, she’s still right there in front of you, and you’re the happiest you’ve been since the day you met.

—

A/N: PLOT MONSTER STRIKES AGAIN!!! anyways this was inspired by a cherry waves edit I saw of her on TikTok where she told min-su "I thought you wouldn't deceive me" so I had to give her a girl that she KNOWS would never deceive her... okay guys hope y'all enjoy and as always plz PLZ LMK WHAT U THINK!! I love interacting with y'all im serious... and for the no eul lovers I see u and I hear u... but its gonna be a bit till that one comes out cuz im about to start second semester college... hashtag NOT FUNNY ANYMORE

also im still playing around with the layout of my posts so if I keep doing different sht and it throws u off im so sorry LOL

[mikashisus]

ray idk anything about hsr or genshin so i can’t req for those unfortunately 💔 BUT you summoned me by including bllk in your list HEHEHE can i request smth for nagi?? i don’t really have any specific ideas though…maybe childhood friends 🤔 or anything you want really!!

sorry this is so unspecific i’ve never requested before 😔 but ilyyyy and congrats on 200 that’s amazing!!

— definitely not mira 👹

STITCH ME UP

synopsis: you didn’t consider nagi seishiro a friend at first. but now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

taglist. @pneumosia @pixelcafe-network @gl4di0lus ( join the taglist here! )

word count. 2.1k ( contents : semi angst, injuries, mc has a short temper )

notes. this has been sitting in my inbox since JULY IM SO SORRY MIRA 😭 but it's finally here!! there'll def be a part 2 bc this is so dogshit and i need to redeem myself with a second part. mira i look up to ur writing sm so u only deserve peak, and i promise u'll get it in part 2 queen 🙏 anyw um the title is in reference to the song “stitch me up” by set it off :))

header art by: @/Liiiiiiimsao ( twt )

The first time you met Nagi Seishiro, you were about to go into your first year of middle school, curled up on the side of the street struggling to wrap a bandage around your left arm. 

It was sunset then, and the world was quiet aside from the loud buzzing of cicadas and the occasional car passing by. 

Nagi had just left a tiny convenience store located on the edge of the street, his phone in his hands as he tapped away at the game he was currently fixated on. Knowing the way back home by heart, he began to walk in that direction, unaware of his surroundings. 

It was only when he tripped over something rather sturdy did he finally forcefully take his eyes off the device in his hand. His grip on his phone tightened. He was determined not to drop it and risk the screen cracking again. 

Not paying any mind to what he just tripped over, he sighed in relief that he did not drop his phone, and patted down his pants. 

“HEY!” 

A loud yell drew him from his stupor. He slowly turned, coming face to face with a scowl. He blinked at you for a few seconds, before he faced you properly and raised a brow. 

“Yes?” 

“Look where you’re going, asshole! You tripped over me!” You snapped, patience wearing thin.

His shoulders slumped. Now that you stood in front of him, you realized just how tall he actually was. He kind of looked like a third year. It made you all the more aggravated. You hated anyone that could look down on you like he was. 

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He shrugged, acting as if what just happened was not a big deal. “You have a bad mouth.” 

That was the last straw. Your fists clenched tightly, your nails digging into your skin as your eye twitched. You ignored the pain in your palms and challenged his stoic stare. 

“So what?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Is that a problem?” 

He shrugged again and looked down at his phone. “I don’t really care.” 

He got ready to leave, when he cast one last glance at you, and his eyes landed on the now bloody bandage that came undone from your arm. The longer he stared, the more he realized he'd seen you before. 

He racked his brain for answers, sifting through each memory to try and remember where he’d seen you. Meanwhile, you were silent, fidgety. You did not enjoy people staring at you. It made you anxious, like they were trying to challenge you in some way. 

This weird boy who you did not understand and you deemed an asshole for not watching where he walked made you feel quite nervous. You knew him from school. He was the boy who was exceptionally good at volleyball. 

You could remember how fascinated you were watching him play during gym class. He had all the talent you could only hope for, and the envy had bubbled up inside you, growing exponentially. Despite your envy, you quickly forgot about him after you no longer had to be in the same proximity as him, and you went about your life without thinking of him again. 

Until now. 

Nagi finally remembered where he had seen you. It was as if a lightbulb had suddenly appeared above his head, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were that one kid that liked to pick a fight with anyone taller than you. 

He first caught a glimpse of you in the nurse’s office when he had tripped outside during gym class and cut open his knee. As he was waiting for the nurse to return with gauze, he heard a commotion outside the office and saw your rather short form tackle a boy twice your size. 

With the strength of a lion tucked inside that small body of yours, you refused to give up the fight until the nurse came back and rushed out into the hall to separate the two of you. 

Nagi remembered watching your face fall in defeat when the nurse said to go to the principal’s office and that your parents would need to be called. 

“You’re that kid.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. “You like to pick fights with people.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he watched you deflate like a balloon right in front of him. Your face fell, and your arms dropped to your sides. He wondered what it was that made you so upset. Was it the reputation you had around the school? 

Just then, he saw the loose bandage on your arm completely come undone. It fell to the ground and pooled around your feet. Time stopped, and he stared in absolute horror at the mess of stitches on your arm. You did nothing to pick up the bandages. In fact, you barely moved. 

He would’ve thought you to be a statue if not for the slight twitching of your fingers. You tapped idly against your thigh, your eyes blank as you stared at the ground. He watched closely as your fingers danced in a certain rhythmic movement, and he soon realized you were tapping in morse code. 

S.O.S. 

He barely had time to register that it was morse code. His focus went back to the ghastly stitches on your arm. They looked as if they were done by someone with no experience whatsoever, but there was clearly an attempt. 

The wound itself did not look any better, and he wondered if you had even cleaned it all. He noticed a few other scars littered on your arm. They were smaller and less noticeable, but his intense stare had caught sight of them easily. 

“How’d you hurt yourself?” He questioned softly, unaware he had asked that out loud instead of inside his head. 

You did not answer. Not right away at least. With a heavy sigh, you collapsed back against the fence you were previously leaning on before he had tripped over you. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you muttered with a tinge of venom in your voice. “It was someone else… But no one ever believes me, so as far as anyone is concerned, I did this to myself.” 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Instead, he picked up the bandages you dropped, careful not to touch the parts covered in blood, and told you to wait here. 

Where would I even go? You thought. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. 

Within a few minutes, he was rushing out of the convenience store and across the street again, a pack of gauze and a water bottle in his hands. His phone was now tucked into his pants pocket. He kneeled down next to you and gently reached for your arm. 

“Did you try to stitch this up yourself?” 

He did not need an answer. He already knew it, though he felt the need to ask anyway. You nodded, so slight he almost missed it. He pulled a pair of scissors from the second plastic bag wrapped around his arm and carefully cut the string. 

With gentle hands, he removed the stitches to the best of his ability and dropped them onto the bandages from earlier. You tried your best not to move the whole time, but he could tell from your scrunched expression that you were in more than a bit of pain. 

He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle. “This might hurt.” He poured water over your wound, causing you to bite back a scream. 

“I don’t know how to do stitches, so…” He trailed off. “So I just got this.” He held up the gauze he bought and carefully wrapped up your arm. 

As soon as he was finished, he threw the gross bandages into the now empty plastic bag and glanced at you. Your brows were still furrowed and your lip was still tugged between your teeth. 

He stood up, taking a look at the sky. The sun was almost fully over the horizon by now, and he was likely late for dinner. He needed to leave now and get back home. As he turned to do just that, he almost missed the slight crack of your voice. 

“Thank you.” 

Were it not for the temporary silence of the cicadas, he would have missed your words entirely, and it would not have paved the way for your future with Nagi Seishiro. 

The next time you saw Nagi was in your second year of middle school. 

A white volleyball came flying out of the gym one day after school, narrowly missing his nose. It fell to the ground with a plop a foot away from him. Rushed footsteps sounded from behind him as he picked it up, and he could hear the yells of the volleyball team from the open doors of the gym. 

A familiar voice entered his ears. “I got it!” 

Moments later, you were rushing out of the gym doors, sweat lining your temple and your collarbone. An exhausted expression rested on your face, and fresh bandages were wrapped around the same arm he tended to a year prior. 

You stopped as you looked up at him, your eyes flashing with recognition as you took in the tall boy standing before you with your volleyball in his hands. You swallowed thickly, fiddling with the hem of your black t-shirt. 

He handed you the volleyball. “Here you go.” 

“…Thanks.” You hesitantly took it from his hands and hugged it to your stomach. You stared at him warily for a moment before turning around to head back into the gym. 

“You play volleyball?” He asked suddenly, shocking you as you were not expecting him to make small talk. 

You turned to face him again and nodded. “Yeah… My dad is a fan, so as soon as I was old enough to play, he signed me up for lessons,” You said. 

There was a pause, and he could tell by the awkward look in your eyes that you were debating on if you should share more or not. In the end, you caved. 

“I’m not that good. So I mainly just play because it’s fun.” You shrugged. "...I should get back to practice.” 

You left before he could get another word out. Later that day, when you were walking home from practice, you saw Nagi again— this time walking out of his house. His eyes met yours, and you both stared at one another in surprise. You lived in the same neighborhood. 

You never went as far as to consider that you and Nagi were friends. Not at first, at least. You never had friends— not after your reputation of being a short-tempered, fight-starter circulated around the school. Even your volleyball team was not a fan of you, despite the fact that you were surprisingly good when it came to teamwork. 

Everyone was inclined to stay away from you. Either out of fear or hatred, you weren’t sure. But as time passed, you came to accept being the loner who always ended up in the principal’s office. 

That was until Nagi offered you a can of soda after your failed attempt of getting the faulty vending machine to work. It was late in the afternoon on a Friday in Spring of your first year of high school. Up until that point, the two of you only interacted at odd times when you just so happened to come across each other in the halls or walking out of your houses. 

No words were ever shared between you, only slight nods of the head and small waves in greeting. Now, though, Nagi was taking a seat next to you on the staircase, placing a can of soda next to your foot. He pulled out his phone, loaded up a game, and handed it to you. 

“Wanna play?” 

You blinked at him in surprise, before nodding. You got past four levels in the game before dying, letting out a groan of frustration. He leaned over your shoulder, watching the screen intently. Occasionally, he’d chime in with a word of advice, or ask if you wanted him to do that level for you. You two sat there on that staircase for what felt like hours, before a staff member came and told you to leave. 

After that day, you would meet on the stairs everyday after your volleyball practices, playing that very same game together and attempting to outdo each other’s high scores. This routine continued, until one day you invited him to the park with you to play there. 

You didn’t consider Nagi Seishiro a friend at first. But now, you couldn’t imagine your days without him latched to your side.

© 2024 mikashisus.

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (3)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: You go to dinner at Wanda's apartment and you have a tension filled conversation about your wants and limits, and she lays down her rules for you.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, mentions of: edging, orgasm denial, bondage, wax play, temperature play, chastity, gagging, clothing control, praise, degradation, threesomes, role reversal, safewords, time control.

note: So this is the third instalment and I managed to bulk this chapter out, so finally everything begins in the next instalment. enjoy <3

The Art of Submission - Chapter 3

You sit alone in your apartment, the stillness of the room doing nothing to settle the arousal inside of you. The aftereffects of your time with Wanda cling to you like a second skin, every touch she left on your body burning like a golden tattoo, haunting the most sensitive parts of you. It’s impossible to focus on anything else, but her presence is everywhere. You hadn’t even dared go to your kitchen after the scene that played out in there the previous night. 

The memory of her fingers brushing your skin, the weight of her eyes on you, plays over and over in your mind. The way she took control so effortlessly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet, the thing eating you up inside was how quickly you surrendered to it, willingly offering yourself up with barely a second thought. It was like she made your body respond before your mind had a chance to catch up. 

You replay the moment continuously in your mind. The memory of her eyes, those captivating depths of emotion etched in your thoughts. You can almost see her now, the smile against her lips and the way her hair cascades in waves, framing her face perfectly. 

You try to shake it off, to distract yourself, but your thoughts keep looping back to those moments. You’re caught in the aftermath of her power over you and you can’t escape it. You don’t want to. Your phone sits beside you on the bed, a looming presence in the silence, as heavy as the tension in the air. You’re waiting. There’s a knot of dread in your stomach yet beneath it lingers an electric current of anticipation. You’re torn between desperately wanting to hear from her, and dreading what she might say. What more she could demand of you. 

Time drags on, but every second feels stretched, each one heavier than the last. You glance at your phone again, chewing your lip, fingers brushing over the screen as though you could summon a message from her. Then, at last, it buzzes. The screen lights up and there it is, a text from Wanda. 

You were even easier to break than I imagined, maybe I should take it easier on you next time.

 Dinner tonight, my place, 8pm.

W x 

Your breath hitches at the message, even her teasing over text could make your arousal pool between your legs and you felt so insanely vulnerable, a feeling that was driving you up the walls. You looked at the message again, but your eyes darted to the time. 6:30pm. Now your heart was racing, she’d barely given you any notice and you had no idea what to wear or how to prepare for this. 

You dart to your wardrobe, sifting through your options, fingers brushing over soft fabrics and cool textures, each piece pulling you in different directions. Part of you craves something casual, comfortable enough to ease the tension bubbling beneath your skin. However, another part yearns for something subtly alluring, a way to communicate your excitement. 

Your gaze lands on a sleek, short black dress hanging elegantly in the corner of the closet. It’s simple yet enticing, with its deep neckline and fitted silhouette that hugs your curves just right. The thought of slipping it on sends a thrill through you, the way it would accentuate your figure and showcase the confidence you’d failed to convey before. 

As you take the dress from the hanger, laying it out on your bed you recall the lingerie you recently bought. The image of the intricate patterns crafted from a soft and delicate scarlet lace dancing across your body sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You wonder if Wanda would appreciate the effort, if she’d see through the fabric. Would she smile that knowing smirk, her eyes sparkling with approval? 

The clock ticks steadily, each second a reminder of the approaching dinner. You can feel your nerves creeping up, coiling tighter around your neck. You rush to the mirror, brushing your hair away from your face, analysing every inch of your reflection. You change into both the lingerie and the dress, taking a deep breath to try and calm the fluttering in your stomach. 

As you step back, fully dressed and finally feeling the allure of the ensemble. The black dress hugs your body perfectly, the lace edging of your lingerie peeking through. You bundle your hair into a bun, pulling a few strands and purposefully messing the tight grip of the hairband so you look slightly unravelled already. You thread the silver hooped earrings through your lobes, matching it with a small pendant necklace, a small heart that sat against your chest. Finally, you add a touch of red lipstick to complete the look, imagining the insides of Wanda’s thighs painted in red kisses. 

With one more final look, you shake your head trying to get out of it before heading towards the door and crossing the hall. You approach her apartment door, your pulse beating loudly inside your head. With a deep breath, you knock on the door, the sound echoing softly in the dimly lit hallway. The moment stretches out, each second laden with expectation, until the door swings open, revealing Wanda with a radiant smile, quickly turning into a flushed and unexpected look. You looked completely different to how you’d been caught out last night, and finally you gained the satisfaction you’d been longing for. 

As you step into Wanda’s apartment, she takes a moment to assess your outfit, her eyes lingering appreciatively over your figure. A slow, sultry smile spreads across her lips and you notice the way her eyes familiarly darken. 

“Wow.” She breathes, leaning casually against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest. You feel your cheeks redden at the arch of her eyebrow and the way her bottom lip catches itself between her teeth. She was wearing a white silk blouse that gleams softly under the warm light, the fabric draping elegantly over her form. The buttons are casually undone, teasingly revealing a hint of her cleavage, drawing your gaze and setting your pulse racing. Her fitted black trousers hug her curves perfectly, accentuating the shape of her hips and the subtle arch of her ass which you couldn’t help but glance at as she walks past you. 

As Wanda welcomes you, her presence adds an extra layer of warmth to the space. The combination of her vibrant red hair and the sleek, modern furnishings creates an enticing contrast that draws you in further, making you feel both at home and a little breathless. The entire apartment radiates a sense of luxury and comfort, an ideal backdrop for the evening that lies ahead.

“You look incredible.” You say as Wanda grabs a bottle of wine from the rack on her kitchen counter, she turns her head over her shoulder, her eyes dropping from your lips all the way down to your ankles before reaching back up to meet your stare. 

“You want to be careful princess; I could get used to you dressing up like this.” The lust behind her voice wasn’t even disguised by flirtation anymore. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve made you dinner.” She leads you to the dining table, perfectly laid by Wanda, a few candles scattered atop the surface, plates of spaghetti bolognese already plated up and placed opposite each other. 

She follows you around the table, pulling out the chair for you before you reach to do it yourself. The soft clink of the plates only sound for a moment, the food smells incredible, but you mind it elsewhere. If you thought you were distracted before, now with Wanda sitting opposite you, there was no way you were going to be able to get through this dinner. 

Wanda takes a sip of wine, her eyes casually tracing over your face as she sets the glass down. “You seem distracted,” she says, her tone light but the smirk playing at her lips tells you she already knows why. Taking a bite of her food, Wanda doesn’t break eye contact, the intensity making it impossible for you to focus on your meal. She chews slowly, deliberately. “You’re still thinking about it.” she states, “How you crumbled so easily.” 

Her words hit you with the same impact as the moment itself and it’s like you’re right back there, on edge, waiting for her permission. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing coherent comes out at first. Wanda chuckles, a slow, indulgent sound, “I knew you would be,” She adds, eyes never leaving yours. 

You fidget slightly in your seat, feeling the flush rise in your cheeks. It’s like she can read your mind. You finally manage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about you.” 

Wanda’s smirk widens, her eyes darkening with satisfaction. She leans back in her chair, her posture relaced, but you can feel the control she has over the room, over you. “I thought so,” She murmurs, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “It’s written all over your face.” 

After a long, purposeful sip of her wine, Wanda finally sets the glass down and rests her hands on the table, her fingers lightly drumming against the wood. Her expression softens, but the intensity in her gaze remains. “I’ve done this before,” she admits, her tone shifting to something quieter, more serious. “But this isn’t just about me. This is going to be about what you want, your needs, your desires, and your limits.”

She lets the words hang between you for a moment, letting you absorb their weight. “I need to know what you want from this, what you’re ready to give, and what you can’t. Because if we’re going to do this... I need your full trust.”

You swallow hard, her words wrapping around you like a promise. There’s a steadiness in her voice that makes your pulse quicken—Wanda knows exactly what she’s doing, but she’s asking for your consent, your trust. You feel your heart race as you nod, realising just how much you want to give that trust to her.

Wanda leans forward slightly, her eyes locked with yours. “It’s important you understand that, no matter how far we go, you can always stop. That’s where the safeword comes in. And I’ll ask you to use the traffic light system,” she explains and even with the seriousness of the conversation you couldn’t help but feel how wet you were becoming. Her authoritative pose, the command in her voice, and you were her muse, she wanted to do this with you. 

Her gaze doesn’t waver as she continues. “So, tell me,” she says, her voice soft but unyielding, “what do you want, tonight? What’s your limit? What’s that one thing you want to explore?”

Your hands tremble slightly as you take a deep breath. You’ve thought about this moment for hours, but saying it out loud is different. You hesitate for a heartbeat too long, and Wanda’s eyes narrow slightly, a warning glint in them. “No holding back,” she murmurs, her voice dipping low. “Tell me what you want. All of it.”

The weight of the moment presses on you, but her calm gaze feels like a lifeline. You swallow nervously before nodding. “I want to explore everything,” you admit, voice low, but clear.

Wanda’s lips quirk up in a teasing smile. “Everything?” Her tone is soft, but there’s a sharpness beneath it. “Be specific for me.” She leans forward slightly, one elbow resting on the table, her chin perched on her hand, her eyes locked with yours.

You take a breath and dive in, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “Edging, I want to explore orgasm denial,” you say, each word feeling bolder than the last.

Wanda’s smile deepens. “Good,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass as her eyes darken slightly. “There’s nothing quite like having that power—to make you beg for it, only to hold you just on the edge, desperate.” She tilts her head, the teasing tone back in her voice. “You think you can handle being denied?”

You shift in your seat, the tension rising. “I... I want to try.”

Wanda’s gaze sharpens, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “I’ll enjoy testing your limits on that one.”

You take another deep breath. “Impact play,” you continue, barely believing you’re saying this out loud, but something about the way Wanda watches encourages you to continue. “Spanking, hair pulling, physical stimulation.”

Wanda’s eyes flash, and she bites her bottom lip slightly. She straightens up, her voice carrying an undercurrent of heat. “You like the idea of me making you feel it? Leaving a mark?” Her eyes flicker with excitement. “I’ll make sure you feel every moment of it. But it’ll be on my terms, at my pace.”

Her gaze lingers on you for a second, then, as if to emphasise her control, she casually reaches over and brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear, her fingers grazing your neck ever so lightly. The touch sends shivers through you.

“Bondage,” you say next, your voice softening. “I want to feel restrained.”

Wanda’s hand stills, her eyes locking onto yours. “I could tie you up, I have a lot of stuff I can use” she says, her voice dropping even lower, more deliberate. “Make you helpless. You won’t be able to move, won’t be able to stop me from doing whatever I want.” She leans forward, her voice a low purr. “How does that make you feel? Knowing you’ll have no control at all?”

Your pulse quickens as you nod, barely able to speak, and Wanda’s lips curl up in satisfaction, clearly enjoying your nervous excitement.

“Praise,” you continue, but your breath catches as you add, “and degradation.”

Wanda’s eyebrow arches, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before it’s quickly replaced by a pleased smirk. “Interesting,” she says, her voice laced with approval. “You want me to call you my good girl, shower you in praise for obeying me... but then you want me to turn around and tell you how desperate you are for it?” She leans closer, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous kind of delight. “I’ll give you both and you’ll love every second of it.”

Her words make your stomach flip with a mix of nerves and excitement, and you find yourself nodding again, almost breathless. You hesitate, but then add, “And breath play, I want to try that.”

Wanda’s smile falters for just a moment, replaced with a look of seriousness. She sits up straighter, her gaze sharp. “That’s a lot of trust you’re giving me,” she says, her voice more measured. “You know how dangerous that can be, right?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “I trust you.”

Her expression softens slightly, and she nods, her eyes never leaving yours. “Good girl, you’ll always be safe with me.”

You can feel your body trembling slightly as you push forward. “I want to try wax play, you know, temperature play.”

Wanda chuckles softly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “So you want me to drip hot wax on your skin... make you squirm beneath me as I play with the heat?” she asks, her voice low and teasing. “I can make sure you feel the contrast, the cold right after the burn.”

You shift in your seat, and finally admit, “I’m curious about chastity, and gagging.”

Wanda’s lips curve into a slow, satisfied smile. “Of course you are,” she says teasingly, her voice rich with approval. “I could make you wait, make you ache for days without any relief. And when you finally get it, you’ll be begging.” Her smile widens. “As for gagging... you’ll learn to communicate without words. But don’t worry, I'll understand exactly what you want.”

You nod, feeling your pulse quicken, the tension between you growing unbearable.

“And,” you add hesitantly, “what about involving other people?”

Wanda’s fingers tighten slightly around her wine glass, a flush creeping into her cheeks for the first time. Her eyes flicker with something unreadable, her smirk growing as her expression turns serious. “We’ll see,” she says, her voice softer now, her control wavering for just a moment. “We’ll talk about that when the time comes.”

You take a steadying breath, feeling the weight of the next words. “Role reversal,” you admit, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

Wanda’s smile falters for just a moment, surprise flickering in her eyes before she regains her composure. “You want to take control?” she muses, her voice low, almost considering. “Even just for a moment?” She pauses, her gaze sharpening. “I might allow it, if you earn it.”

Her reaction makes your heart race, a thrill running down your spine. Wanda is sitting completely back in her chair, her food resting on her chair, her arm crossed over her knee as she watches you spill everything that you wanted to do with her. She couldn’t deny how intrigued she was by your willingness to talk about everything, and be so vulnerable in her presence. 

“What about limits honey?” Wanda continues, knowing there can’t be much left that you hadn’t admitted you wanted to do. 

You look down, your heart racing. “I don’t really know my limits,” you confess quietly, “I just want to try everything. No blood, but everything else.”

For the first time, Wanda’s calm, teasing exterior falters. Her cheeks flush, and she squirms slightly in her seat, her fingers tightening around her glass. Her lips part as if to say something, but she pauses, taking a deep breath. “Everything?” she repeats, her voice lower, more breathless than before.

You nod, feeling a surge of confidence as you watch her try to maintain control.

Wanda’s eyes darken, and she leans in slightly, her voice soft but filled with promise. “I’ll make sure we explore everything... but remember,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a dangerous smile, “I decide when and how.”

Wanda leans back in her chair, her eyes locked on you, her tone steady but charged with authority. “First, let’s set some rules. For now, everything stays in this room.” She glances around the space, making the limits clear, her gaze landing back on you. “Whatever we explore, whatever we try, it stays between these walls. This is where you’re mine.”

You swallow, a nervous excitement building in your chest. “Just in here?” you ask softly, almost unsure, though something about the confinement feels safe.

Wanda nods, leaning forward slightly, the intensity in her eyes unwavering. “Yes. Just in here. I want to see how you handle things before we take it any further. Think of this room as our world. Here, I’m in control, and you” her lips quirk up into a teasing smile “you’ll follow my lead.”

Your pulse quickens at her words, and you can’t help but shift slightly in your seat. Wanda doesn’t miss it, her eyes narrowing with amusement as she continues.

“I’ll set a few ground rules.” Her voice is firm, and the weight of what she’s about to say lingers in the air. “First, you don’t touch yourself without my permission. You don’t come unless I say so. Understood?”

Your breath catches. The idea sends a shiver through you, and you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Understood.”

Wanda tilts her head, her gaze softening just slightly. “Good girl. You’ll ask for permission every time, and if you don’t, there will be consequences.” She pauses, her expression growing even more serious. “Do you understand the power I’m giving you here? You have control, too. If something is too much, you say ‘yellow’ or ‘red.’ I want you to be honest with me, always.”

“I will,” you murmur, feeling both nervous and reassured by the clear boundaries.

Wanda’s expression softens just slightly, her eyes narrowing as she explains, “There will be no hesitation or questioning when I give you a command,” She continues, her voice firm, “When I tell you to do something, you obey. No second guessing.” 

Your breath hitches as you take it all in, Wanda watches you closely, her fingers drumming softly on the table, waiting for you to confirm. 

“I understand,” You say, your voice soft but steady. 

Wanda has a playful glint in her eye. “When you’re here, I decide what you wear or if you wear anything at all. Sometimes you’ll be completely exposed to me, other times I might want to keep you dressed for my pleasure. But it’s never up to you. Understood?”

The thought sends a thrill through you, and you agree softly, “Yes.”

Wanda’s smile turns darker. “Time is mine to control. I’ll decide when we’re done, not you. You won’t be allowed to leave until I say so. Whether you’re pleading for more or begging me to stop, the final decision is mine.”

You feel a knot tighten in your stomach, the mixture of anticipation and submission making your skin prickle. “Okay.”

“And finally,” Wanda leans back in her chair, her eyes smouldering as she watches your every move, “you’re not allowed to touch me unless I allow it. You want to touch me? You ask first, and only if I give you permission do you get to. There will be no crossing boundaries I haven’t set.”

She watches you carefully, waiting for the weight of her words to sink in. The idea of not being allowed to touch her unless she says so makes your heart race.

You swallow, feeling a flush creep over your skin as you whisper, “I understand.”

Wanda watches you for a moment, satisfied with your responses. “Do you think you can handle all of that?” she asks, her tone teasing but with a dangerous edge.

You meet her gaze, the air between you crackling with unspoken energy. “Yes.”

Wanda’s smile deepens, and she leans back, clearly enjoying how easily you’re falling into place. “Good. Then we’ll see just how well you follow those rules, won’t we?” At this point, the carefully made dinner had been completely disregarded. Both of you having a handful of mouthfuls between you, your wine basically untouched. You needed her and she wanted you, there was no way you were going to continue eating after that conversation. 

Wanda leans back in her chair, her eyes flickering over you like she’s considering her next move. The soft glow of the lamps casts long shadows over her face, making her look both dangerous and mesmerising. “Come here,” she says, the command laced with promise. The air in the room feels thicker, like it’s holding a collective breath. You stand, and your legs feel unsteady, but you obey, moving toward her.

Wanda doesn’t touch you yet. She just looks up at you, her lips curling into that knowing smile. “You’re going to wait,” she murmurs, her voice like silk wrapping around your nerves. “You don’t get what you want right away. Not here.”

Wanda's eyes never leave you as she sits perfectly still, just watching you. The silence between you is deafening, but it speaks volumes. Her gaze drops down, flicking over your body as though she's calculating every inch. It makes your skin feel hypersensitive, like she’s already touching you without laying a hand on you yet.

“Strip,” she says, the word so calm yet utterly commanding. Your heart pounds at the simple instruction, and your fingers fumble as you reach to unzip your dress, but you can’t quite reach the zip. You turn your back and Wanda takes the zip between her fingers, slowly unzipping the length of the dress, revealing more of the scarlet laced lingerie that you picked for this moment. As you turn back to face her before pulling the lengths of the dress down, she leans further back in her chair, sucking her tongue against her teeth as you reveal your figure tied in lace. 

“You’re learning, already,” she says, almost purring. “This is gorgeous, all for me hm?” You nod, instead of being the same levels of shy that you thought you’d be, you found confidence in your willing submission to the redhead. “What do you want to explore first, let’s start as easy as you want to.”

You hesitate, feeling a rush of nervous energy at the thought of saying it out loud. Wanda catches it immediately, her eyebrow lifting. “Don’t hesitate,” she says, her voice sharper now. “If you want me to give you what you crave, you’re going to have to ask for it. Say it.”

Your breath quickens, and you meet her eyes, knowing there’s no way out but forward. "I want you to make me wait," you say with an unexpected amount of confidence. 

Wanda’s smirk deepens, her approval radiating from her. “Good. You’re finally starting to listen. But not just that.” She stands now, slow and deliberate, stepping toward you, close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from her body.

She’s not touching you yet, but it’s like she doesn’t need to. She leans in close, her lips brushing your ear as she speaks, “You don’t get to come unless I give you permission. I’m going to take you to the edge, and you’re going to beg for it. If you do it right, maybe I’ll let you have it.”

Wanda’s fingertips graze your shoulder, and the lightest contact sends a shiver racing down your spine. She moves behind you, slowly circling like a predator, her touch just skimming your skin, enough to make your breath catch but not enough to satisfy the ache building inside of you.

“You’re already shaking,” Wanda whispers, her breath warm against the back of your neck. “And I haven’t even started.”

Your pulse races, heat spreading through you like wildfire as she steps back in front of you, her eyes dark and commanding. Wanda steps back, her eyes glittering with satisfaction. “On your knees,” she orders, and you drop immediately, your heart pounding in anticipation. She stands over you, looking down, clearly in complete control.

“You’re going to be good for me,” she murmurs, her voice firm but laced with a dangerous softness. “And remember, you only come when I say you can.”

Your breath hitches as you nod, your skin burning under her intense gaze. She smirks, the power in her stare making you feel like you’re already completely hers. “Good,” she says. “Now, let’s see how well you really listen.”

[giuseppe-yuki]

spoiled

fernando alonso x cocker spaniel shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 2k

warnings: one curse word

part my of shapeshifting!reader series

summary: as nando's precious cocker spaniel, you are spoiled rotten.

picture credits from pinterest :)

*side note- it has come to my attention that the cute puppy in the header is actually a king charles spaniel, not a cocker spaniel, so i apologize for that one. my headers are mainly used for aesthetic purposes, so feel free to imagine yourself as either breed :)

the word “no” was practically nonexistent when you were with nando. 

you want another birkin to go in your collection? here, have three. you felt like pizza for dinner? sure thing. pizza freshly made in italy is being flown in right now. wow, that baby pink aston sure is cute, isn’t it? here’s the keys to a brand new, custom made, db9 that has matching pink heart tire rims. 

it seemed like fernando’s singular goal in life as your boyfriend was simply to pamper and spoil you. when he found out your shapeshifting abilities, he became ecstatic. even more ways to spoil you! 

that’s how you found yourself sat on his lap, twin pink bows tied on each of your ears, inside of the aston martin meeting. mike krack was currently yapping about tire degradation and management, repeatedly smacking a labeled graph with his pointer stick. you usually didn’t accompany your boyfriend to these types of meetings, but you felt particularly clingy today, and who was he to deny your request? ignoring the bewildered looks of the engineers on the spinny chairs around you both, he leans down, presses a kiss to your head, and then combs his fingers through your freshly washed fur, making you sigh in contentment. 

however, mike’s loud voice snaps you out of your thoughts. 

”fernando!” he shouts across the long table, stopping his long spiel. “are you even listening, or are you paying all your attention to your dog?”

all the engineers at the table turn towards fernando, giving him quizzical looks at the canine in his lap. (except for lance, who looked bored beyond his mind picking at his fingernails) he simply just shrugs, still petting you. “eh, what can i say? she’s kind of high maintenance.” 

the aston martin team principal rubs his face in annoyance, but picks up his pointer stick and continues on with his presentation. 

he only gets in a minute of talking before loud knocking echos throughout the meeting room. curious, you hop off of fernando’s lap and pad towards the door. 

“what is it now?” the irritated team principal exclaims exasperatedly. 

the door swings open, almost hitting you, to reveal a rather disgruntled-looking delivery man holding a clipboard that looked like it had a book’s worth of papers clipped to it. you flee back towards your boyfriend in fear. 

“fernando…alonso?” the deliveryman asks, squinting his eyes at the name printed on the top-most paper. when he receives a nod of confirmation, he continues,”i have some deliveries for you, and this stack of papers you have to sign that make sure you have received the parcels.” he then thrusts the board out to nando. 

while your boyfriend sifts through each paper, hastily scribbling his name on each dotted line, the delivery man peers around the room in shock, as if he just noticed the handful of engineers and moderately pissed team principal standing in front of him. the man’s bored demeanor shifts to a more panicked one. “i - um- is this a bad time? should i come back later?” he stutters out, shifting nervously. 

mike crack starts, “obviou-” before being cut off by fernando.

“no, right now is fine- it would be great if you could set up my purchases in my garage as well,” your boyfriend says, ignoring mike’s glare at the back of his head. 

with a jaw-dropping two championships in his racing history, who was anyone to refuse fernando? mike had no choice but to begrudgingly end the meeting short and send the engineers away to analyze the new racing data. 

meanwhile, you sat prettily in the corner of nando’s garage. and no- not at one of the dirty sweat-stained barstools in the garage- your boyfriend would never let you stain your soft fur like that. no, you sat in a plush white satin dog bed in your special curtained off area. 

under fernando’s instructions, a swarm of deliverymen bat away your pale lacy curtains and filter in like a line of ants, one after another. they place box after box on the carpeted floor of your little area. it creates a glimmering tower of designer jewelry boxes and prim monogrammed paper bags. 

after they exit the premises, fernando kneels down onto one knee and wraps you into a tight hug. “you enjoy your gifts, mi princesa!” he points to the sunny outdoors. “i’ll just be outside, overseeing the builders making the new air-conditioned mini house for you, okay?” 

you wag your tail at him, and give him a kiss (lick) on the cheek as a thank-you. 

the second fernando exits the room, lance’s girlfriend pokes her head through the sheer curtains separating your corner from the rest of the garage. 

“hellooooo!” she giggles. “now what do we have here?” 

looking over the pile of assorted bags and boxes on the floor, she pokes a green patterned bag labeled, ‘gucci.’

she jumps giddily after seeing several other matching shopping bags. “i saw the deliverymen come in with fernando’s order, and i was wondering i could-”

you shift to your human form before she can finish her sentence.

“yeah, i guess you can help me open them…” you sigh, rolling your eyes in fake annoyance. 

lance’s girlfriend squeals in glee before ripping open a dior bag. 

“how about this one?” you question, twirling around in your bedroom a haute couture babydoll dress. 

from his position on the bed, wedged in between the plush pillows, your boyfriend rakes his eyes across your body appreciatively and pretends to think for a second. 

“i think-” he pauses for a grand effect- “it looks absolutely beautiful on you, mi amor.” 

even though he compliments you everyday, it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks heat up wherever you hear his praise. 

“why, thank you, nando!” you say, flashing a smile at him.

ducking behind the changing room divider, you slip on a more skimpy stirling green pajama set that lance’s girlfriend had somehow pulled from the stack of clothes earlier in the day.

you can practically hear nando’s jaw hit the floor when you daintily step out from behind the divider, hands shyly held together behind your back. 

“i’m guessing you like this one?” you joke, watching him blink back at you with an awestruck look. tiptoeing over a pile of clothes strewn on the ground and the pieces of expensive jewelry in various boxes, you run over to nando’s figure on the bed and prance onto his lap. 

face inches away from his, you take your hand and physically shut his gaping mouth. 

“speechless, huh?” you tease, tittering. 

fernando looks at you, the pajama set draped over you perfectly (why would it not? he had it custom designed to fit you), new van cleef necklaces hanging from your neck, and celine bangles adjourning your wrists, and he can’t help but think all the money he spent for you was worth it. 

his hazel eyes sparkle with adoration. “what can i say, mi amor? you take my breath away.”

you bat at his chest, giggling, before climbing off his lap and tucking yourself in next to him. like an automatic response, he protectively wraps his arm around you tucks your head into the crook between his neck and his shoulder. 

the twinkling stars, crickets chirping, and warmth of fernando’s body quickly lull you to sleep, but before you drift off, you place a soft kiss on your boyfriend’s stubbled jaw.

“thank you for all the gifts, nando. you’re way too good to me.” 

the next morning, you woke up early to drive to the paddock with fernando. it was race day, one of your favorite days to watch your boyfriend on the track. but, that also meant the swarm of celebrities, media, and fans of all ages that might step on your tail or ruin your little pink bows with their grimy hands. your ever so observant boyfriend took note of this right away and tucked you safely in between his arm and his body in your cocker spaniel form before a speck of dirt from the floor could touch you.

he doesn’t let you down until he arrives in his garage.

along with a couple of engineers, lance and his girlfriend are in there too. lance waves a polite hello to you and his older teammate, while his girlfriend shuffles over. she flashes a shy smile at your boyfriend before opening her mouth. 

“could you please tell your *ahem* girlfriend-“ she gestures to you in his arms- “thank you for letting me open all those gifts with her yesterday. it was really fun!” 

fernando lets out a chortle before nodding, “of course.” 

you let out a bark, as if saying no problem, and give her outstretched hand a lick. 

after your boyfriend peels away from you to go suit up with lance, you and lance’s girlfriend scamper back into your little sectioned off corner in the back of nando’s garage. you both sprawl yourselves on your satin white mini couch to wait for the the start of the race. you had to admit, having a boyfriend that spoiled you rotten was kind of nice. before you can get comfortable, however, the girl next to you practically launches herself off the couch.

“oww!” she yells, clutching her back. “what the actual fuck is that?”

you tilt you head in question, before you spot the offending material on the couch.

it was a swarovski diamond-lined dog collar with alternating green emeralds (you knew the possessive side of nando purposely put that in there to show what team you were rooting for). you laugh internally, before gingerly clutching it in your sharp canines and picking it off of the other side of the couch.

lance’s girlfriend shoots a playful glare at you. “wow…i literally helped you rip open all those boxes yesterday, and this is how you repay me? by nearly stabbing me to death with those ridiculously sharp gems?”

you roll your eyes, but give her a bark to apologize. jumping off the couch, you gently place the collar in front of her. knowing your intent, she bends down and fastens it on your neck, but not before exaggeratedly groaning and clutching her back as she knelt down.

in front of the full size mirror propped against the wall, you admire the way the collar glimmers like stars on your neck. then, the girl in front of you comes up with an idea. 

“hey! we should go show max’s girlfriend your sparkly new jewelry!”

max’s girlfriend is nowhere to be found when you arrive in the redbull garage. ignoring the redbull engineers’ weird looks, you pad through in your aston martin colors with lance’s girlfriend by your side. still, you are unable to locate the girl you had in mind. 

lance’s girlfriend shrugs. “that’s so weird! i wonder if she is still in his driver’s room or something?”

you tilt your head in confusion. she shouldn’t be, as the race was starting soon, so max must be in the garage! making up your mind to find max’s girlfriend, you pad over to the highest object next to you- max’s car. without thinking, you jump up onto the drs flap the back in order to have a higher vantage point. you only realize your grave error when lance’s girlfriend looks at you with wide eyes and nearby engineers let out gasps of shock. 

as if it couldn’t get worse, max walks into the garage with his girlfriend in tow. he scrunches his eyebrows when he sees you on his car. pointing at you he lets out a shout.

“hey! what is fernando’s cocker spaniel doing on my car? call fernando and tell him that’s a €50,000 fine!”

when fernando comes over to the red bull garage to collect you, you bow your head in shame, fully expecting him to chastise you, but instead he holds you close and laughs. leaning close to your ear, he whispers, “good job, baby! i know max will never fine me for you touching his car- his girlfriend would never let him. next time, collect more info on his steering wheel setup and rear wing…they’ll never catch you!”

a/n: jk! one last fic for the current grid :)

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary 

@mbappebby @madkohi @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks

[chukys-mouthguard]

fluffy rare moment of peace w chucky post scf pls?

done dreaming

750 words

genre: fluff

featuring: matthew tkachuk x female reader

request: yes

The sound of the front door closing awoke you from your much needed slumber. Rolling over you checked the time.

4:45am

To be honest you expected him to stay out later, or possibly not even come home. This night being the most amazing night in his life. Your boyfriend was now a Stanley Cup Champion.

Saying that still didn’t seem real. You felt like you needed to pinch yourself every few minutes, the image of him hoisting the cup not leaving your mind. The pure joy he felt, seeing his family embrace him and the love you felt on the ice among them. It was a day you’d never forget.

Throwing back the covers, you pulled on one of Matt’s t-shirts, heading to find him off somewhere in the house. Wondering why he hadn’t come into bed.

As you peeked your head into the living room, you saw Matt sitting on the couch. His back facing you as you heard him watching back different videos, surely from the eventful night he’d had. An occasional chuckle leaving his lips, a smile on yours as you made your way over to him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck as you rested your head on his shoulder, smiling at the photo of him and his dad with the cup that was currently on his phone.

“I’m so proud of you babe.”

His hand rested on your forearm, thumb tracing over your skin as he smiled to himself. A sigh leaving his lips as you could tell he was getting emotional. His breathing getting shaky as he tried holding in his tears.

Quickly moving around the couch to join him, you wrapped him in a hug. Matthew crying into your chest as he threw his arms around you. Your hands entangled in his curls as you held him, not saying anything, giving him the time to finally feel all the emotions. Letting him process how his life had changed in the span of a few hours.

“I’m sorry.”

He chuckled as he pulled away from you, wiping his eyes as he sniffled.

“Don’t be sorry, you’re allowed to be emotional. You just won the Stanley Cup babe. Hell I cried for an hour earlier while you were gone. It’s such an amazing thing, and you worked so hard for this moment! Think back to last year, a broken fucking sternum, and you still went out there and worked your ass off. It all paid off for you baby, and I am so proud of you.”

Your hand caressed his cheek as he smiled at you, tears welling in his eyes again as he hung on your every word. Your compliments his favorite thing on earth, he’d listen to you speak those words to him on a loop all day.

“Well, it took a village to get here. And, you honestly played such a big part in this.”

“Me? No way!”

You brushed your hair behind your ear as his hands rested on the skin of your thighs. His smile making you blush as you shyly looked to the floor.

“Yes you. The sacrifices you make to be with me, it’s not easy. But you’ve never left my side. And I know there’s been times where I could be an asshole. Hard to deal with for sure. And, fuck last season with the broken sternum. You’re the one who got me out of bed, got me moving. Kept me going on the days I didn’t think I had it in me. You do so much for me everyday, this win is yours too babe.”

His hand moved to your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss. You could feel the love he had for you, through his words and his touch.

“I love you so much Matthew.”

His forehead resting on yours as he kissed your nose.

“I love you too baby.”

The two of you staying on the couch for a little while longer, sifting through the photos and videos to savor the moment even more.

Before you knew it Matthew was sound asleep on your chest, his phone falling out of his hand as his soft snores were the only sound in the room.

Knowing he needed his sleep you’d grabbed the blanket that was draped over the couch. Covering the two of you before you curled up next to him. Drifting off to sleep relieved, as the dream you two had been hoping for, was finally now a reality.

[firelightmlpoc]

I recently received a DM from a fellow who was a junior mod in the Shipping Container server, & they’ve been gracious enough to allow me to use their words on the current happenings, covering the events of the 0303Emily internal happenings of the server at that time.

Now, you may wonder why exactly I’m bringing up the 0303Emily debacle, much less in association with Pansear?

Well, besides the fact that the accusations leveled against 0303Emily are baseless themselves (One example of why at the bottom of this post, completely ignoring the fact that Azriel was only a month or 2 away from being 18 at the time of the accusation while 0303Emily was just 20.), they indicate a trend between both accusations that further shows minimal actual PROOF & deliberate misinterpretations of situations to then twist things into a more negative light.

Now, the statement from the junior mod:

“first off, sorry this isnt really that well worded. i dont even know where to start with all this. i wanted to offer my view on things from the internals of the SC server and some info that might explain the origins of all this. ive wanted to talk about this for a while but im not a very confrontational person and i didnt even have a tumblr or twitter

i was a helper (basically junior mod that had bare mininum perms) on SC during the entire event, and while I did not participate in the decision because it was really complex and i was busy with finals but i did lurk the convo and read a lot of it. i dont have any screenshots of this because i left a few weeks later after the entire mod team basically dissolved and the server lost all its users.

basically a while back before the grooming accusations some kids (like under 18) on the server were going around looking up artists on furaffnity, e621, and other nsfw websites and then reporting it to the mods of SC and i think mainworld too. the mods were pretty "this isnt really our business" about it and told the kids to stop snooping, and that was the end of it.

a few months later still before the grooming the issue resurfaced with the same users going after nsfw artists, they were again told to mind their business but a few weeks later came back with the grooming accusations on top of it. the key thing here is that the mod issue was heavily centered around the nsfw art that emily had been making, along with several other users who were in nsfw servers that these kids had joined to snoop around. they logged thousands of messages from multiple users and sifted through them looking for anything that could be added to this report.

again i just want to emphasize that this was not at all about Emily and Azriel at this time. The entire report was about NSFW people were doing in private NSFW sites and places that the kids had to lie and sneak into because they were LOOKING for dirt on these people. It was not just emily but around a dozen users in our server that had been perfectly fine up until this point.

there was a lot of delay with getting this report finalized and the grooming accusation came later. however given the context this seemed to raise a few red flags for the staff because the accusors had been so intense about their search for info and the fact that the conversation between them was months prior, there was some question of if the accusors had coached or otherwise convicned azriel about them being groomed just to get more dirt on emily.

Well the SC mods were tired of the NSFW artists being reported and considering the number of people being reported (again, more than just emily) and the methods the accusors had taken, decided that this was basically tantamount to stalking and kicked everyone involved.

What you see on tumblr is the response to that. They went and said "SC is run by groomer zoophiles" and everyone who had a hate boner for pansear jumped on board and it went nuclear.

I dont really know if this helps but i am just tired of sitting here being unable to speak about it because i dont have a following and i really miss pansear.”

I want to further emphasize this part:

“again i just want to emphasize that this was not at all about Emily and Azriel at this time. The entire report was about NSFW people were doing in private NSFW sites and places that the kids had to lie and sneak into because they were LOOKING for dirt on these people. It was not just emily but around a dozen users in our server that had been perfectly fine up until this point.”

Minors actively invaded adult-spaces, willingly & ACTIVELY exposed themselves to adult content EXPLICITLY to ‘dig up dirt.’

So, with that in mind, why would they stop at that? Why would they stop at something so trivial as faking screenshots? Multiple members have actively made threats to people accused & they care not about spreading a falsehood (Just look at Pansear’s old Tumblr handle!).

And here’s the example I said I’d give earlier. Azriel starts the conversation with mention of the horrors of some NSFW content from the fandom & then gives an example. 0303Emily follows up with a shared experience. This is some of the ‘proof’ that was presented in the doc Azriel & Co. put forth.

This doesn’t even mention any of the other discrepancies in their own ‘proof.’ The ‘Zoophilia’ allegations are once again Anthro on Anthro characters engaging in sexual acts, just like the allegation against Pansear.

Don’t believe me? Their own google doc is right here on this chap’s post. Read through it.

And if you want to read more, read this. It further emphasizes on this matter.

[damagedintellect]

Alpha Fyodor x Omega Fem!Reader

💌 The Poetic Nature of the DOA Novelist: Chapter 1?  💌  

Summary:  You were hired as the DOA's novelist, usually Nikolai is your heat partner but sometimes Fyodor takes advantage of the fact that you are an omega

Notes:  I'm drunk and on my period there's not enough omegaverse for me to consume so fuck I gotta wrtie me own ughhhh why caan;t my fingers hit the right letters.m I'll fix it when I'm sober. Sober me here fuck it I'm gonna keep it, I just can't be bothered

Fem!Omega reader bc it's self indulgent 🍋

💌 Word count: 2,540 💌  You are here | Chapter 2??? idk durnk me wants a part 2 but w/Nikolai 🍋

Your mind has been foggy all day and only seems to be getting worse by the hour. You’ve been staring blankly at the pen in your hands, unable to focus on finishing your current sentence. Last night you thought it was a fever but looking at the calendar you groaned. That's when the realization hits you, your heat came early and that's why you feel so out of it. You step into the hallway knocking on Nikolai's door. No response, there's a good chance the alpha was out. You pressed your head against the door.

This wasn't good.

You tried jiggling the knob but it was locked and there was no key, only Nikolai could open the door. You've tried to pick the lock before it doesn't work. That's what you hated the most. All you wanted was to make your nest but Nikolai hates when others go snooping through his things. Which was fair even though Fyodor and Sigma both respect each other's personal boundaries but Nikolai is Nikolai you supposed. Thinking about it, the alpha in question was the only one who has ever sifted through everyone's personal belongings. Besides the point without his body or even his scent you were starting to suffer. The curse of being an unmated omega.

You sniff the air trying to see if anyone else was around who would know when he'd be back. To your dismay it seems only Fyodor is here at the base. Go figure. Outside of recruitment you've never seen Fukichi or Bram around and now that Sigma has his casino to run, this has been the case more often than not. You hobble over to his door which was already open. He must not be busy at the moment otherwise he wouldn't let the others openly pester him. You knocked at the entrance before letting yourself in as he was typing away at his computer.

"I assume you're not that busy right now?" You glanced at his twelve monitors, unable to comprehend the mess displayed across the screens.

"Correct." He glanced over his shoulder "I assume your heat came early?"

"Correct. Can I sit in your lap until Nikolai gets back? I would ask for your blanket or pillow or something but I already know it wouldn't smell like alpha." He doesn't sleep in them most nights so why would they. Sure you could have asked for his ushanka but he wasn't wearing it strangely enough. You liked when he didn’t have his hat. His hair was beautiful. You want to run your fingers through it, maybe even braid it like Nikolai’s.

The alpha smirked, motioning you to take your seat. He must have planned this. There's a good chance he just sent Nikolai off to make you desperate. Normally Nikolai's schedule works around your heats perfectly and Fyodor's in charge of planning the timeline of events. What an asshole. It's a shame he's the only one who can help you right now. Honestly you want to be mad but your inner omega has a thing for this bastard.

You situated yourself so that you were facing Fyodor. He even went as far to lower his chair to help you get into his lap. Once comfortable you nuzzled into his neck breathing him in. Just the scent of the alpha alone was already making the dull ache dissipate. You were safe and protected and even though you know you were never in any danger your body needed the confirmation. Secondary genders suck.

When you were recruited as the novelist for the DOA Fyodor was quick to make it known he had no interest in helping with your heats but after Nikolai volunteered to be your heat partner you noticed Fyodor's almost taken aback expression. Then Fyodor's rut hit when you were the only one around. Which at the time was odd but thinking back surely he planned that too. He cornered you, had his way with you and you would hate to admit it but you liked it. You liked it a lot and that's a horrible thing to admit. You would have never expected to have a thing for the russian. It’s not like you were even an acquaintance, nor was he someone you despised. You were just here for the job and by technicalities he was your employer. 

Fyodor was always cold and distant until he needed something, which from you was very rare. You could even say he seemed kind of bored and aloof until you got him talking about his master plans but even then he kept the details to a minimum. However after being forced to spend his rut with him your view of Fyodor started shifting. There was something about how assertive he was yet uncharacteristically affectionate towards you that left you in awe. It was like you were pulling back the curtain ever so slightly to see that there really was a human behind the facade. That and his scent drove you crazy as is and it's extremely subtle, so subtle that you can't even smell it half the time. 

The moment he was consciously himself again, he smiled wickedly or rather you think deranged would be a better word. He kicked you to the curb without any acknowledgment of what possessed him to have such poor planning. This has repeated for a few cycles at this point and things didn't add up. You were used to his hot cold demeanor by now but you still don't understand why he makes a big deal out of it. Actually scratch that you knew it's because it bothered him that his secondary gender takes control of his actions. He doesn't take any blockers or suppressants, apparently for religious reasons, but still. He holds great disdain for the fact that no matter how he feels about you deep down there will always be that innate instinct to take care of you simply because you're an unmated omega.

At the end of the day you don't care who fucks your brains out but Fyodor likes playing with his food. Which is why you wish Nikolai would come back already. Your hole ached to be filled. Nikolai teases you but he always makes sure you are taken care of. He was the best alpha of the DOA in your opinion. The two of you had such instant chemistry and you talk about it often enough. Honestly you don't know why he doesn't just claim you now but that's Nikolai for you. He likes his freedom and you can admire that. A man who sticks to his philosophy. Fyodor confuses you because he says one thing but will do another. Like right now, providing his scent to comfort you.

You slowly rocked your hips into Fyodor whimpering pathetically. You could  practically hear the grin as he hummed. You took another deep breath of the alpha's scent. You would kill for him to scent you right now. You'd kill for anyone to scent you right now. Your movement grinds to a halt when his fingers dig into your side. 

"Enough of that, continue and lose your scent privilege."

Had you been in your right mind you would have laughed. You didn't know you had scent privileges. That would sound a lot like helping with your heat. Part of you hopes you'll remember this when your heat is over so you could throw it in his face. Instead you begged and moaned under his touch.

"P-please, just let me warm you until Nikolai gets back. Being filled is enough. I can't think straight. Everything hurts."

The sentence was shaky at best but you felt him twitch between your legs. He was already mostly hard from your lazy attempt at relief. You didn't even expect him to answer your half drunken rambling when he sighed.

"Fine, if you wish to fuck yourself silly than be my guest but I offer no further assistance."

His tone was as uninterested as usual but it sent shivers down your spine as you fumble with his pants to set his cock free. His expression was neutral but there was a sharpness to his features that was undeniable. For the first time since entering the room his eyes were glued on you as you hastily situated your own clothes and aligned yourself, sinking down on his inches. You were twitching and holding back moans as you bottomed out. Instant relief and pleasure flooded your senses. The sensation of feeling full was so divine. You stayed there panting into Fyodor's neck refusing to move. You prayed that this would be enough. The last thing you want to do is beg him for help.

You gasped, biting the back of your hand as you felt him twitch inside you. You clenched around him involuntarily feeling a wave of pleasure wrack through your body. You were drooling at the fullness while gripping his shoulders tightly. He technically gave you permission to move but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Although your head was screaming at you otherwise. His scent was growing stronger, it had you reeling almost like he was urging you to help yourself. To be a good little omega. 

To be, his, good little omega. 

With that in mind you slowly rolled your hips choking on a moan as your body twitched around him again. The angle he was able to hit like this was driving you mad. Why have you never done this before? You would have to make a note of this for later. You’ve fooled around with Nikolai quite a bit so why have you never fucked on a chair? With how sensitive you were in heat you could cum just like this. It took all of your strength to lift yourself up enough to sink back down completely. He was just long enough to brush past the right spot to make your legs feel like jelly.

True to his word he did not help you although his hand found itself around your waist. Probably to make sure you didn't fall out of the chair. Your body was spasming in pleasure to the point where your thighs were shaking an awful lot and you have yet to cum. The sheer idea of being bred was enough to satisfy that urge. It felt so good you might even pass out. The more you inhaled his scent the further your mind slipped into heat. You were too busy chasing that high you hadn’t noticed the low grunts and panting in your ear. If you took the time to observe Fyodor you would have seen just how disheveled his demeanor had become.

 A thin layer of sweat plastered his bangs to his forehead. He stopped typing ages ago but he still managed to maneuver the mouse around, doing who knows what. His breathing had become ragged when you started moving and the grip on your waist had tightened. You hoped it would leave marks for Nikolai to see. His eyes jumped back and forth from his monitor to you. At this rate neither of you would last much longer.

“F-Fyodor, nnghh, I'm-”

He pressed his lips to your ear murmuring “Cum for me darling” in that deep rich tone of his before he kissed your temple. You slump against him gripping his shoulders tightly as you reach your climax. You were such a panting mess you didn't notice Nikolai had been standing in the doorway the whole time.

The jester took that as his cue to enter the scene bouncing over to you both. “I'm back, did I miss anything?” Nikolai surveys the room cheerful as ever, wiggling his eyebrows while Fyodor's expression goes flat. 

He leaned into Fyodor’s personal space with excitement “Oh good you finally confessed! It's about time you figured it out. Honestly it was so uncharacteristic for you of all people to be the last one to know.” He clapped his hands as Fyodor frowned.

“I do not understand what you are referring to, neither (Y/N) nor I made any confession. I was simply minding my business when her preheat kicked in.” There was something about the way that Fyodor said it that sounded dismissive like he was trying to convince himself that it was true.

Nikolai rolled his eyes “Well then if you haven't realized it that's fine. I'll be taking her now if it's all the same to you.” his smile turned into a sneer.

“By all means her heat is your responsibility after all.”

Nikolai helped delicately peel you out of Fyodor's lap holding you in his arms like a princess. You were extremely sensitive to touch and both Alpha's couldn't hide the soft satisfied expression as they watched you enter Nikolai's cape. 

“Careful Dos-kun, get too attached and I might have to claim her for myself~” the jester teased even though Fyodor knew if it came down to it Nikolai wouldn't mind sharing at all. 

It was the reason he knew he could get away with using you during his rut cycles. Although the first time was purely a miscalculation on his part, but he digressed. The rest was about convenience. Fyodor had or ever wanted to have rut partners in the past, which was unfortunate because having one makes things so much easier to manage. Besides the point he was getting sidetracked in his head.

“As if the thought doesn't excite you.” Fyodor quipped back as his attention was drawn to his monitor. Dazai had managed to put him in check twice since you was being very distracting.

Nikolai laughed ruffling the other’s hair. “Guilty as charged but still,” he trailed off turning towards the door “It's not fair to play games with someone who doesn't know they're playing a game.” Nikolai waved his coat as he vanished to his room leaving Fyodor to scowl at the vacant space.

You were happily making your nest on Nikolai's bed. The room smelled very strongly of the alpha, it helped keep your mind clear especially after you came on Fyodor's cock. In your brain the faster you set up your nest the quicker you could be knotted. Slick was still running down your thigh when Nikolai joined you leaning over your shoulder. “I like what you've done with the place.” He snickered, placing a kiss on your scent gland “Can't wait to ruin it!” He chirped.

You moaned as he pressed himself against your backside. His hands were set on removing the rest of your clothes “By the way did you know Fyodor was playing chess with Dazai that entire time?”

Your eyes widened at the sudden insight. “That's what he was doing! I'm surprised he even let me in then, he hates losing to Dazai.”

Nikolai's hands danced across your exposed skin, kissing everywhere he could while undressing himself. “That's how important you are to him.” 

You scoffed “Yeah as if.”

You can’t say he didn’t try, Nikolai has known for a while now that you and Fyodor are fated mates. He's astonished that neither of you could smell it on each other. It wasn’t his job to interfere though he hoped that you'd realize it sooner, But that's not his problem!

[anisespice]

“ PARTY AT A RICH DUDE’S HOUSE ”

synopsis: after getting dumped, your friends propose you crash his house-party and completely wreck the place using the guise of the rambunctious partygoers as cover. little did you know, someone's been watching you.

warnings: mature language, mentions of violence, vandalism, suggestive undertones, MDI. tesla slander(?) hate those cars so so so much. i honestly don't know, i think this one's pretty tame :))

notes: kesha lives rent free in my head lol. also got inspired by that scene from the movie “bottoms” where they blow up the douchbag’s car >:))) not sure how i feel about it :// but it was fun to write helped with writer's block sooo hope you enjoy!!

notes ii: yall WHY WON'T WORDS WORD ANYMORE I-

It wasn’t difficult infiltrating the party. With all the commotion pouring inside and out, people taking full advantage of their host’s endless bounds of resources and bottomless pockets, blending in was a snap. Immediately, your senses were overwhelmed with the stench of sweat and bad decisions. Smoke clouded your vision as did the rumbling bass of the music, the music rattling you to where you could feel it in your bones.

An annoyance builds every time a partygoer bumped into you as you sifted through the crowds, driving you to start elbowing and shoulder-checking everyone around you. You received stank looks and slurred curses, but it merely molded with the rest of the noise surrounding you.

They were all basically there to celebrate your misery, so fuck them.

Even though you were on the prowl for the douche-nozzle himself to give him a piece of your mind, at some point you got caught up with various cups of who know's what in your hand, downing them like a fish out of water. You welcomed the delightful burn as it rolled down your esophagus, seeping into the wounds of your broken heart, and right into your stomach like a hot stone. You fought back the urge to vomit fire, body vibrating as you mentally set your mission on a different course...the garage.

“Y’know, that’d go a lot quicker if you used this.” 

You yelped. Nearly slipping off of the cyber truck you were currently jumping on you regained balance in the last second, crouching down to slap your hands on the cool metal to steady yourself. While attempting to put a dent through the aluminum foil-ass top, you failed to notice your lone audience member chilling in a corner of the 10-car garage. How long he’d been standing there, you had no idea. All you knew was you had about four seconds to either teleport or hightail it to the nearest exit before he got a good look at your face.

“Shitshitshit,” you hissed, hurriedly and clumsily sliding down off the car, ready to book it. You really wished you hadn't drank as much before attempting to do this, but in your defense, you weren't expecting to have...company. However, as soon as your feet touched the floor, the stranger coaxed out to you with a free hand raised in peace, delaying your panicked scrambling. 

“Hey, hey, relax. Believe me, if I wanted to narc on you I would’ve done so when you lit those firecrackers off in the guest bathroom. Hilarious, by the way."

Your heart sunk. An uneasy feeling formed in the pit of your stomach, not sure whether to be relieved or devastated—Question is, why didn’t he tell anyone?

Remaining vigilant you peered over your shoulder at him, guard up. “Who're you?”

He raised a brow. “Pretty sure that’s my line, sweetheart.”

You glared, turning around fully to scrutinize him. From the way he was dressed—Designer from head to toe even if on the casual side, blinding Rolex on his wrist paired with a few rings, equally icy studs in his ears along with a thin, and golden chain rested upon his toned, inked chest—He had money, no doubt about it. Not too bad on the eyes either..

Shaking your head of that last thought, you scoffed, “Don’t call me that. ‘m not anyone’s ‘sweetheart’.”

He shrugged, coyly. “Be happy to fix that, if you’d like.”

“Do I look in the mood for funny shit?"

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Nah, 'course not. Look more like you’re itching to bust some more shit up. But, gotta say, how you’re going about it s’kinda redundant. Those things may look like they're made out of construction paper, but you’ll tire out before you even make single scratch. So.. figured you’d appreciate a more practical approach.”

Too preoccupied giving him the stank eye, you hadn't seen the weapon rested in his other hand. Once you set your eyes on it and allowed his words to fully register, they slowly widened. The stranger’s grin sharpened at your muted interest, flicking his wrist to spin the slab of metal around before resting it coolly on his shoulder.

"Ah, crazy girl’s in the mood now?"

Your curiosity morphed back into annoyance instantly at his cheeky comment. “I am not crazy.”

He hummed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Look, smartass, I'll have you know that I have a very good reason—” you pointed, ready to dump hours of alcohol-fueled rage on this stranger, only for him to immediately extinguish it with a mere wave of his hand.

“And you can tell me all about it when we go out for dinner after this. You want the bat or not?"

You paused, confused. Flabbergasted, even. Did this fool just ask me out?, you thought. Maybe you were just a little bit too tipsy and misheard, so you let it slide for now. With a huff, you finally said, skeptically, "Why...are you helping me?"

The stranger merely shrugged once more, eyes coated in mischief as he gave another spin of the bat. "Doesn't every criminal need a henchman?"

BAJI, HANMA, kazutora, mikey, draken, most of toman really, rindou, ran, izana,[insert anyone else who would fit].

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[sunshinehaze1]

Too Sexy for This

Pairing: Javi P x wife!reader

Summary: You’ve been encouraging Javi to refresh his 70s wardrobe. He decides 1994 will be the year he finally makes the change, but is this a resolution he can keep?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI. post-s3 Javi. established relationship, smut, oral (m), unprotected PiV, creampie, reader has hair that can be pulled into a messy bun

a/n: this was written for @beefrobeefcal New Year, Same Peña Challenge. I’m so sorry I’m late to post, but I wanted to throw it into the void anyways. obvs “posting on time for fic challenges” was NOT one of my NY resolutions.🫣 Thank you @80ssong for the beta! ❤️ I hope you enjoy! Fun Fact (maybe?): the runner-up for my fic title was “JCPena” 😏

word count: 2,889

ao3 | ml

Javi watches as the mirrored ball descends in Times Square, the cheers of the crowd echo on TV, and Dick Clark officially proclaims the start of 1994—a year brimming with opportunity and fresh beginnings. You and Javi chose to enjoy a relaxed evening at home to ring in the new year. Work has been particularly taxing for both of you and late nights navigating rowdy drunk crowds lost their charm long ago. 

You've already passed out, sleeping for the last hour or so with your head resting in Javi's lap. He gently brushes your hair away from your face and whispers sweetly in your ear, "It's time for bed, baby." 

Javi helps you settle into bed, and you quickly fall back asleep. He isn't as fortunate. Thoughts race through his mind about his intentions and resolutions for the new year ahead. Reflecting on conversations you've had with him regarding his "dated" wardrobe and the need to "refresh" it to be more "on-trend," Javi scoffed, dismissing the idea that his current style of tight bootcut jeans, collared shirts, yellow aviators, corduroy blazers, and Members Only bomber jackets wasn't still fashionable. 

He feels confident in his clothes; they worked for him in Colombia and in attracting you. When you first met Javi, you always commented on how tight his jeans were and how sexy he looked. Why does he need to change how he dresses now? Just because we're in a new decade, and fashion magazines dictate what's in and what's out? Nevertheless, your encouragement was persistent. Your stubbornness was something he loved about you; you challenged him. 

With six years to go until the new millennium, Javi decides to take the plunge and revamp his wardrobe. What matters most is that It will make you happy. Happy wife, happy life. 

The next day, Javi finds himself at the mall, navigating the JCPenney clothes racks. As he sifts through silk button-ups adorned with abstract patterns in rich jewel tones and coordinating pleated baggy pants, he pulls a few outfits from the rack and heads to the fitting rooms. 

One by one, he tries on each outfit. They all conceal his slim frame. The flow of the shirts cascades over his broad shoulders, billowing at the waist with the excess fabric tucked into his pants. A shiny leather belt highlights his waist. He examines himself in the mirror, turning left and right to inspect the outfit from every angle. The pants make his lower half appear like a balloon. Javi shakes his head. How is this fashionable?

He tries on the last few outfits, still unsure whether this style suits him. However, he'll give it a try for your sake. Hesitantly, Javi gathers the outfits. As he heads to the cashier, he pauses at a rack of sunglasses and selects a pair of wire-framed glasses with oval lenses. He figures he might as well go all in.

As he approaches the register, the young woman's eyes scan Javi's body. His shirt buttons strain at their limits, and his jeans cling to his hips, revealing a prominent outline of what lies hidden beneath the coarse fabric. Somehow, in 1994, this '70s style suits him. She wonders why he's buying all these loose-fitting clothes. Then she notices the gold band on his left hand; it all makes sense now. You assume his wife must have encouraged him to update his wardrobe. With a friendly smile, she greets Javi, "Did you find everything you needed today?" 

"Yes, thank you. I just hope my wife approves," he jokes.

You greet Javi as he walks through the door with his hands full. You finished your errands an hour ago and were surprised to find the house empty. Reading the store branding on the bags, "Sooo," you tease, "What were you up to today?" 

"I thought I'd finally get with the times." He lifts the bags up with a shrug.

You chuckle and lean in for a soft peck on the lips, "Alright then, show me what you got!"

You follow Javi into the bedroom, where he sets the bags down on the bed. He takes out each item, holding them against himself. You nod in approval for every piece. Anticipation builds as you look forward to seeing how the clothes will fit him, thrilled that he has finally embraced contemporary styles. 

Just a couple of weeks into the new year, Javi still isn't sold on this change. He's been working at a private firm since retiring from the DEA and his co-workers have been giving him shit, surprised that he's made such a drastic shift. He's starting to sense that you aren't as thrilled with his new wardrobe, either. 

Usually, you can't keep your hands off each other. You practically jump on him the moment he walks in the door; you rarely go more than two days without being intimate. But it's been nearly two weeks since he's had you, and he's beginning to think you no longer find him as attractive.

He sighs and contemplates whether this resolution is a good idea; he's trying so hard to stick to it. "I am NOT a quitter!" he thinks to himself. He steels himself with the same grit and determination that helped him take down the Cali Cartel, and he's sure he can see this through. 

Another week and a half passes, and Javi isn't sure how much more he can handle. His confidence is shattered. His coworkers aren't taking him seriously. He isn't receiving the attention he craves from you. When he asks you if everything is okay, you brush him off with the cliché excuse that you're "just tired." 

You feel guilty; after all, this was your idea. However, you know Javi is stubborn and doesn't give in easily, but these baggy clothes just don't work for you or him. They look great on the models in fashion magazines, so you thought they'd suit Javi as well. But his build is better suited for 70s fashion. His lean frame, broad shoulders, and tapered waist deserve denim that hugs his hips and thighs so tightly that he has to forego underwear. 

You can tell his confidence is at an all-time low—something you've never seen in your man before. You miss your cool and confident Javi. It's time to talk to him so he knows he no longer has to keep up the charade and decide to bring it up over dinner. 

"Baby, I know you're not into this new wardrobe." 

Javi doesn't want to let you down. "No, no, it's fine. I'm just still getting used to it." 

"Javi, it really isn't your style. I appreciate you making the effort, and I'm sorry I pushed you so hard to change."

Your admission relieves Javi, who wasn't sure how much longer he could tolerate this ridiculous wardrobe. Not only did it shake his confidence, it impacted his swagger. He felt as if he walked more slowly, the resistance of the billowy pants and tops hindering him. 

The following day, Javi returns to his old wardrobe, thankful that he did not get rid of anything. He packs the new clothes and drops them off at the donation center on his way to work, hopeful they'll find a new home. 

You're lying on the couch reading the latest issue of Cosmo when Javi walks through the door. You've been busy reading up on the latest ways to satisfy your lover in bed—storing away ideas to try with Javi. When he enters the room, you peek over the couch and see that your old Javi is back. Since you left the house before him this morning, you hadn't seen what he wore to work today.

Your gaze travels up and down his body, landing on his bulge, visible and on display for you in his tight jeans. Oh, how you've missed it. Your mouth starts to water, and Javi catches you staring, "My eyes are up here, honey." He winks.

Lifting your gaze to meet his eyes, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and admire your handsome husband. How you ever thought he'd look better in anything other than the clothes he feels the most comfortable in is something you could kick yourself for. 

The hunger in your eyes sends warmth up his body, and his cock twitches in his jeans. He walks over to the front of the couch to get a better look at you. You're wearing his DEA t-shirt, which has been washed and worn so often that it's practically tissue-thin. Your perked nipples protrude through the fabric. You may as well not have bothered with the soft shorts you have on, which barely cover your shapely thighs. You are a vision with your hair in a messy bun, tendrils falling along your temples. 

You sit upright to take him in, placing your hands on his hips as he stands between your legs. With an eager smile, you slip your fingers into his belt loops and pull him down toward you, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. You let out a muffled whimper when he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. The kiss is so intense that it knocks Javi off balance, causing his knees to buckle and him to collapse on top of you. You both burst into laughter as he shifts his weight onto his palms, sinking into the couch cushion to avoid crushing you. 

In a fervor, you pull him closer to you, comforted by his weight. He begins to grind his hips into you, your slick arousal sticking to your shorts as his cock grinds into your core. His length strains against the front of his jeans. Beads of precum coat the zipper's teeth without the barrier of underwear. You move your hands down his body to unfasten his jeans and release his cock from the rough confines. Swiping the precum that leaks from his tip, you coat his thick head and slowly slide the foreskin up and down. With his eyes fluttered shut, his head lolls back, emitting a heavy groan. The ministrations of your delicate fingers along his most sensitive area overwhelm him, especially after weeks of not experiencing your touch.

He peppers your cheek and nose with kisses while one hand travels underneath your shirt, lifting it enough to expose your gorgeous tits. He cups the soft mounds in his palm and captures your hardened buds between his fingers, tweaking them gently, making you squirm at the sensation as it roils through your body down to your core. "I need to see you, baby," you moan. 

You're desperate to see all of him. In your haste, you pull apart his shirt, causing the buttons to fly across the room and bounce around the living room floor. You press your palms flat against his tanned chest, smooth and strong, and lift your head up to trace along his collarbone and down his sternum with your tongue. Flicking the tip of your tongue around his nipple and then attending to the other with the same care. 

You coax Javi to sit back against the couch and relax. Bending over to kiss him, you make your way down his body, leaving gentle kisses, slowing down as you approach the patch of hair that is neatly trimmed above his cock. You take a deep breath, inhaling his heady musk, which is uniquely Javi. He emits an exasperated sigh while you gaze up at him through hooded eyes, palming his cock. He's getting antsy, desperate for you to take him in your mouth.

His large palm cradles the back of your head. With his fingers tangled through your hair, he gently encourages you to move your attention lower. Your soft hand wraps around his length as you take languid strokes along his shaft before wrapping your lips around the tip, teasing the seam with kitten licks. 

"Oh, fuck. I've missed your mouth.." Javi tilts your face up to look at him, his dick still between your lips. "Go on, take all of him."

You nod and take his entire length into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Your eyes watering, you take breaths through your nose so you can hold him there. Savoring the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. Javi's breathing increases with heavy pants as he watches you take him, all of him. He gently swipes away at a tendril that has fallen over your face, obstructing his view of your eyes. 

You pull off of him to catch your breath, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth. Javi thumbs away at the stray tear falling down your cheek. You thank him with a wink and begin to lap kitten licks over his tip before running your tongue down his length and then taking him again in your mouth. Bobbing up and down, hollowing your cheeks at a steady pace. Javi pulls you off of him abruptly, "You keep that up, baby; I'm not going to be able to fill up that pretty pussy of yours."

Smugly, you smirk and move to your feet, grasping Javi's face between your hands and leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, "Fucking fill me up then!"

Javi whips you around, one of his hands wrapped around both of your wrists. He rips off your sleep shorts with his other hand and swiftly bends you over the couch arm. Pleased to see your pussy on full display, as you weren't wearing any panties. He strokes his cock while his other hand palms over your lush cheeks. His fingers make their way to your weeping center and swipe through your folds. You buck forward as his fingertip brushes over your clit, already so sensitive to his touch. 

"You're always so fucking wet for me."

"Always, Javi."

Javi pulls your hips high in the air, balancing on your tip toes, and presses your chest down into the cushions. He runs his cock through your seam to coat it with your arousal, eliciting a moan when the tip catches your clit. 

"Are you going to keep teasing, or are you going to fuck me, Javi?"

With that, he notches at your hole and thrusts into you until his pelvis slams into your ass. "Is this what you want?"

The pleasurable sting of his cock plunging through your walls has left you speechless, and all you can do is nod into the couch. "hmm? I couldn't hear that."

You muffle a "yes" into the downy cushion. 

"That's my girl!"

He begins a relentless pace, pounding into you. "You're so fucking tight. Fuck!" 

His balls slap against your clit with each thrust. The combination of Javi's cock and the brush of your nipples against the soft faded fabric of your t-shirt sends immense pleasure throughout your body. You feel warmth roil in your core, your arousal increasing with every pass of his cock through your walls. His hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, as he pulls you back into his hips with each thrust, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you. 

Javi feels your walls tightening around him; he bends forward over you, the weight of his body pushing you further into the cushion. His hot breath against your ear, "I can feel you, baby." he reaches around your front and begins to thumb your clit, "You going to cum for me?"

"Fuck…" you gasp, "Yes, Javi! Yes! Yes! Yes!" 

Wailing as your body shudders through your orgasm. Your pussy grips his cock so tightly it only takes a few more thrusts before Javi's cum floods your pussy. 

He leaves soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, gentle nibbles along your earlobe before a husky whisper, "Your pussy hugs my cock as tight as my jeans." 

You chortle and playfully smack his shoulder with the back of your hand, "Javi!"

He chuckles, smacking more kisses along your cheek before he pulls himself off of you. Begrudgingly, he removes his softening cock from your warmth. He'd stay inside you forever if he could.

As his thick head exits your hole, he admires your combined arousal leaking out of you and onto your thighs. You are his, and he is yours. 

Stlll in your fucked out haze, you hear the faucet turn on in the bathroom and then Javi's heavy footfalls, followed by a gentle wet warmth of a washcloth. He moves slowly, careful not to arouse your oversensitive clit. After he wipes his cock, he discards the washcloth on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. 

You shift to your side, and Javi squeezes in behind you. Both of you bare; he wraps his arm around your stomach, warm skin pressed against each other. You tilt your head to face him with a sly smirk stretching across your lips, "Mmm, I'm so glad you didn't get rid of your old clothes." 

"There was no way I was going to get rid of those. Not when my ass looks THAT good!" Laughing, he snuggles his nose into your neck, inhaling your post-sex scent, mixing with your perfume. 

Your breaths begin to steady in tandem as you drift off to sleep, and Javi thinks to himself, "Better luck next year." 

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. 🫶🏻

tagging a few folks who may be interested in reading: @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @ak-vintage @peepawispunk @half-moon16 (let me know if you'd prefer I not clog your notifs)

[gaybatmanenthusiast]

MASKED INTIMACY (oneshot)

(HANNIBAL LECTOR X M! READER)

⋆★ word count : 808

⋆★ warnings : n/a

⋆★ summary : you’re snooping in Hannibal’s office to find clues about an ongoing investigation, but Hannibal catches you in the act. Instead of reporting you, Hannibal offers to let you go—if you agrees to dinner.

⋆★ extra : wrote this with a friend in mind

The leather-bound books lining Hannibal Lecter’s office seemed to watch M/N as he slipped into the dim, quiet space. Everything was arranged so neatly, so meticulously, it was almost unsettling. The faint scent of leather and something metallic filled the air, making him feel as if he were intruding into a lion’s den rather than an office. But he knew he had to be careful. He’d come this far, and any noise, any slip-up, would make it clear he was here uninvited.

He swallowed, glancing around for any indication of where Hannibal might keep case files. The idea was almost laughable—Lecter was far too clever to leave anything incriminating out in the open. Yet, he couldn’t shake the sense that something vital lay hidden here. Maybe some note, some slip of paper that would connect Lecter to the trail of unsolved crimes currently haunting his nights. As he reached out to the top drawer of the desk, his fingers grazed the cold metal handle, and he hesitated. What if he found more than he bargained for?

As he carefully opened it, a wave of adrenaline hit him. There were documents, letters—none of which looked like they belonged to any ordinary psychiatrist. He sifted through, his heart hammering, every sound amplified. Pages rustling. The quiet creak of the drawer. His own breathing, a little too quick, as he scanned for anything that might crack the case wide open.

Calm down, he thought, his hands slightly trembling. But even in his resolve, the room itself seemed to seep into his skin, amplifying a strange sense of dread. If Hannibal knew he was here… The idea was almost laughable; how could he possibly explain it away?

Footsteps.

The sound was soft at first, blending almost seamlessly into the background of the building. He dismissed it at first, chalking it up to paranoia. But then, unmistakably, they grew louder. His mind spun, but there was no escape now, no time to hide. The door swung open, and there he was.

Dr Hannibal Lecter stood framed by the low light of the hallway, eyes fixed on M/N with a predatory calm that sent chills down his spine. He didn’t look surprised—more curious, if anything.

“Can I help you with something?” Hannibal’s voice was smooth, disarming, but it carried a note of something darker. He stood there, watching M/N as if savouring every second, letting him feel the weight of his intrusion.

Caught off guard, M/N stumbled over his words. “I… I was… looking for something,” he mumbled, realising immediately how weak his excuse sounded.

Hannibal’s eyes gleamed, a flicker of amusement barely concealed beneath his polite facade. “I can see that,” he replied, stepping further into the room. There was a glint of something sinister in his eyes, like he was already planning his next move. “You must know that breaking into someone’s office, especially someone in my line of work, is a rather risky endeavour.”

M/N’s heart raced, but he forced himself to stand his ground. “I had to see if there was something you weren’t telling us,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the fear bubbling up inside.

Lecter’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Is that so?” His gaze travelled slowly over him, calculating, as if measuring his resolve. “I should call the authorities, of course… or I could simply let this slide.”

M/N froze, the words catching him off guard. “Why would you do that?”

“Let’s say I admire your initiative,” Hannibal said, his voice almost a purr. He stepped closer, close enough that M/N could feel the quiet power radiating from him. “But perhaps you could indulge me in a… different arrangement.”

“What do you mean?” M/N managed to ask, heart hammering as Hannibal moved closer still, his gaze never faltering.

“A dinner invitation,” Hannibal said smoothly. “Tomorrow night, at my home.” He tilted his head, the faintest smile curling his lips. “In exchange, I’ll pretend I never saw you here tonight. Sound fair?”

There was a pause, as M/N struggled to form words, knowing full well the reputation Hannibal Lecter had, the stories whispered between investigators. Yet, there was something about his offer, about the air of danger and control that made it hard to refuse.

Finally, M/N nodded, his throat dry. “All right… dinner it is.”

Hannibal’s smile widened ever so slightly. “Good. Then I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” With a final, assessing look, he stepped aside, granting M/N his escape.

As he left, he could feel Hannibal’s gaze lingering on him, a silent reminder of the dark promise now hanging between them. And as he walked out into the night, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, with every step closer to Hannibal, he was walking deeper into a game far more dangerous than he’d ever imagined.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Loyalties

Kim HongJoong x (f) Detective Reader

Summary: He held her itty bitty heart in his bloody palm and she knew that, but did she love him enough to let him win his little game everytime? Did he love her enough to risk her safety?

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: Joong's a perv (Idk okay), mention of gunshots, strong language.

Word Count: 2.5K

Read Time: 12 min

Rating: nc-17

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

She hated him, no she despised him, no she loathed that disgusting, horrid, weasel of a man. She despised his cheap ass fur coat, his unnecessary bling and those pants! Her blood would boil at the mere name of that demonic, immature moron, she despised every little detail about him; his angular face, his sharp eyes that would glimmer like the stars swirling with pure mischief, his light chuckle that would ring in her ears like the voice of an angel, oh and she really, really, abhorred the way he'd look at her, with the warmth of pure love - NO!

Mentally slapping herself she cleared her throat, rehearsing the first stanza of hatred that ran hot in her veins for the infamous leader of MATZ. Technically it was just two men, boys who were usually called in for petty crimes turned into men who were now challenging the system- a knock-off of any vigilante out there. Batman, Daredevil, even the Punisher, see these men had class and style- MATZ, well, they had style...but perhaps the fact that explaining how her once high school friends are now notorious criminals or wannabe Robinhood would be a bit difficult. Perhaps this little fact only added to her current presiding problem, one she had mentioned to her lover, explicitly mentioning her concerns; for the safety of his life and her professional career. Once again, that bastard let his deflated ego in the way, her words bouncing off it without ever reaching his useless, dysfunctional brain.

So, here she stood, in front of her captain, watching him go on and on about the need for order and justice, the need for law and police work, and more importantly the need for loyalty. Loyalty, a trait that was of importance, though her's was being questioned.

"Where do your loyalties lie detective?"

"With the force, Sir" With a salute she looked dead ahead, not at him, no, through him, trying to figure out the answer to this very question. Where did her loyalties lie?

"Then how is it, you've been leading the task force to capture MATZ for three years and each time you are close they miraculously slip away!" his large, meaty hands slammed on the table, her partner beside her flinching, though not a jerk left her bones. Instead, her eyes flickered to his face, instantly scanning his form, this man looked like anything but eh definition of justice, safety and security - if anything, he looked more like a criminal than that moron of hers.

"I assure you, Sergeant, my loyalties lie where my heart has ever since I was a little girl. My friendship with Joong- " pausing she cleared her throat, ignoring the way he raised a brow at he before glancing at her partner as if hinting at something "MATZ, both Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa ended as soon as they started this life of crime."

"I don't trust you an ounce detective, not one bit." slumping back in his seat he stared up at her, "But the Captain trusts ya for some reason, believes you a good egg- I just think you're a cracked egg, too far gone for anything else- so I'll tell you this, I'm on to ya, I'll be watching you, listening to you, from the moment you step into his precinct ill be watching your every move."

.

"Well, that was something." Jongho muttered, closing the door behind him, "Do you...want to grab a bite or something?"

"I'm good." giving him a small smile she sat back at her desk, sifting through the papers, not a word written processing in her already occupied mind. The traffic of thoughts only stopped when a hand rested on hers, "I may be younger than you, but we're partners, and my mentor has always told to me trust my partner. "

His soft words, followed by his cute smile had her sigh in defeat, sitting back down and nodding, "Some mentor you have, huh?"

"She's the best of the best." Puffing up his chest with pride he placed his hands on her desk, "Now, what can I do, to make my mentor feel better."

"Nothing, really Jong, I- " her words caught up as she noticed something. Her eyes caught the way her system was on, the screen lit up, the mouse icon moving on its own, she was being - shit. Instantly reaching for the cable, she pulled the plug on the CPU.

"Um...did you see what I just saw?"

"Jongho, get Yunho and tell him to track whatever the hell that was."

"Yes, Ma'am."

.

The door slammed shut, the darkness just adding to her anger, of course, he wouldn't turn on the lights, no lamp or bulb, choosing to sit on the small balcony - maybe she should just push him off, the idea extremely tempting at this point.

Placing her badge and gun on the table she made her way to the small balcony at the other end of the living room, making sure to turn on a lamp on the way out. Sliding the door open she sighed, the cool breeze prickling her warm skin, a shiver running down her spine as she stepped out completely, barely missing the small table as she made her way to the seat her boyfriend was currently sprawled on, limbs extending like the roots of the potted plants behind him. His head lay against the cushioned headrest, turning his head to face her, an easy smile making its way to his face, the warm glow of the fairy lights from the wall beside him only adding onto his beautiful face, making him appear oh so soft and lovable.

"Hey babe." his words barely above a whisper.

"Joong~" she sang, slowly getting on top of him, making herself comfortable until she was fully straddling him, his hands automatically finding their place on her back, holding onto her tight, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, "Did you miss me?"

"You bet your pretty ass, I did," he mumbled, eying the way she moved closer, her chest pressed against his, fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head.

"Aw~ baby" she pouted before gripping onto the ends of his hair and tugging hard, his head tilting back as a whimper escaped him, damn, his girl was in the mood- or so he thought.

"I didn't you f*cker." her grip tightened, tilting his head further back with another tug, his own fingers digging into her sides, trying to keep some form of control.

"Why~" whining with his eyes closed, he treasured the burning sensation, his princess knew how to play and he liked it so very much.

"Did you get Youngie to tap into my system? Do you want me to get fired? Or do you want me to shoot you in the d*ck?"

"Aw baby~ it's just work." his eyes finally snapped open, standing up without warning as a high-pitched squeak left her lips, arms instantly locking around his neck, much like her legs around his waist, staring up at him wide-eyed.

A chuckle echoed in the dark of the night as his hands finally gripped her close, "Don't worry doll, I'd never let ya fall." Walking them into the apartment he looked down at her frowning, "Did someone piss off my princess ?"

"Joong, " sighing she glanced away, letting him carry her around like she weighed nothing, like she was a mere muse he was addicted to, clinging onto him, onto his fur coat- wait God, he was wearing the orange one, she hated it.

"Yes, love?" slowly setting her down on the bed he shrugged off his jacket, going to the cupboard to hang it, his precious baby wasn't cheap!

"I can only protect you if you trust me, but if you hack into my system or pull shit like that and they fire me, who knows what- I- I just can't lose you" her words clogging up in her throat, the burning sensation all too evident behind her eyes, " what I mean is" sighing she paused to rephrase, his casual attitude just adding to the frustration as he walked towards her, swaying like a cat, stopping right in front of her sitting form, "Hongjoong, I'm serious, with me, it is just a game of cat and mouse but if I get replaced, if its someone else, it'll be serious and they might even-"

"Shhh..." placing a finger on her lips he hushed her, his hand caressing her cheek, admiring how she nuzzled into his palm, "You know love, " he whispered leaning closer till their noses touched, "I am a very dangerous man, I am more than just your lover."

"But-"

"I'll lay off your system," brushing his lips against hers, "Detective." Pulling back he smiled down at her, admiring how she looked up at him with teary eyes filled with nothing but love and worry, letting his intrusive thoughts win and squishing her cheeks with one hand, laughing at her whining in protest.

His other hand pulled out something from his back, showing her the shiny metal toy of his, "If it were someone else, other than you, that f*cker would already be dead, you're the only reason why I haven't torn this system down to shreds." with one last kiss to the forehead, her lovable idiot of a man once again promised to stay out of her way, at least for a while.

.

"This is team two, The ground floor is clear."

He did it again, he must've done it again, no way in hell did he not do it.

"Team three reporting from floor 1, all clear."

"Boss" Jongho mumbled beside her, turning off his comm, "Did you tell him?"

Sighing she adjusted her bulletproof west as the two walked into the basement, "Yes, I told that bastard, my system wasn't tapped, I double-checked." Of course, her junior knew about her little relationship, she did teach him that a mentor and mentee should have no secrets, even ones like these. It didn't take him long to accept it either, saying something along the lines of, "Is he really that bad if he's fighting against a system that has failed us?"

"Because Yunho just texted me saying your phone was tapped instead. "

"I hate him."

"Team two reporting, roof's all clear boss."

"This doesn't look good," he mumbled, trailing hot on her heels as the two entered the basement, a parking lot with two entrances. They were going to split up, "We can't go empty-handed, we need something at least."

"I know. Let's split up, and be on your guard."

With that the two parted ways, her footsteps echoing across the empty parking lot, the scraping of her boots muffling the jingle of her gun, one that was aimed and ready to shoot. A low chuckle caught her ear.

"STOP RIGHT THERE." She yelled, turning to aim at the fool, his smirk pissing her off even more, "Don't.Move."

"Hey doll." the deep voice from beside her alerting her senses, "You should go check up on your partner, baby bear's knocked out like Goldilocks." Seonghwa chuckled, making his way to stand next to Hongjoong who had his hands up for a show, the smug look never leaving his face.

"Aw, come on detective, just let us go and we can call it a night."

A loud bang, followed by a series of bangs, resonated across the entire parking lot.

"ALL UNITS TO THE BASEMENT, NOW!"

.

"You okay?" she asked, pressing the icepack against the bump on his head, "Told you to wear the helmet."

"Are YOU okay?" he asked, others around them looking at their head's bulletproof jacket, staring at the four shots right across it. Though that's not what he meant, he was definitely asking about something else.

"Yeah, great actually." Patting her head she turned around when someone called her name, eying the office who handed her a phone, "It's the sergeant, detective." rolling her eyes she pressed it against her ear, "Hello?"

"Detective. I heard about the encounter but didn't think you had it in ya to shoot him. Glad the bulletproof vest worked though, you're a good agent, we can't risk losing. I take it back, you have my trust and support. Get home safe."

.

Slamming the door shut she sighed in relief, kicking off her shoes she made her way into the living room, oh? The lights were on, what a pleasant surprise, wonder what happened?

"Hey honey how was work?" she smirked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as she watched her shirtless boyfriend glare back at her, both ignoring the other man in the room who was tending to the gunshot wound.

Raising a brow, he scoffed, "Oh great love I got shot today by a bitch-"

"I'm still holding my gun Joong, don't test me"

Slamming his hand on his thigh he yelled "YOU SHOT ME- you SHOT ME IN THE SHOULDER!" hissing in pain as Seonghwa clicked his tongue, mumbling a stay still as he patched up the hole. This was all he could do before Yeosang could come over and have a proper look at it.

"YOU TAPPED MY PHONE"

"WELL YOUR SERGEANT WAS GETTING TOO COZY WITH YA- man's a perv, I know it" he spat back, shoving Seonghwa out of the way with his free hand, earning a curse in return.

"HONGJOONG, HE WAS DOUBTING MY LOYALTIES!" she explained and pointed at herself, "AND YOU SHOT ME TOO!"

A dramatic gasp echoed across the room followed by a hand placed on his chest - his heart, mind you-, causing Seonghwa to roll his eyes, here we go again, he should've never befriended these two in high school. Mumbling to himself about their idiocy he walked out to the balcony, deciding to smoke instead of listening to these idiots.

"First of all, YOU shot ME first and" he yelled and turned to point at the balcony, "That motherf*cker shot you, not me! I agree four times was a bit excessive but hey you were the one who kept going on and on about us being too soft on ya." Turning to her with raised brows, "And loyalties? Babe, come on, I mean, you and I- like we like- I've been in you multiple times, day or night and-"

"CAN YOU NOT!" she screamed, gesturing at the open door of the balcony.

'I don't care, pretend I'm not here, that's what I'm pretending too!' was all they could hear from the balcony, causing her face to resemble a tomato, though her shameless boyfriend was as nonchalant as ever, continuing his little speech, half naked in the living room.

"All I'm saying is, I don't question your loyalties because I know you've got the hots for me like I completely get it, I'd wanna sleep with me too, but your creep of a boss knows his soggy sausage aint worth your time and-"

"I should've aimed for your d*ck"

"Would you really though? Cause I know you loyal to my d-"

"And this conversation is over." with that she stomped away, speed walking when she heard the loud cackles of Seonghwa followed by the laughter of her own idiot of a man. No, boys, they were still the same shameless teenage boys, she accidentally had the unfortunate fate of meeting in school, when she was nothing but a victim of loneliness, turning her grey dull days into chaotic, colourful ones pulled out of the ass of the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

[bboricha]

➳ pairings: ayato x secretary afab!reader ➳ synopsis: you’re the secretary of the yashiro commissioner of inazuma, kamisato ayato. ➳ cw: not proofread, fingering, he does a lil slap on reader's... you know..., sir kink (if u squint)

and he’s currently knuckles deep into your sopping, wet cunt.

you’re snug on his lap while he pays no mind to you, sifting through the plethora of paperwork and documents that never seem to end with his right hand, giving you all the attention you need with his left hand. his deft fingers are familiar with every nook and crevice of your walls and he’s doing all his ministrations on you with his left hand—was he always ambidextrous? you never noticed, maybe you weren’t a good secretary after all.

“s—sir… i’m about to—” you say, whining when he pulls his fingers out and gives your pussy a messy slap, the sound so obscene that you blush.

“what did i say about talking?” he asks, his voice cold as he doesn’t even bother to look away from his papers. he gives you another slap when you don’t respond, and you squeal, tears forming from hours of him edging you and now even slapping your swollen, puffy core.

“to…” you sniffle, “...wait patiently until you’re finished with your work.”

“good girl,” his fingers plunge right back into you and you suppress a scream with your hands as best you can. you can hear the smile in his voice and you remember his preference for obedience—a characteristic that’s gotten you into this predicament to begin with.

but again, you’re not really one to complain now, are you?

➳ an: im avoiding my academic responsibilities

[josphitia]

Josie's Cow HRT Journey Part 5 - Groceries and Friendship

*BeepBeep* *BeepBeep* *BeepBeep*

“Alright alright, I'm up…” *Yawn* “Ugh, my hair’s a mess…” I said groggily, reaching for the cheap comb I kept in the drawer by my mirror. “How is my hair so tangled and what is with this headache…” As I began to sift my hair, suddenly-

*Snap* was the sound as the teeth of the comb broke off, spiraling to the ground. They struck something hard, something unexpected, something that were-

“H-horns? *My* horns?” I muttered as I investigated the source of where the comb struggled and lost. I started to tear up as I parted my hair with my fingers. There they were, two small buds that had emerged from my skull. The first official start of my transition into the boviness I really was. Crying was the beginning of my morning that day, but it was a release of pure joy. I just kept staring at the two small glints of keratin that were stubbornly pushing their way through my scalp.

From there the changes came quickly one after the other over the coming days. I could see, I could feel, my body gratefully and ecstatically accepting the new hormones coursing through my body. Every day I found new developments to investigate: My ears began to taper into a point. My nails were taking on a dark, cloudy tint; as well as hardening themselves into stronger material. My canines were slowly becoming duller. There was a small nub at the bottom of my spine, a tail waiting for the right encouragement to spring forth. I felt a constant warmness radiating from inside me, with a growing hunger rising each day reminding me of the fuel I needed for my advancements.

Small, rounded, lattice-work hairs started to sprout over the whole of my body. It was like a thousand small needle pricks. A subtle stinging that I felt constantly over every inch of my skin, but focused primarily on my arms, legs, and face at these early stages. The Endo theorized that I can expect my fur to be the same color as the hair on my head, if a few degrees lighter in shade. My fur is going to be a beautiful shade of creamy brown, she said.

But the most prominent mutation was with my face itself. The pain was a numbing fire as I could feel my face elongating, my muzzle slowly growing to a flattened point. As if to fill any empty space created from my changes, my tongue was also growing suit. If my canines were still sharp I would be worried about the relentless stabbings they would inflict. Instead my body was in harmony, each change benefitting the way my body was transforming.

It is an odd sensation to feel euphoria from the growing of fur in places you had previously endured painful hair removal procedures on. It’s hard not to feel pangs of loss at the years I spent moving my body towards a direction that ultimately wasn’t for me. Pangs of jealousy at the people who have started their journeys before me. Pangs of resentment towards myself at not realizing what I needed to do, *what I could have done,* sooner. But I am on this journey now and more and more the only feeling filling my heart was *pride.* I look in the mirror and I'm finally starting to see *me.*

----------------------------------------------------

I had been spending the first transformative week in my own home, journaling my changes like some amateur documentarian. But, I was beginning to run low on the essentials. Fresh greens and produce had begun to be the only things I could reliably eat, and unfortunately, those are products you must purchase with regularity. With horror, I knew what I had to do: Make a trip to the grocery.

While I felt happiness and pride at my current state, one thought clouded the back of my mind: You're not there *yet.* You don't *pass.* That concept can be toxic, and it has led to many persons to focus on their own appearances to an unhealthy degree. But it is predicated on one simple notion: It's not safe for me to simply *exist.* This society is one built upon conformity in all aspects. To be different is a threat. It signals to the establishment that they have not done enough to control you. To your fellow citizens, it raises feelings of contempt. *They* were following the expectations laid before them, why can't you? It is sadly easier for many to lambast and degrade another rather than to focus their energies inward to self-discovery.

And so I donned an outfit similar to the ones I wore early in my first transition. A baggy hoodie, a pair of loose jeans, and old shoes. All articles of clothing chosen for one primary purpose; to conceal as much of my body as possible. However, these clothes did not obfuscate my appearance as well as they did in the past. For starters, my tail had finally emerged from its dormancy. I had hoped I could simply squirrel it away inside my pants' leg, but that proved too uncomfortable. I simply had to let my new limb be free, even if it was a signal to those behind me that I was of a different sort than them. But, the biggest identifier of my otherness was the wide muzzle that my face had been contoured into. No matter how I wore my hood, my flat nose poked through. I relented, the rumbling in my stomach rising with every minute I fuddled with my appearance. This was simply the best I could do, the beginnings of a cow wearing clothes too big for her, with a small tail above her jeans and a pink snout leaning out from her hood.

The mUver driver gave me many side glances, before simply asking me “Is there one o' dem furry conventions in town?” I lied, to protect myself, and said “Yeah. A small one.” The answer proved enough to satiate his curiosity and the rest of the ride we both partook in an alliance of silence. He dropped me off in front of the store. 5 stars, I instinctively input, not wanting to somehow offend the man who provided me passage. I held my empty bags close and walked through the store.

“Most people are just trying to live their own lives. They won't notice you” I chanted to myself, a mantra to get me through this obstacle called shopping. I made a straight line for the produce and began to stockpile, doing the math in my head between how much I *could* buy, how much I *could* eat, and how much *would* spoil were my math wrong. While comparing between two particularly small heads of cabbage, I heard the first comments regarding my appearance.

“Mommy, what's wrong with her face?”

It alarmed me, as anyone talking about you but not to you would, but it didn't frighten me. This little girl was simply curious about the world around her. There *was* something different about my face, something she had never witnessed before. There *was* something wrong with my face, it hadn't grown to its full splendor yet. But the next thing I heard killed any confidence I had been building during this excursion.

“Don't look at him, sweety” the mother sniped as she yanked her child in the opposite direction of myself.

Him. *Him.* The pronoun I had been able to avoid being labeled was back. The anxiety built within me. Was it simply that the mother did not give herself a proper look at me, using the first pronoun that came to her? Did the clothes I wear obscure my appearance so much that I presented male? But the thought that pushed all others out, rising to the forefront of my consciousness was one I had never considered: Was being bovine a trait seen as inherently male to the greater public? It was a notion so at odds with my own perception of reality. Being a cow was the greatest expression of my femininity. How could that be seen as masculine, of all things?

I deduced I had picked up enough food for at least a few days. I headed to the registers, I needed to leave. But, of course, the bored cashiers were now replaced with ones frantic as their lines were packed with irritable customers. I searched but to no avail for the self-checkout lanes. I always avoided interaction as a standard practice, but at this moment such an exercise felt paramount to my own safety. And thus I relented, slipping myself to the back of a line.

I put my face into my phone, trying my best to ignore my material reality. To my shock I had a notification I had never seen before: “You have 1 new follower.” I had begun to post about my transition online like so many others had done, but I never imagined someone would actually be interested in *mine.* I didn't know what to do except look at the profile of this person who had taken an interest in my own. She was a stunning tiger my own age who was following all sorts of other Therians. But before I knew it, my self-induced bubble was popped by the reality around me.

“Ew what the fuck is wrong with their face?”

The first of many whispers to come. At least this time they gendered me somewhat correctly. But I wasn't prepared for the insults to come.

“Ugh, another ugly bitch thinking she's a dragon”

W-what? Why did that hurt so much? I was gendered correctly, albeit rudely… But why did not being recognized as a cow hurt so bad? Dragons are cool, so many people I look up to are dragons… Shouldn't I be honored to be considered one?

“Dude what are you talking about?” said another voice.

“That girl over there. Look at her face and she's obviously hiding horns underneath her hoodie. It's all the rage nowadays amongst people like *them.* Thinking that being a dragon will fix all their problems.”

“Whaaa?? Dude that's just crazy”

More talking behind my back that felt like daggers into my shoulders.

“Wait, she's a dragon??”

“I don't think people like that should be allowed in public”

“Yeah what happens if she just up and snaps? I've seen videos about it”

I try to ignore them. They're gendering me correctly. They don't know. But now I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I feel like I'm on a stage. Try as I might their words penetrate any barriers I try to erect. One word keeps permeating the air:

“Dragon”

“Dragon”

“Dragon”

Everything goes white. My ears are ringing. The blood rushes to my face. I can't contain it anymore. I close my eyes and shout “I'M NOT A DRAGON! I'M A COW!”

Silence except for hushed whispers and laughing. I feel a sudden drop in every aspect of myself as my adrenaline plummets. I approach a cashier who does their best to showcase their contempt for me, but I have no strength to defend against their attitude. I pay for my goods and wait outside for my mUver. One thought permeates my mind through the ride: I need to find people like me to talk to.

------------------------------------------

I reached out to the tigress who had followed me earlier. We began talking and I was just happy to have someone who understood my trials. Someone I was finding camaraderie with. After a few days of talking, she presented me with an opportunity: “Hey, so there's a Therian meetup happening in a few days. If you're able to, would you like to attend?”

How could I not?

---------------------------------

I arrived at the place. It was an average looking community center. I walked through to the lobby and with one glance the receptionist gestured me to the hallway to my left. I guess I looked the part. I had decided to forgo my previous attire of baggy clothes and wore something more true to me: A tank top emblazoned with a skull & flowers and some jean shorts.

I walked trepidatiously down the hall. I knew I would be meeting people (animals?) that were traveling the same road of self discovery and expression that I was. I would be meeting the nice tigress whom I had already talked to and formed a rapport. So why was I anxious? I guess it was because, if I alienated even these people, it meant I would truly be alone on this journey.

I found a door with the simple words “Therian Meetup” taped haphazardly to the door. If it wasn't evident by the sign, the noises inside would be a telltale indicator. I opened the door to a cacophony of sights and sounds, yet somehow all pleasing. Animals of all sorts were each having a myriad of conversations amongst themselves and others in makeshift groups.

A lamia was at the far side of the room in a wheelchair. Her scales were a shade of deep blue and shined like sapphires in the light. Her eyes were slit yellow pupils with almost pitch black sclera. “People, pleasssse sssstay on topic” she said in a distressed tone, clearly caught off guard by her own newfound speech pattern. But soon enough she was smiling, joining in with her own insights and interests with one of the ongoing discussions.

To her right was a king cobra looking man, with green hair and brilliant black scales. He was in deep conversation with a horned goat girl. She had white and black fur across the whole of her body and she already had her hooves. Her horns were like mine, visible but clearly still growing in.

On the opposite side of the room was a kind looking man with primarily dark hair, red and blond highlights, black/red striped armbands that ran up to his elbows, and many rose tattoos scattered throughout. He was holding hands with a *very* buff werewolf girl with sharp teeth and hairy forearms. She was enraptured, hanging onto his every word with vigorous nodding and smiling. They were both speaking to a towering snake woman using a walker. She had black scales and green hands, green eyes with gray sclera and rows of sharp teeth. She had a long tongue that lent her to the same speech pattern I heard previously of elongatting her S’s.

Closer to me was a slime girl and an androgynous snake, wearing glasses and using a wheelchair, engaging in banter and laughing fits. The girl had an orange amber tone to both the patches of skin still remaining on her and to her slime. She had bones floating about in her, vestiges of her previous form. She was holding her phone and, her slime unconducive to a touch screen, used a stylus to navigate. She showed the snake something else that caused them to laugh with a hissing sound. Their chuckling was punctuated with the same speech pattern of multiple S’s that I quickly learned was a telltale quirk of the snakes and lamias among the group. Their clawed hands were completely covered in shimmering purple scales that extended, in a patchwork pattern, the length of their arms.

Everyone was having a fun time. Did I really belong with such a group of eclectic happiness? But before I could give such notions a chance to take root, a white furred tigress with faded purple hair started waving to me. It was the same woman who had invited me to this group in the first place. She beckoned me to an open seat between her and… another cow?? And it was the same girl I saw eating a bowl of grass way back when! She had come along so well in her transition. She was a different kind of cow than I was, highland to my jersey. Her hair, a shade of brown with streaks of red, had grown thick over her eyes and her horns were growing magnificently.

I sat between them and the three of us just… simply talked. About memes. About life. About anything. Eventually we all drifted to other conversations to mingle in. I talked to all sorts of animals that day. It was one of the most relaxing yet exciting experiences of my life. I felt comfortable. I felt wanted. I felt like, for the first time in my life, I had found my people.

I had found friends.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Josie's Cow HRT Journey

First|Previous|Next

This was the longest one yet! I never thought that this AnimalHRT thing would connect me with so many wonderful people! Thank you to everyone who has become a part of my life's journey, both in this story and irl.

In no particular order, the people appearing in this story are:

@ariathelamia

@home-sweet-hive

@queenofwerewolves

@starwaycereal

@kontonord

@tigergirltail

@pennymations

@robins-warudo

@sandyca5tle

@thecrystalmountainsystem

[mysteria157]

Moment One: An Old Flame

Rating: Explicit 

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity, explicit sexual content (whole lotta smut, I’m talking: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, creampie…lol you get it).

Word Count: ~6k

Summary: When Nanami has no choice but to work overtime, you bring him dinner as a surprise. But you unexpectedly find his ex-girlfriend already keeping him company. 

Takes place a few weeks after Chapter 15 of It Had To Be You!

Notes: I had this idea way back when I wrote chapter 15 weeks ago and I finally made it a reality last night LOL. I don’t have a beta reader, so sometimes there may be a mistake or two. I have a habit of being way too detailed when I write, and that includes smut. So hopefully you enjoy it! 

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

Those Moments In Between Masterlist | Moment Two

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

MINORS DNI

Nanami knows better.

He knows that his ex-girlfriend, Pia, is just as devious as she was when they were in undergrad. 

When they were younger and together, she gave sweetness and tender love that made Nanami stick around a bit longer than he should have. Though they had nothing in common and she was far too outgoing, she helped him embrace many different things that were normally out of his comfort zone.

She taught him how to express public displays of affection in his own way. She taught him how to express what he felt when it came to romantic love. 

He was grateful for it. Truly.

Indirectly, her personality only made him realize just how ill-suited they were for one another despite her good intentions.

Pia was spiteful to those who disagreed with her, disrespectful to those who did not have the same values as her, and outlandishly rude to those who came on to Nanami. She covered it all up with smiles, jokes as a means of apology, and an innocent glint in her eyes that Nanami at the time, didn't have the experience to see through.

Gojo had tried to warn him, year after year.

But he was young--his disdain for Gojo was five thousand times more intense than it is now--so Nanami treated everything that fell from Gojo's lips as a ploy to annoy anyway. 

Nanami remained oblivious to her behavior, caught in the haze of young love, until their final year of college.

That haze had gradually become easier to sift through. The complaints from his friends finally began to register in his mind. Then, one day between classes, a significant moment allowed him to finally blink away the fog.

Every action that he had once dismissed, enticed by the flutter of her lashes and the touch of her lips, rose to the surface from an ocean of naivety--loud and unfiltered.

He despised himself for having to come to the painful realization that Gojo had been right all along. 

Nanami allowed Gojo to mock him for a week before reverting to his habit of telling him to shut up unless he had something meaningful to contribute to their conversations. 

Despite feeling embarrassed and heartbroken, he cut ties--clean and simple--moved on with his life, and never heard from her again.

Until now, that is, as she is currently in Nakameguro for a project to market her wine enterprise. She specifically chose his company to assist in expanding her business in the Japanese market, and he despises every minute of it. 

Pia clearly wants to make up for lost time because she goes to great lengths to be close to him. 

She has a habit of discreetly slipping into the elevator just before it closes, coincidentally finding herself alone with Nanami every time. With a simple smile and a polite greeting, she faces the front and they ride in silence, but with every encounter, she subtly edges closer and closer to him. 

Like clockwork, without fail, she makes a point to peek into his office every morning, disregarding his attempt to keep the door closed. She greets him, extends an invitation to lunch—an invitation he consistently declines—and continues with her day. 

Being a recluse by nature, he rarely leaves his office except for coffee runs to the breakroom or when Yuji relentlessly calls for his presence. But with Pia’s presence, he can hardly focus when she’s around. He refuses to engage in conversation or give her an opening to pursue him romantically. Because he knows she will. So now he makes Yuji come to him and will bring his own coffee from home. 

He chooses not to confide in you about his struggles.

You had only met her once, but it was more than enough. Because to you, Pia is overwhelmingly beautiful, with a well-traveled life and wealth. You are an amateur ceramic artist with modest savings, a mother that you can’t stand, and a body that had recently been stretched and marked by childbirth.

You thought Kento deserved better—deserved someone like Pia. 

You were grappling with the overwhelming responsibilities of taking care of Ulani, trying your best to navigate through postpartum depression in a healthy way, and coming to terms with a body that seemed alien to you.

So the sight of Pia for the first time, radiant and flaunting a badge of honor for dating Nanami, did nothing but throw you into a deep pit of insecurity.

Kento lifted you out of that dark place, demonstrated to you again—without fail—how devoted he was to you then and always.

He made it abundantly clear that he was yours. 

He’s determined to never make you feel unsure of yourself again. 

So it's not a big deal. She’s just a nuisance that he has to dodge for the next week. 

Just another week until she goes back to Italy where she—hopefully—will never return.

What’s the worst that can happen?

It turns out, a lot.

He tries to stay one step ahead, deliberately exchanging a brief greeting with her in the lobby to prevent her from slithering into his office. He even waits until the office is deserted, and the day is nearly over before stepping into the elevator. 

He doesn’t know how he got out scot-free, but Friday rolls around and he thinks that he just might pull this off.

But Yaga chooses today of all days to ask Nanami to stay behind to consolidate a few contracts that only Nanami—unfortunately—has access to. In normal circumstances, Nanami would decline and suggest pushing it off until Monday.

It’s even more unfortunate because he has plans tonight. He wants to help you make dinner and spend time with his daughter and he shouldn’t even have to think about excuses because he hates overtime. But, the consolidation is due Monday, and he wants to get it done now so that he can avoid the hassle later on.

You don’t sound upset when he calls you to break the news. Your usually calm voice is slightly downcast with a gentle sigh that you think he can’t hear.

“I guess it’s rare so I shouldn’t be mad but,” you complain weakly, your words tinged with a slight whine that makes Nanami smirk to himself. “I made Katsudon.” 

He groans, mouth instantly watering at the mere thought. 

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, my love. I promise.” 

You grumble a reply that makes him chuckle, a tender sound resonating deep in his chest as he listens to you tell him that you love him before hanging up the phone.

***

It’s seven o’clock and he’s fighting a migraine. But he’s almost done, and he’s determined to finish the last stack of contracts that require organizing before he can make his way home to you and Ulani.

As he pens his signature on the bottom of one contract, there’s a knock on his office door, prompting him to invite them in—assuming it’s merely the janitor since everyone else on the floor left hours ago. 

That’s all he thinks to himself; he focuses his attention on yet another clause, preparing to initial his name on the side when everything comes to a screeching halt. 

Because standing before him isn’t the janitor—it’s Pia.

Pia, clad in a tight black dress that not only defies workplace etiquette but also starkly contrasts the one she wore earlier in the day.  

Earlier that day, he followed her every movement as she got into her car and drove away, silently relieved that he could finally relax. Yet, here she is; her dark brown wavy hair hanging over her shoulder in a manner far too seductive for his comfort, and black heels clutched in her hands instead of adorning her feet.

It takes him only a second to assess how quickly he can maneuver past her without a word. He will take the steps if he has to, or maybe he can grab the remaining contracts and finish the rest at home and—

“Gojo always mentions how you never stay late anymore, so I’m surprised to see you here,” she purrs, her Italian accent grating against his ears, exacerbating his throbbing migraine behind his eyes. Her lust-filled, indecent intentions taint her dark brown eyes, reinforcing the strong urge within him to leave, quickly. 

He’s not the type of man to belittle a woman’s appearance because they all possess their own beauty. His mother hammered that among other things about the respect of women deep into his skull before he hit puberty. But he’s well-mannered enough to acknowledge beauty and let the line be drawn there—because other women aren’t you, and he doesn’t have a wandering eye. 

He never has and he never will.

“Is there a reason why you are here, Pia?” he questions, discreetly binding the stack of contracts together so he can swiftly grab them along with his blazer and push her out of the way if he has to. “Your project finished at the end of the business day, so I assumed you would be on your way back to Italy.”

She scoffs a deep and guttural noise that makes Nanami’s stomach twirl in distaste and intensifies the pounding behind his eyes. “You know exactly why I’m here, Kento. Don’t be dull. You never were back then, and you aren’t now.”

His stomach churns, the knots tightening with each passing moment between them. The tension becomes unbearable, culminating in a swift rise from his seat as he retrieves his blazer behind his large, deep red chair.

“You need to leave,” he demands, his voice devoid of the polite courtesy he had extended to her during her visit. He tucks the contracts beneath an arm, grabs his car keys, and makes for the door—but she’s quick to sidestep so her frame blocks his path. 

Irritation surges within him, an emotion that others—excluding you—are keen to elicit when they begin to waste his time. 

“Pia, please move out of the way so that I can go home.”

She arches a perfectly groomed eyebrow, adding to the torment coursing through his stomach. “So you’re saying you don’t even want to talk? It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, and you’ve done nothing but avoid me during my entire stay.” Her whiny, petulant tone and childlike frown only serve to trigger flashbacks to times when she didn’t get her way, intensifying the deep divide that caused their separation.

“And you don’t understand the reason why?” he retorts, irritation heavier and thick in his mouth. A frown etches itself onto his lips, and his patience dissipates in the tense air encircling them. 

A noise in the lobby—a noise that implies someone can be listening—makes his heart stammer in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck rise. 

While she has an agenda, he does not. He refuses to allow others to lose respect for him in this office, thinking he indulges in infidelity during his free time when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He couldn’t care less about others’ opinions, except when it involves you and your relationship—that’s where he draws the line. 

Unaffected by his sarcastic remark, she delicately places a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. He’s quick to react, catching her wrist in a way that makes his blazer fall to the floor, pulling her hand away from him as his body begins to shake in frustration.

 “I don’t know where you’ve gotten the impression that I want anything with you, but I won’t be entertaining it. What we had was a long time ago and it won’t ever be reignited again. Try your best to understand that,” he states firmly.

“But—” she begins to protest.

“Enough, Pia. Leave. Now.” 

He isn’t asking nicely anymore, his head pounding, and the decision to simply push her out of the way is made. Just as he prepares to do so, the door swings open, and the person he longs to see the most but also wishes wasn’t here right now, rushes in.

“Ken, I thought I could bring you dinner and—” you stop mid-sentence, words wedged in your throat as you take in the scene in front of you. You’re holding a Tupperware container, the steam inside condensing along the edges.

Nanami with papers under one arm and the other dropping from a delicate wrist to flop down at his side, his hair disheveled from hours of musing, his face clearly disturbed. And Pia, beautiful and ethereal as usual as she whips around to look at you. 

Since that first day you met her, you haven’t encountered Pia again. And Kento’s unwavering loyalty and trust have provided no reason to entertain the thought of her. 

However, Nanami’s stiff stature, Pia’s tight dress that reveals a bit too much in the front, and the stiletto heels swinging from her finger in one hand make it abundantly clear to you why she is here. 

At seven o’clock at night.

With no one else around.

You want to shy away from the implication, to fend off your surprise with a shy chuckle, and let the poisonous current of insecurity draw you away like that time before. But Nanami had skillfully put those doubts to rest weeks ago. 

Now you’re just irritated.

“Pia? What are you doing here?” You keep your tone light, masking the annoyance bubbling inside you. Pia’s earlier sultry gaze has vanished, replaced by widened eyes and hands smoothing her already unwrinkled dress, anxiously. “Kento told me the project ended a few hours ago. Aren’t you flying back to Italy soon?”

She fumbles, her rose-tinted lips curling as she searches for something to say, gripping her heels tighter in her hand. It’s reminiscent of watching a child scrambling for an excuse after being caught with their hands in a cookie jar.

Nanami remains silent, astonished. In the past, any other woman daring to breathe his air while Pia was present would have been met with scathing words and threats. But now, that Pia is desperately trying to produce an excuse for her late presence within a workplace when she she should be on a flight home.

“She was just leaving, love,” Nanami interjects, trying his best to make the situation as simple as it can be. Pia agrees, blushing and nodding, hastily slipping her heels back on with hands seemingly covered in sweat.

Watching her struggle to secure her heels, her fingers slipping on the buckle, reignites a surge of confidence deep within you. The once persistent insecurity in her presence now feels like a mere joke. In this moment, she becomes the joke. 

And you want to savor every minute of it.

The next words spill from your mouth, impossible to contain. You wiggle the small Tupperware container in your hands, gesturing towards her and offering a shy but satisfied smile.

“I was just bringing my husband dinner,” you chuckle airily, the lie slipping from your lips with ease. You relish the reaction from them both. Pia’s hands slip on her heel strap, causing her to stumble. Nanami struggles to contain his composure, eyes wide as saucers, his breath caught in his throat as your words ring in his ears like a piercing siren.

“Kento is the only one on this floor, it’s awfully late and I doubt you would have left earlier without saying goodbye. Surely you—” you pause, pretending to be taken aback before leveling an accusatory gaze at her. She looks up from her hunched position, hands still fumbling with the straps of her heels, her eyes wide and beautifully tan skin appearing pale. You’re not one for pettiness, but the delight from the sight of her struggling courses through your veins. “Surely you’re not here with the intention to do something else, are you?” 

“No!” she quickly retorts, her voice both loud and tinged with a hint of nervousness that makes the corner of your lip twitch. “No of course not—”

“So what are you doing here?” you cut her off with a narrowing of your eyes, repeating your question from earlier with a touch less feigned innocence, your tone slightly more serious and impatient. 

“L-leaving actually! Just wanted to say goodbye to Kento before my flight in the morning,” she stammers, now standing three inches taller, maintaining an air of elegance and grace even as her embarrassment paints her cheeks red.

She hastily bids Nanami farewell—a choked and tight goodbye—, a lopsided and anxious smile directed at you, and stumbles once more as she hurriedly exits the room, a snort of amusement escaping your lips as she trips before disappearing from your sight.

You close the door behind her, shutting away her presence for good.

The room falls into silence, Nanami’s face turning a vibrant shade of red that forces you to suppress your laughter with every ounce of effort you can muster.

“Love, I can explain—,” he begins, but you promptly cut him off, a giggle escaping despite your best attempts to hold it back. 

You know he would never do anything. Nanami would probably take infinite shifts of overtime instead of letting a woman who was not you touch him. In fact, you heard the entire conversation before you rushed in, and it makes your heart flutter with love that is already overflowing for him. 

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles.

But it’s so funny to watch him squirm, his face burning even more and his movements awkward as he clutches the bundle of disheveled contracts in his hand. His expressions of frustration and his furrowed brow only serve to ignite a warmth in your stomach. 

You love to tease him. And now you’ve been given the perfect opportunity to make him sweat.

“There’s no need to explain, Ken. I’m just messing with you,” you reassure him, taking his free hand and gently pulling him back to his desk. Turning to face his still-nervous figure, you retrieve the papers from his grasp and place them neatly on his large mahogany desk. 

“I heard the entire conversation. I am curious though,” you begin, pressing him down into his chair. He’s silent as he watches you push the chair back a little, so you have room to stand between him and his desk. “What do you think she would have done if I hadn’t come in time?”

“Absolutely nothing because I don’t—” he starts, but his words are abruptly cut off by the touch of your hand gliding against the fabric of his chest. Unlike Pia’s touch, your fingertips radiate heat and beckon him in a way that has his cock twitching in his slacks. His heart skips a beat as he watches your own manicured nails circle the buttons of his dress shirt before undoing them quickly. “We can’t—”

“Why?” you interrupt, your voice low and hot, instantly drying up his throat. Your fingertips dance along the exposed skin of his chest, gently teasing him as your nail flicks against a pink nipple before trailing down between the contours of his abs. You tap your fingers along the downy hair that trails under his slack and his stomach bunches in response, twitching from the stimulation, his heart skipping and his throat tightening slowly. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

He doesn’t. God, he doesn’t, and the words ‘no’ are out of his mouth before he can stop them, giving you his consent even though he’s embarrassed out of his mind. His migraine becomes an insignificant thought, the pulsing from earlier falling into a slow ebb, eclipsed by the escalating desire coursing through his veins. 

Nanami has never been the type of man to do this sort of thing. While he likes to be inside you anytime he can, he cherishes the privacy that safeguards both himself and you, more. 

But he can’t lie to himself that the thought of something happening in this office with you hasn’t crossed his mind multiple times—especially when you used to work together.

The sound of you undoing his belt buckle has his heart racing, thumping loud and heavy in his chest and his face is on fire as he watches you release him from the confines of his pants, his cock already hard and leaking. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down and finding it difficult to contain your own desire from the sight of him. The area between your legs throbs as you trace your eyes down a cock that you’re intimately familiar with. Warm and achingly heavy, leaking with anticipation and pleading for your touch. His abs tense with a sharp intake of breath as you wrap your hand around him, a pleasurable hiss escaping his throat as he watches you stroke him languidly. 

You press your free hand into the arm of his chair, leaning in until your lips are mere inches apart. Inhaling his ragged breaths, you admire the way his deep brown eyes blow out, leaving only a ring of burnt umber for you to gaze into. 

Your grip on him has his mind foggy, desire overtaking any rational thoughts that he would normally use right about now. 

But you’re so good. 

You’re curling your wrist with every upward stroke just the way he loves and his abs bunch with every jolt of pleasure that zips inside of him.

He has to touch you, has to get his hands on you in some way to ground himself, and he instinctively reaches out for you when suddenly you tsk, pulling back slightly to create more distance between your lips.

“No touching.”

Oh.

You never deny him when you’re both like this. You always want his hands on you. The fact that you’re now denying him, gazing at him with a dangerous look in your eyes, shocks him. And it arouses him to a degree that makes him choke on a breath. 

He sags back into his chair, gasping for breath when your hands trail down to cup his balls. He digs his fingers into the chair’s armrests, scratching red leather, and he’s desperate to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Did you—did you lock the door?” he manages to gasp, grasping onto any shred of coherent thought he has left.

You tilt your head in confusion, gaze at him with an indifferent stare, and then shrug nonchalantly before sagging down to your knees in front of him. The sight makes his toes curl in his expensive Chukka boots.

The rational part of his mind urges him to get up and check the door. Just get up and make sure the door is at least locked before anything else—but then his thoughts are short-circuiting and stuttering as your tongue slides wet up his shaft and you swallow him down to the base without a care in the world.

The back of his head slams against the cushioned chair as a surge of pleasure courses through his veins. You’re wet and sloppy, teasing him with your gaze as your mouth stretches from the thickness of him—and he’s struggling to hold on, struggling to keep his orgasm at bay even though it’s right there.

He tries to reach for you—tries to card his hands through your hair but you smack it away and glare at him with such a ferocity that he’s embarrassed for even attempting. 

Marketing templates. Morning traffic. A cold cup of coffee. 

He thinks of everything he can to resist the warmth in his stomach and the coil tightening along his spine; because you suck his cock in a way that makes him fidget in his chair, humming and gurgling into his ears in a wicked melody that’s making him go insane.

You’re enjoying every second of this and it only makes him blush harder with just how exposed he is to you right now. The mere weight of his cock in your mouth and the slightly salty taste of him makes your panties damp, your cunt pulsating and aching to be filled. 

And you’ll make sure it happens.

So you patiently wait until he’s panting harshly, his grip on the arm of his chair growing tighter and tighter. You wait until that crazed look dances in his eyes—the one you’re so familiar with right before he cums. And right when he’s on the cusp, you pull away. 

He exhales hard and sinks into his chair almost in relief as the band inside of him relaxes slightly, desperately trying to catch his breath and hissing as the cold air of his office wraps around his wet cock.

“Pia really did have a plan, didn’t she?” you playfully tease, standing to card your fingers through his blonde locks. Your fingertips glide across the faint traces of sweat, your hand moving along with the shake of his head in response to you, his gaze unfocused.

You kick off your shoes, hook your thumbs into the corner of your leggings, and slide them down and off your legs—his eyes following every inch of creamy brown skin that is revealed to him. 

You’re wearing an oversized sweater, a soft cashmere that he got you simply because he wanted, and it now covers your faint stretch-marked thighs. They are your battle scars, your own reminders of the journey your body underwent to grow and birthed the beautiful daughter you both have now.

His breath falters as he watches you gracefully perch on his large desk, placing your legs on top and bending your knees so your fuzzy sock-covered feet press against the rich mahogany. Leaning back on one arm, you effortlessly open your legs for him. His naturally narrow eyes widen at the sight of your white damp panties, and he longs to lick, suck, and slide his cock inside the very place they conceal.

The glint in your eyes is mischievous and taunting, delighting in the way he struggles to stay seated even as you slide one of your hands down into your panties.

“Can I—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“No.” 

You leave no room for argument and don’t offer anything else as you begin to circle your clit leisurely, arching into the touch as echoes of pleasure hum to life. It’s not long before you’re pushing your panties to the side to expose yourself to the open air. Your cunt throbs with desire when you hear Nanami groan softly under his breath. 

You’ve never been this bold, never entertained the thought of anything voyeuristic. But Nanami seems to awaken something within you, something you’re slowly embracing. He’s so shy about sex outside of the privacy of your home, and it only makes this more exciting that he’s even entertaining it now.

“Did she do this with you?” you ask him, your voice breathless as you sink two fingers into your wet cunt. The corner of Nanami’s eye twitches from the sight and you swallow down a giggle that threatens to escape. “Did she ever make you watch her while she touched herself?” 

You moan softly as you curl your fingers up as best as you can from your angle. Nanami’s fingers dig into the leather of his chair with barely contained restraint. 

“Answer me, Kento.”

“No. She didn’t.”

Satisfied with his answer, a sense of pride flaps in your chest, and you gleefully continue fingering yourself in front of him. It always takes you a while to get off with your fingers, so you use that as ammunition to watch Nanami squirm. 

You watch the way his exposed muscular pectorals move with his increasing breaths. You watch the way his cock twitches, hot and heavy against his stomach, leaking precum onto his abs. And you soak up the way he traces his eyes along every inch of you, leaving nothing without his attention.

When you finally cum, sharp and abrupt, he’s hanging on by a thread—ready to abandon your command to be still, yank you to him, and sink inside. 

He watches your cunt flutter around your fingers as you slowly come down from your high, gasping like an angel into the office air. Breathless, you stand on shaky legs and move to stand before him, lifting slick-covered fingers to his mouth which he readily opens without command, desperate to taste you any time he can. He groans softly against your fingers, eyes drooping, tongue sliding wet between your digits. The sight makes your cunt throb weakly, faint embers that had just died down, licking to life again.

You taste like everything to him, everything he wants and everything he needs.

But it’s not on the menu tonight.

You straddle his lap wordlessly and smack his hands away when he tries to wrap large hands around your waist. He swallows his frustration, yearning to touch you, yet willing to comply for the promise of more.

Using the remnants of your arousal between your legs, you coat him, stroking him enough to make sure you take him effortlessly, and then you guide him to your entrance and sink down to the hilt. The feel of him inside you is glorious, stretching you in the way you like that makes your cunt tremble to life around him, grateful for his presence once again. 

“Fuck,” he hisses—chokes with eyes squeezed shut, hand gripping the chair until it groans. You’re so wet, so fucking warm and tight that he’s shaking--practically trembling and swallowing a whimper as he fights the urge to grab your hips.

You didn’t need much to get used to him. You’re a masochist when he stretches you—you crave the way your cunt tenses from the intrusion, gripping him like a vice.

You’re a champ, enveloping him and giving him little time to acclimate before you’re bouncing on his cock with a finesse that would make any woman jealous.

You slide both hands into the hair at his nape and pull so that he cranes his neck back to gaze up at you. He’s slack-jawed, panting with breaths that tickle your lips, his eyes heavy with desire. 

“Did she ever fuck you like this, hmm? Come into your office when you would work long hours and ride you until you couldn’t see straight?” 

He can only shake his head ‘no’ in response, his throat too dry to speak, his lungs burning. He craves your touch, your lips on him, something to anchor him as he struggles to keep up. It’s the only way he can stay sane when the neurons in his brain are frying by the second. He begs wordlessly, groans deeply up into your mouth, pleading for anything.

And thankfully, you grant him a searing kiss. Your lips mold against his, tongues battling for dominance that he willingly surrenders to. His every thrust hits that perfect spot within you, brushing away hints of oversensitivity and bringing forth faint pleasure that makes you dig your hands into blond tresses and pull tight.

The pleasure caresses the insides of your thighs and tightens the muscles of your legs. Every brush of your clit against the skin of his abs shoots electricity throughout your cunt and up to the base of your spine, igniting a simmering fire that begins to heat deep pools of lava that reside there.

You pull away from his lips with a harsh moan, gasping into the warm air of his office, riding him harder to the point that the legs of his chair begin to squeak.

He knows you well. He knows how you get demanding and delirious and incoherent when you ride him, and he loves to count the seconds until that switch in your brain goes off. And it’s not even a second later when—

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. So, so good,” you moan against the skin of his lips. “Fucking me just the way I like Ken.”

He watches every move you make, tracing his eyes over the contours of your face and the way your loose curls cling to creamy brown cheeks.

His eyes roll when he picks up your whispered chants. You’re a woman possessed and you take what you want—when you want. And he gives and gives with every yes, yes, more Ken, you’re so good, please, please, please yes!

Your pupils are blown and glazed over with desire, but suddenly your brows furrow in frustration. 

“She walked in here in a tight dress and high heels looking to get you in the same position that I have you now. But at the end of the day, you’re mine.”

There’s not an ounce of coyness in your words. You’re so serious, firm, and unyielding that it makes him shudder, a groan sliding from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and—

“Look at me,” you command, voice low, panting from exertion and the feel of your body beginning to draw tight with embers of a powerful orgasm. His eyes roll back without hesitation, locking with yours. “Unless—unless some other circumstance tears us apart, you—you are mine. Pia can have all the money and fame, but she will never have you. I do.”

“Yes,” he whispers, the word tumbling from his lips without faltering. His hips struggle to keep up and his thighs begin to stiffen as pleasure begins to curl deliciously so that his hands dig into the chair. His fingers slip against the leather, sweaty and tingling.

“You’re the father of my child.”

“Yes,” he chants again, breathless and quivering as the rubber band along his spine grows taught, stretching and shaking from the tension.

“You sleep next to me. You kiss me. You fuck me.”

“Yes, only you—only you.”

You tremble from his words, satisfaction oozing like hot thick globs along your skin. “That’s right, Kento,” you purr as your hips begin to roll against him, your clit carrying currents of pleasure through your veins, that pool of lava at the base of your spine boiling and rising to the brim.

“Please,” he whispers, his plea pulling you from your desire-induced haze. You look down at him, admire the flush of his cheeks, the warmth of his breath against the collarbone of your sweater, the sweat that beads along his hairline. “Please.”

“Please what?” you tease, trying to maintain a playful demeanor even though your hips are beginning to ache from overuse. You come to a stop on top of him, your breaths mingling together.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, always gentle and caring, even when he’s bursting from the seams. You love him so fucking much.

“Will you make me cum?”

“Always,” he responds without hesitation, his words filled with conviction. You lean in, pressing your lips against his, savoring the affection he willingly gives you. When you pull away, you brush thick blonde locks from his forehead, exposing more of his sharp features that will never fail to make your heart race.

“Then touch me, Ken,” you whisper, your voice laced with desire and anticipation.

Without wasting a moment, he swiftly lifts you in his arms, his cock still nestled inside as he carries you towards his desk.

Your breath catches as you stare up at him, the sound of papers scattering to the floor filling the air. He pulls your sweater up, revealing every inch of your faintly stretch-marked belly, before tugging down a cup of your bra, heady eyes watching as one of your breasts spills from its confines. 

He’s too fast. You fumble for words and let out a surprised yelp when he yanks your waist toward the edge of the desk. He presses your knees as close to your chest as you will allow, and then he slams into you once—and then twice before picking up a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

He devours you, tongue flicking and swirling wet and dripping around your exposed nipple as he pounds into you unabashedly, the desk squeaking and groaning from his efforts.

All bravado that you had earlier splinters away with each smack of his muscular hips against you, the skin of his abs brushing against your clit deliciously, coaxing moan after moan from your lips. His tongue flicks your nipple again before he bites the hardened bud, and your cunt flutters—clenches around him, your thighs beginning to twitch even though they’re pressed to your chest.

“I’m all yours. Always yours,” he whispers against your lips, blonde tresses gliding against your cheeks.

You hope there’s no one on this floor, or that no one has decided to come back for something because the last thing they need to hear is Nanami Kento, Director of Strategic Partnerships, railing his girlfriend on his over-priced, too-large mahogany desk.

You can barely breathe, your moans growing in pitch, the sound of skin on skin echoing through his office, your hands sliding up to dig fingers into the skin of his back. You don’t even have the chance to tell him you’re close. 

The stroke of him inside you, the slap of his skin against your bundle of nerves, and the feel of his mouth trailing along the sweaty column of your neck with a deep and heavy cum for me baby breaks the seal inside of you.

The lava boils over—pools along your bones, hot and delicious and caressing every nerve ending within you, your cunt squeezing him without remorse. You can’t help the loud moan that shakes from your lips, growing in pitch when the pleasure seems to spike and overheat you in oversensitivity, your entire body tingling and shaking like an exposed nerve.

Nanami takes every ounce of pleasure you offer. Everything, every part of you is precious—treasured in a way that no one else will ever be able to comprehend. He takes every breath, every hitch in your throat, every droplet of sweat on your skin, every whimper and moan and scratch of your nails against him. He savors it all—needs it to survive, to know that you have chosen him, that you want him, that you love him.

You’re the only woman who makes Pia tremble and stumble over her words. You are a force to be reckoned with, and he knew that the moment you snapped at him when you first met. You’re fierce in the way you love, strong with the words you say, and so fucking beautiful that he cant help but feel proud of just how threatened Pia was by the sight of you.

Those words you spoke confidently to her have played like a record in his head since you forced him into his chair.

“I was just bringing my husband some dinner.”

My husband.

My husband.

He’s thought about it, so many fucking times. And he swears it will happen. Soon.

One day you’ll be his wife.

His wife.

His wife.

His thoughts come to a sudden halt because he’s cumming, catching him off guard, that rubber band snapping in half, pleasure yanking from the base of his spine and pulling a harsh groan from his chest as he spills inside of you.

His hands slip from behind your knees and smack onto the wood of his desk and you wrap your legs around his waist as you both regain your breath. He’s putty against you, melted and loose and molding against every crevice of you as he takes in your intoxicating scent. Lilac from your body wash, shea butter from your lotion, and a hint of cooking grease that wafted onto your skin when you made dinner.

Your fingers lovingly comb through his sweaty hair, your legs blissfully achy, your cunt satisfied and throbbing, and your heart coming to normal sinus rhythm in your chest.

“Ome is probably wondering where I am,” you finally speak, breaking the tranquil silence of his office. “She offered to watch Ulani when I left.” Nanami hums against you, a low and gravelly sound that’s typical of him when he’s ready to go to sleep. “Bring the rest of the contracts home. No more overtime.”

As if he would even entertain the thought of being in this office a moment longer. “Okay,” he agrees, pressing his lips to your neck. He still has his arms around you, still connected to you despite having softened inside you minutes ago. 

But you don’t mind. You cherish these moments with him, holding them dear in your heart, knowing that each one is a gift.

Because you’re the only one who can revel in the way he needs you, the way he craves having his hands on you, the way he murmurs his adoration into your skin. And you love every bit of it. You love him.

“Will she be back?” you ask, a hint of hesitance in your tone.

He shakes his head, groaning softly as you scratch that spot behind his ear. “No. Never.”

“She better not,” you jest, an eyebrow lifting to the ceiling, gazing at no one. “If she pulls shit like that again, there won’t be a happy ending for you.”

He barks out a laugh against your neck, lifting his head to take in your blissed-out form. Fatigue weighs heavy on your eyes, your lashes delicately curled, your hair spread out on his desk to make you look like the most otherworldly thing he has—will ever see. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

He kisses you tenderly once and then twice, before resting his head against your chest, the soft cashmere of your sweater caressing his cheek. His eyes catch something on the corner of his desk.

The Tupperware of food that you brought still emits steam, a homemade Katsudon by your hands, just for him.

His heart thrums in his chest, full and filled with warmth.

His wife.

Soon.

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