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noosayog · 7 months

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002 get him back!

✧ wc: 4k

✧ warnings/content: miya osamu x fem!reader, sfw, fake dating au, angst to fluff,

✧ GUTS masterlist, regular masterlist

divider from @/cafekitsune

It all started when Miya Atsumu said that you would never be able to find anyone who could put up with you. And you would have taken that with a grain of salt, if Miya Atsumu wasn't your ex who also happened to be a thorough asshole.

“Well you dated me didn’t you?!”

“And we broke up, duh.” he says flippantly.

You clam up at that. You know he’s just saying things. He doesn’t mean it and he’s a complete moron. But it’s been almost a year since the break-up and not a single man has even offered to buy you a drink. Are you going to have to resort to making a Hinge profile?

–

“I don’t know why ya let him get to ya. He’s just a moron,” Osamu says.

“You have to say that, he’s your brother,” you grumble.

“True. But he is an idiot.”

You plop your face heavily into the elbow resting on the counter and blow raspberries in one big exhale.

“Don’t get yer spit all over where my customers eat.”

You grunt, turning over to watch Osamu work behind the counter.

“Do you think I’m unlovable?” you ask.

“Huh?”

“There must be a reason no one’s asked me out on a date in the past 8 months, right?”

Osamu sighs, dropping off a plate of food in front of you. “I’m not gonna answer that.” Then he turns with his back facing you to fiddle with something on the other side of the kitchen.

“Why not?”

He exhales through his nose, quiet, but you hear it.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the door swings open to reveal Osamu’s twin. You jolt up, fixing your posture, self-conscious about letting Atsumu think his words are getting to you.

And rightfully so because Atsumu acts like a shark that smells blood. His lips curl up into what he thinks is a smirk, but resembles much more of a snarl.

“What’s up with ya,” he asks oh-so-innocently.

You have no good response and feel your face heating up in embarrassment when Osamu swoops in.

“Are ya gonna sit down or just block my door? ‘Cause I got people that actually pay to eat here.”

Atsumu starts yelling something at Osamu but simmers down into the seat next to you and mumbles something to himself, no doubt some choice words for his brother. It gives you momentary reprieve from Atsumu’s provocation which is the last thing you need right now with your self-esteem in the dumps.

The break is temporary though, because like a true creature with short-term memory and a propensity for being a prick, Atsumu circles back to the topic when he’s done eating.

“So, found a guy to take you out?”

“What makes you think I’d answer that question,” you bite back. Weak, but it’s all you have.

“Hah,” he scoffs. “I knew it. Ya can’t find anyone.”

You feel the irritation boiling like a witch’s cauldron inside of you, brewing a mix of resentment, mortification, and the tiniest streak of competitiveness. Atsumu not shutting up for the rest of the night is the final ingredient that makes your red hot concoction boil over. It goes a bit like this:

“Tell me if ya want me to set ya up with someone from the team. Might be the only chance ya get at this rate,” he teases.

“No thanks,” you hiss. “I’ll have you know that I’m dating Osamu, widely known as the better Miya.” You point smugly at Osamu whose back is currently to you both.

“What!” Atsumu yells. “Osamu? And you?”

With Osamu’s back to you, you can’t see his face, but all your fingers and toes are crossed that he’ll play along so that you don’t burn up in a gas of complete humiliation.

When Osamu turns around, his eyes go to you first. They search yours for something – what, you don’t know. He apparently finds it because he blinks away and tells his brother to mind his own business, neither denying nor validating your claim.

It might as well be confirmation though, because Atsumu squawks in indignation, sputtering his disbelief. Osamu continues to bicker with his brother, keeping him occupied enough to not realize that he was slowly being backed out of the restaurant.

When Osamu slams the door on Atsumu and twists the lock in a dramaticized show of finality, Atsumu finally gives up, yelling a muffled “I’ll be back.” through the windows. You could laugh at the duo if Osamu didn’t turn around and fix you with a look, similar to that of a responsible older brother scolding a child.

“Now yer turn. What was that about?”

“Osamu! You heard the way he was talking to me. I just can’t stand it!”

“Have ya thought this through? How’s this supposed to end, huh? We break up and Atsumu goes back to making fun of ya?”

You open your mouth to beg, because it’s always worked with Osamu. He always gives in. But he’s not done, apparently.

“‘Least ya could’ve done is ask me out, not use me to get through yer petty grudge with ‘Tsumu.”

That shuts you up. When you look at Osamu, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are downcast, distracting himself by wiping up the counter. It’s so brief that you convince yourself that you imagined the hurt in his voice.

“‘Samu…”

“Forget it. I’ll do it, but ya better have it thought out because I’m not helping ya anymore than this.”

It should be a win and any other time, you would wrap him up in a bear hug and shower him with thanks, but the defeated way Osamu concedes makes you solemnly finish your meal. It feels unfitting to say thank you.

–

Your first stint as Osamu’s girlfriend comes in the form of a friend’s dinner party. Since the night you forced Osamu to be your boyfriend, you have been back at Onigiri Miya to hang out, but have painfully tiptoed around the topic. The thought has occurred to you that you and Osamu should agree upon a backstory, but you haven’t had the courage to breach the topic after the way Osamu reacted.

He had just nodded when you asked him to attend this dinner party with you. And with that, he had dutifully picked you up at your apartment, perfectly on time. You had expected a stone-faced Osamu all night, but he had surprised you with a sweet smile, one that you’re used to being on the receiving end of. But it somehow feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s supposed to be smiling at you as your lover tonight. It was easy, the way he had held out his arm for you, no awkwardness in sight.

At dinner, Osamu makes no move to let go of your hand, going as far as to intertwine your fingers under the table. When any one asks how the two of you began dating, he squeezes to tell you he’ll handle this. You’re grateful and you feel undeservingly spoiled as you watch him. He looks around the room, drifts his gaze back to you where his lips flicker upwards for the tiniest second, then looks back at the crowd to flash a mysterious, close-lipped smile. You can barely hear the dinner table go wild with jeers and Atsumu squawking as you gawk at Osamu’s act.

And it goes on.

As you eat, he keeps your fingers clasped between his, laid on his lap. Atsumu gives you two the stink-eye, questioning why Osamu was eating with his left hand. You’re pretty sure your eyes are bulging out of your head at this point, because Osamu flushes. Osamu is blushing as he reluctantly lets go of your hand, making a show out of placing your hand back on your own lap and mumbling a heavily-accented apology at no one in particular.

–

When dinner finally ends, the party migrates to the living room. Osamu doesn’t need to ask, perfectly picking your favorite after-dinner drink of choice as he chooses a beer for himself. He has once again claimed your hand in his. His grip is tight and when you try to slip your hand out to get some space, he holds tighter.

You lean up to whisper in his ear, “Osamu, my hands are sweaty.”

He leans down to hear you better, but stands back up when he registers your comment. He ignores you, only squeezing twice, as if telling you to behave for him. Your head spins; you’ve never dated like this before.

Being with Atsumu was like living in a comically unrealistic sit-com, like you were constantly finding yourself in situations and having conversations that belong in a Tom and Jerry episode. He argued with you about everything, had an ego, and a temper. A particularly memorable moment was when he was still courting you, trying to convince you to date him by saying, “I’m six foot two.”

“Dude, nice try,” you had said.

But somehow, right now, with Osamu standing by your side and towering over you, you think that if this younger twin used that line on you right now, you’d fold in half for him. As if you wouldn’t with all the sweet nothings he’s lavished on you in this one night.

He only lets you get away when you embarrassingly whisper to him that you need a bathroom break.

“I’ll walk with ya.”

“No!” you exclaim. You lower your voice when he stares at you. “It’s okay, ‘Samu. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He backs off and you finally get away from his orbit.

Finally alone, you barely pull yourself together. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, slapping your cheeks lightly to pry the strange daze from your eyes. You can’t get carried away here. Osamu is doing you a favor, one he isn’t fond of. You can’t get used to Osamu treating you like this. It’s borrowed time.

You splash water onto your face, waiting until the chill seeps into your cheeks that have been painfully hot since Osamu picked you up tonight.

As you exit the bathroom, Atsumu is there waiting for you in the hallway.

“I’m onto ya,” he starts.

You scoff, immediately putting your facade back on. It’s easy with Atsumu. “Oh please, Atsumu. You’re just jealous.”

It doesn't phase Atsumu the way you hope. “Such a weak comeback. Sounds like something you’d say to disguise the fact that yer playin’ my brother.” Your brother is the one playing me.

“Whatever, Atsumu,” you say, walking away, taking Osamu’s advice to not let Atsumu get to you.

“I bet ya forced my brother to pretend to be yer boyfriend. I know my brother and I know you. Just admit it.” He smirks. “It’s okay that no one wants to date ya. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

The fact that even Atsumu, even all of his stupidity, sees right through you makes you feel hot. You’re grateful that you’ve already turned away from him because you could not take much more damage tonight. Nothing would end you in a worse way than Atsumu seeing that he could make you cry.

Or maybe it’s the fact that Atsumu doesn’t, for one second, believe that someone like his brother could fall for someone like you. Maybe no one does. Maybe everyone here just thinks that you’re making this up and they’re playing along to help you save face.

It takes everything in you to keep your steps and breathing even as you take the walk back to Osamu to compose yourself.

It’s useless apparently because Osamu seems right through you. He immediately offers to take you to the balcony, explaining to everyone that you need some fresh air to cut through the alcohol you’ve had.

His silent understanding makes it worse because it makes it clear that you’re an open book. The act you put on is completely pointless because no one believes you anyway.

Osamu guides you to the balcony and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone.

He joins you at the railing, draping his jacket over you. You know he knows that you want to avoid looking into his eyes, just as much as he knows you want to avoid having this conversation altogether. He sighs.

“Why do ya let him get to you like that?”

You look back at him, eyes widening at the tone he rarely takes with you. His eyes are fixed forward, arms still dutifully wrapped around you, ever the dedicated boyfriend. But as his gaze flickers to you momentarily, you catch the weight of his question in his eyes.

“Who?” you mumble.

But Osamu’s not in the mood. He stays silent, letting the question hang in the air.

“I don’t know… I just…”

“Are ya still in love with my brother?”

“No,” you answer honestly.

Osamu raises his brows.

“No, but I’ve known him for so long now.” You feel the need to explain. “He just gets under my skin. You of all people should understand – he’s your brother! You guys fight all day long.”

“He’s my brother. We shared a womb. We were born to fight.” Osamu sighs. “You, though... Why can’t ya just let it go?”

“I don’t know! I just…” you trail off.

He continues to stare at you, not even knowing the effect he has on you. His earnest gaze pulls the truth out from under your skin.

“I wanna get him back,” you admit.

Osamu’s eyes go dark at that statement. His expression shutters.

“Not like that!” you quickly amend. “Not like I want to get back with him, I mean like, his face just pisses me off!”

“Huh?”

“I just wanna punch him in the face but I don’t think anything would give me more satisfaction than proving him wrong you know. And honestly, Osamu, you-”

“Ya think that I’m the perfect person to piss him off for ya. ‘Cause I’m his brother and there’s no one else who would get under his skin more than if I replaced him.”

You hear the disappointment heavy in his intonation.

“Osamu…”

“Am I wrong?”

He’s not wrong, but you feel an urge to tell him how he made you tingle at dinner. It was in the way he catered to your whims, covered for you, and held your hand in secret. It was in the way he, as your not-boyfriend, made you feel loved and desired much more so than any other boyfriend you’ve ever had before.

But when you look at his side profile, face now turned away from you and hidden by the shadows of the night, it doesn’t feel right to say any of that. Even in your mind, it sounds like an excuse. Because the bottom line is that he’s right. Your original intentions had been to use Osamu. And the fact that you might have developed a slight crush on him in the process doesn’t make you feel any less shitty and certainly doesn’t make Osamu feel any less used.

His question goes unanswered.

–

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Actually, it goes by too uneventfully because Osamu doesn’t call or text once. Not that you’ve made an effort, but after how that last conversation with Osamu ended, you can’t find the courage to face Osamu.

It doesn’t make you miss him any less.

You can’t recall if you used to miss Osamu like this, think about him and wish he’d reach out even if it’s only been a couple of days since you’ve last met. You only know that right now, you wish he’d make the first move because you can’t muster up the nerve to see him, even if it’s all you wanted. It also makes you realize that Osamu has been spoiling you long before that night and long before he agreed to be your fake boyfriend. The reason you never had to miss him is because he is always the one who makes the effort to call, text, bring you lunch, pick you up from work, drive you around.

The realization only made you feel worse about yourself.

And after days of mulling over realization after realization, each making you guiltier and guiltier, you made your decision.

That’s how you end up running to Osamu’s apartment, late on a Thursday evening. Without pausing to compose yourself, afraid you’ll lose your momentum, you knock.

The door swings open to reveal a very tired-looking, very handsome Osamu. He has his cap off, but his hair is unruly, as if his fingers have just recently run through it. His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his t-shirt is wrinkled. The urge to rub your thumb over his eyelids and smooth your other hand over this shirt is a sudden one you shove down because Osamu’s opening his mouth.

“Hey, what’cha doing here so late?”

There’s a momentary disappointment that strikes your gut. He asks you so normally, as if he isn’t plagued with thoughts of avoiding you. As if the couple of days that have gone by without any interaction between the two of you isn’t even a thought that occupies headspace.

“Uh,” you stutter.

“Actually,” he sighs and glances behind him. “Now’s not a good time. Can ya-”

“I don’t care about Atsumu,” you cut him off. It sounds like he’s preparing a rejection. Or he just doesn’t want to talk. Neither of which are favorable outcomes, so you barrel through to say what you need to say.

“I don’t care about what he thinks. Not anymore and definitely not that night. I was actually thinking about you the entire time and Atsumu, well, he’s just-”

“Just wait a minute, okay-”

“He just gets under my nerves because of the shit he says and I know he’s just saying stuff to rile me up and I’m a hothead, okay? He gets me because we’re like the same person sometimes, but I’m not doing this to get back at him anymore. It’s actually your fault because-”

“I knew it!” a voice yells from behind Osamu.

You crane your neck to see around Osamu and curse Osamu’s big frame for taking up the entire doorway and blocking your view of the apartment because there is the older twin, grinning widely and walking up to where you’re both standing.

You instantly feel the panic rise in your system.

“Atsumu,” Osamu begins in a warning tone.

Ignoring his brother, Atsumu continues on. “I knew it. I knew the two of ya couldn’t be dating just like that.”

Your nervous system goes into overdrive. Even you know how this looks.

You barged into Osamu’s place randomly at night and picked the time when Atsumu coincidentally is here as well.

Your wide eyes meet Osamu, willing him to believe that you didn’t come to make a scene for Atsumu’s viewing. You didn’t come to confess that you might have a crush on him with this exact timing so that Atsumu would fall for the act.

When Osamu refuses to meet your eyes, it brings your attention back to Atsumu, who continues to gloat about his victory.

Your face burns in mortification as you take slow steps away from the twins, making room for your getaway. As Atsumu gets closer and Osamu continues to avoid your gaze, your courage wanes and the last bit of pride you’re holding onto propels you to turn away instead of retorting as you always do.

“Aww, really let my words get to ya, didn’t ya? I knew all along-”

Before you can start running, Osamu grabs your arm and pulls you into the apartment, the other arm shoving Atsumu out.

“Hey, ‘Samu!”

“Shut the fuck up, ‘Tsumu. Now that my girlfriend’s here to spend the night, get out.” Osamu shuts the door in his face.

Atsumu’s protests fall on deaf ears, the sound of Osamu referring to you as his girlfriend echoing in your mind. He had taken your side, chosen to take the course of action that would embarrass you to least despite not having confirmed what your intentions were. The thought fills you with hope.

He pulls you further into the apartment, sitting you on the barstool. After situating you on the chair, he makes to step out of your personal space, but you lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. Your eyes start to sting in frustration that Osamu could somehow believe that this was all just another incident you had orchestrated to get back at his brother. This has all gotten so hopelessly messy.

“Osamu,” you sniffle into his neck. “I didn’t come over here and say all that because I knew Atsumu was listening. I just-” missed you.

He rubs soothing circles into your back, gently enough to make you want to cry more because you don’t deserve this but want it so badly.

“You just…?” he prompts.

The words won’t come out and your tears soak into his shirt. You want to tell him so badly that you’re not crying to garner his sympathy; you’re crying because you’re so angry with yourself.

Osamu patiently strokes your back, letting you cry before quietly telling you, “Oh, baby. How long do ya think we’ve known each other? I know yer not the type to set up this whole complicated scenario just to show up my stupid brother. I believe ya.”

His other arm is now holding your head to his neck, fingers running lightly across your scalp. “So can ya finish what you were about to say for me?”

His words and his actions do what they always do to you. They fill you with so much hope that there’s no room to mistaken his intentions. They fill you with the courage to tell him.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

Finally, both of his arms wrap around your back to push you tight into his chest. He squeezes, gentle enough to keep you safe but firm enough to tell you he wants you there. It pulls the confession out of you.

“And I like you so much, Osamu.”

He chuckles lightly into your ear. You can feel the vibrations echo in his chest. When you squeeze back, he trails his arms down to your legs to guide them around his waist. He carries you with ease to the couch and sits you down to cry in his lap.

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like that for, but when you finally calm down, you keep your arms wrapped around him and quietly ask, “why did you do all this for someone like me?”

He stops stroking your hair.

“What, ya don’t like it?”

You pull away to protest, already too comfortable with him spoiling you again, only to find the corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk.

He’s teasing, you realize.

You smack his face weakly and wind your arms back around him.

You snuggle back into his neck but he’s the one who pulls you back this time.

“Hey, seriously though,” he says. “Is this okay?”

You nod shyly.

“I need to hear it, sweetheart.”

“I want it.”

“Alright. C’mere then.”

You oblige.

“Can I tell ya a secret?” he murmurs into your neck.

You nod.

“There isn’t a man out there who’d do all that for someone he doesn’t love, ya know that?”

It makes you flustered, but much of what Osamu does does that to you. His tenderness makes you want to try harder to meet him in the middle.

“Can I do something?” you ask, taking a leap. Your face is incredibly hot and your heart is beating embarrassingly loudly against his. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

It’s easy when he responds, “You can do anything ya want to me.”

You intend for it to be an innocent peck, your form of an apology. But he holds the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped almost all the way around your torso and doesn’t let go until you’re panting against his open mouth.

He’s nonchalant when he shrugs.

“You can do anything ya want but I’ll be doing the same from now on.”

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gojoest · 3 days

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i’d die a thousand times for you ┊ hurt/comfort, suggestive, MDNI, gn! reader, established relationship, pet names (pretty, love), lovely banter, v brief somno mention if you squint, this blurb was provoked by ch261 (no spoilers though), not proofread we die like this, wc: 1.1k

you watched satoru carefully.

searing every feature on his precious face deep into your consciousness while he was soundly sleeping next to you — the way his nostrils flared with each breath he took and the way his eyelids slightly fluttered in slumber, cheek squished against the pillow leaving his mouth agape and drooling from the corner of it.

you thought you’d never get to see him like this ever again, not after what you witnessed with your own eyes in shinjuku.

—you shut your eyes close, tightly. shaking your head, desperately trying to dispel that sight from your memories like your life depended on it. it always reached you in your nightmares but you’d never let it catch you when awake. not when he was here.

when he came back to you, for the first time in your life, you considered it possible — that there might really be god, because his return was no miracle. it was god having mercy on you for he would never give one more than they could handle.

you trailed your fingers along his forehead — tenderly brushing back his hair that felt fluffier than ever between your fingers — before sliding them down his temple to his cheek and then to his cutely parted lips that planted a soft kiss on your fingertip.

“morning, pretty”, satoru spoke with a sleepy timbre, eyes remaining close.

“morning, handsome”, you greeted him back. “did i wake you up?”

“no, been awake for a while”, he smiled, “can’t miss my favorite part of the morning — having you be the creep and stare at me while you think i’m asleep. makes my chest swell with joy”, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at you, his smile growing bigger.

“can’t have you be the creep all the time, that’d be unfair”, you teased, shifting into a sitting position with your back against the headboard of the bed.

he rolled closer and laid his head on your lap, taking your hand into his and pecking it sweetly then putting it on his chest, right on top of his heart, while keeping his over yours. “so we’re basically switching roles?”

“that’s right”, you gave a nod. “we are”

“then there’s a lot more you need to do, i’m afraid”

“walk me through it then, please”

“alright”, he cleared his throat. “first”, he shifted your hand from his chest to the top of his head, “you need to pat me and slowly run your fingers through my hair”, his hand carefully guiding yours. “then you need to lean down a little bit and kiss the tip of my nose”

after you did as he instructed, it took him a hot minute to wipe the silly grin off his face but eventually he continued, “and now you have to caress my cheek and think very hard about how you might just die from happiness because i look ridiculously cute and you love me so very much. after you’re done thinking, you have to whisper it into my ear. you have to be very thorough with your confession, by the way — the required word count is minimum 1k”

“now you’re just making fun of me”, you softly flicked his forehead with your free hand, “no way you’re doing this to me every morning”

“i do even more than this but i don’t want to freak you out, so i’m just easing you into the basic stuff”

“more than this?”

“well of course”

“what is it?”

“can’t tell”

“come on”, you insisted.

“try to guess”, he lifted an eyebrow with a challenging look.

“okay. give me a hint and i will”

“something a freak would do”

“oh……”, a gasp left your lips at the realization, “don’t tell me you…”, gasping again you covered your mouth with your hand.

“oh, yeah”, he shook his head affirmatively.

no words were needed, a quick glance at his idiotic grin was enough to provide you with the answer. it was written all over his face — satoru would often jerk off to you while you were sleeping.

“by the way — if you’re up to fulfilling this part of the creep role, i am definitely watching. heheh”

you laughed, “that’d be off-script though — you’re supposed to be asleep while i do that or it beats the purpose”

“i can pretend to be sleeping, don’t you worry”, he adeptly assured you.

“it wouldn’t be very creep of me if you’re not in deep slumber, so — no”

his lips curved down into a pout. “fine”, he mumbled. “at least do the last part — tell me you love me”

leaning down slowly, your lips charged towards his for a short peck before you whispered into his mouth, “i love you, stinky”

“i love you too, pretty”, he reached for the back of your neck and pulled you in for another kiss. “now — say it again, but louder”

and you did. you said it again and again and again, in between every kiss, until your eyes welled up and it got harder to speak while holding back the tears.

you leaned back and covered your face with both of your hands. “i’m sorry”, you muffled.

“hey, love”, he sat up and pulled you into his arms. “shhh, come here”

he knew exactly what crossed your mind right now for the same thought occupied his as well — just as much as he was grateful to be here, to be as lucky to have this morning banter with you — so were you. in fact, he was more than lucky, perhaps even god’s favorite child, to make it back to you. thinking about the possibility of leaving you behind, alone in this bed, in this house, in this life — made his heart ache, because he was on thin ice back in shinjuku. the pain and loneliness he would’ve caused you would be a one-way ticket for him to hell — and he wasn’t having it. before you, he didn’t really care whether he’d go to hell or heaven. but now, heaven is a must. because you were an angel, and that was the only place he could meet you again if the worst were to ever happen.

“i am here”, he whispered. “i am here”, his repeated a few times until his voice started cracking and he just held you in silence.

“you better”, you pulled away from his embrace and straddled yourself on his lap. cupping his cheeks in your hands, you nuzzled your nose against his and breathed in his scent. “if you die again, i swear i will kill you”

“but if you’ll hold me like this every day, i don’t mind dying a thousand times”

“don’t ever joke about this, you idiot”

“but i am not joking. i mean it — i’d pay any price as long as i get to be with you like this”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader

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preqwells · 5 days

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cw: 18+, afab, fingering, p in v, read part 1 of mechanic konig here

mechanic! konig would definitely become clingy after what you thought was your one-night stand.

staying true to his word, your new lovely mechanic named könig followed through with teaching you the basics of a car. how to check the dipstick that was in your oil tank so you'd know when you needed an oil change, checking the tire pressure so you didn't find yourself in a situation you didn't want to end up in-- he was thorough, diligent-- he found himself caring more than usual as he explained these things to you. "so, when it gets to this mark?" you softly inquired, pressing your fingernail to the mark you assumed he had pointed to. "no, maus-- here. if you base it off where you just pointed, well… good luck." he mumbled, a tinge of amusement in his tone. he kept his thick digit on the dipstick, slick oil making his index finger glisten under the sun. you attempted to train your brain to think of anything but what it wanted to think, honestly. you let out another sheepish chuckle, nodding obediently at any pointers he was kind enough to give you.

call it luck or fate, but könig didn't have the serpentine belt you so desperately needed to have installed in your car to get to work tomorrow. könig felt a hint of excitement-- this meant you needed a ride home, right? könig was kind enough to offer you a ride… well, an actual ride which you vehemently refused at first. you had never been one to ask favors of others, certainly not a stranger you just met even if your conscience screamed at you to do otherwise. "i can't-- i can't cover any additional costs…" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes fell to the ground out of embarrassment. your helplessness was cute-- the pout that tugged at the fullness of your lips, your shy demeanor-- how had he gone so long without seeing such a sweetheart around town? "nein, it won't cut into what you already owe me. it'll be cheaper taking a ride from me than getting an uber, anyways." he insisted, catching onto the way you previously mentioned cutting back on expenses. you couldn't argue with him-- or more like, you didn't want to.

during the car ride home, könig would sneak glances at you-- whether it be at red lights or when he turned the corner. he couldn't help the way his eyes would roam your figure, and you even caught glimpses of his lingering gaze. you weren't stupid, and neither was he-- the tension was palpable, almost tangible. he guided you to your door, his hand splayed across the small of your back, thick digits bracing you. "um… well, thanks-- for everything." you quickly got out, wanting the interaction to be over so you wouldn't make a fool out of yourself. everything felt so intimate-- the way he touched you, stole glances at you-- it felt out of character for you since you had only known him maybe for half the day. könig remained quiet for a moment, drinking in every reaction you had. your head tilted upward, looking up at him through your lashes as he kept your gaze. the atmosphere suddenly felt thick, intense. "no problem. couldn't let you go home without knowing you were safe." his voice dropped an octave, his head dipping lower to insert himself in your personal bubble. your breath hitched as you nodded, opening the door as his forearms leaned against the doorframe, the heavy tools on his belt exposing a sliver of skin along with a tuft of hair right above his groin.

"well… i'm safe." "are you?" "mhm." "how're you gonna get back to my shop tomorrow?"

your brain short-circuited at the heady mix of the bluntness of his words and his stature, your mouth slightly agape. he let out a low chuckle before his index finger found the belt loop of your pants, pulling you into his space. you mumbled out a weak 'i dunno'-- that answer wasn't good enough for him. "… i could stay the night… won't cut into what you already owe me, maus." he reiterated his earlier point, the boldness of his words coated in mirth. his face was brought closer to your own, his black lashes hanging low over his eyes. your hands found purchase on his biceps before his lips brushed against yours, putting a silence to any lingering tension from earlier as your eyes fluttered closed. he put every ounce of being into the kiss-- hell, he wished you could've broken your serpentine belt earlier if it meant a pretty thing like you could've stepped into his shop sooner than you did. he backed you into your apartment, his hand closing the door hurriedly. "fuck-- you just had to walk into my shop, didn't you?" he gruffed out between kisses, annoyed at the feeling of how quickly he already found himself half-hard.

you parted your lips to squeak out a half-hearted apology before könig used this opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, coaxing a sweet moan from you which elicited a wicked grin from könig. könig led you into your bedroom, gently placing you at the head of the bed as his teeth nipped at every area of skin he could think of-- your neck, your collarbone, underneath your breast when he managed to get your shirt off. the whines and whimpers that escaped you only urged him to continue, didn't you know? stupid of you, really-- to think you weren't going to end the night with his fingers readying you to split you open on his heavy cock. his head lolled back when he did eventually find his length rubbing snugly against the slickness of your walls, your eyes blinking away tears from the initial stretch. he quickly caught wind of this as he halted his movements, arching down as his lips pressed against your cheek.

"s'okay, maus-- know i'm kind of a fit, eh? just tell me when it's okay to move." he cooed to which you quickly nodded, exhaling a sigh you didn't know you were holding. as you signaled for him to start moving, his thrusts were almost borderline calculated, precise-- you didn't seem to be complaining about it from the string of moans you were letting out, anyway. it didn't take long for his thrusts to grow sloppy, a mix of your wetness and the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. the way you keened, your brows knitted so closely together from pleasure, your lips swollen and red from the earlier make-out session-- yeah, this is where könig needed to be; buried deep into your drooling pussy.

the night came to an end as did your time with könig-- hell, you could barely remember falling asleep. you went to sleep with the thought that you'd wake up to an empty bed, trying to conjure ways for it not to be so awkward when you did eventually go to pick up a car. you'd never really had a one-night stand before-- how do you even face someone who was practically balls-deep in you the night before? what you didn't expect when morning came was the soft kisses that rained upon your cheek, waking you out of a well-deserved sleep. your eyes slowly opened, scanning the room and taking in the sight of yourself under the covers. you were… clean? no traces of stickiness between your legs, no sweat sticking to your skin. your head turned to the side to be greeted with the sight of könig with bed-head, his hair twisted in every way imaginable. your eyebrows furrowed together out of confusion-- you were fully expecting him to leave. könig caught on quickly to your confusion, his elbow propped up on the mattress as his palm rested on the side of his cheek. he returned your look of confusion as if daring you to say something.

"what? we have to go pick up your car today, don't we?"

#call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #könig #mechanic könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig x reader #cod smut #konig #konig cod #konig call of duty

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navybrat817 · 1 month

Note

Smartie: would you love me even if I were a gecko?

Stud: I would find a Witcher and make him turn me into a gecko and this would be us: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMMVoXtHD/

BAHAHA. Nonnie, I burst out laughing watching this and reading the comments.

Like Animals

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You ask Bucky an "important" question and he gives you a thorough answer. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Humor, fluff, implied explicit sexual content, inner monologue, TikTok video, pet names, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Apologies to geckos. A/N: Some Stud and Smartie for your Tuesday. Had to do it, @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

A smile pulled at your lips when you saw Bucky relaxed in his chair, engrossed in his newest book. Soot and Alpine cuddled up together nearby, both letting your man have some peace as he read. Naturally, it was the perfect time to interrupt him. Because you had a very important question for him.

One that would shape the future of your relationship.

He’ll understand why I bothered him.

“Hey, Stud?” You asked as you took a seat on the sofa, his steel eyes peering up from the pages to gaze at you. Your heart would always skip a beat from that look. “I have something very important to ask you.”

He put his bookmark in to give you his undivided attention. “What’s up? Is it about the wedding?”

“No,” you smiled. You were aware that some men didn’t care about wedding planning, but Bucky was. He wanted it to be the perfect day for you. “But the question is kind of related to love and our relationship.”

His brows furrowed when you didn’t elaborate. “Okay. What’s the question?”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Would you still love me if I turned into an animal?”

Bucky blinked once. Twice. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile or laugh. “An animal? What kind of animal?”

You huffed when he didn’t immediately say “yes”. That should’ve been his answer. “I don’t know! A gecko! Yeah. A gecko.”

I have to keep a straight face.

Amusement sparkled in his eyes, but he still tried to remain as stoic as he could. “A gecko? Why a gecko?”

“Because geckos are cool!” You replied, close to bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the questioning and logic. But wasn’t part of the fun of having a partner being able to discuss stuff like this? “They can climb walls, can live a long time, they make great pets-”

“You wanna be my pet, Smartie?” Bucky asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Yes.

“You’re…” you sighed when he ran his tongue along his lips. He was a sexy bastard and you would soon call him your husband. “You’re distracting me. Answer the question, please.”

“So, that’s a yes,” he smirked, pushing his hair back and causing you to stare a bit again. “You’re asking me if you were a gecko, would I still love you?”

“Yes,” you said, rolling your eyes to try and play it off as something silly. Which it was. “Would you love me even if I were a gecko?”

Bucky set the book on the table before he moved from his chair to the couch. Your heart raced when he took your left hand and kissed over your engagement ring. “Smartie. Doll. Baby. Love of my life, of course, I would,” he said, your cheeks warm when he smiled at you. “In fact, I would find a Witcher and make him turn me into a gecko so we could be together properly.”

Right answer, Stud.

“You would?”

“I would,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t want to exist in a world where we can’t be together.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“I don’t either,” you whispered, your heart full. “And no matter what, human, gecko, anything, I’m your Smartie and you’re my Stud.”

You knew if tomorrow you woke up as some different version of you, he’d love you. If someone tried to separate you, he’d find a way to get you back. He was your soulmate. You had the whole world because of him.

“Damn right,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours before he pulled away. “Besides, if I ever found that Witcher, this would be us.”

…What?

“What would be us? I’m confused,” you said as he took out his phone and pulled up a video, cuddling close to you could both see the screen. “What is this?”

Bucky gently shushed you as he turned up the volume. “Just watch.”

You tilted your head as a rock came into view. “What are you showing me?” You questioned before your eyes went wide. Bucky’s arm over shoulders shook as he started chuckling. “Are those geckos fucking?!”

The decibel of your voice made the cats raise their heads, but they didn’t move since you weren’t in any sort of danger. “Yeah, they are,” your fiancé laughed. “Geckos in their semi-natural habitat.”

This wasn’t on my BINGO card for the year.

“Why do you have this?!” You asked, turning to look at him. “Wait, when did you start using TikTok?! Is this on your FYP? Is this a new kink you haven’t told me about? Because that’s a whole other conversation.”

He threw his head back and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “You’re missing it.”

“Yeah, because gecko porn was the thing I was missing in my life. Everything makes sense now,” you teased, gesturing to the screen. “And, by the way, that’ll never be us.”

Bucky’s laughter came up short and, for a moment, sadness flickered in his eyes. “I thought you said we’d be together if we were geckos.”

“We would be,” you assured him, seeing happiness all over his face once again. “But look. He’s doing all the work and she looks bored as hell. That’s not me and that’s not our sex life.”

“So, I fuck you better?” He teased you.

Duh.

Whatever kind of sex you had before you met Bucky didn’t even count to you. He ruined you so thoroughly that you didn’t even remember the first guy you kissed. It was as if he erased all other guys from your mind.

Love was a powerful thing and Bucky had it in abundance.

“Yes, so much better. I mean, come on, she looks like she’s thinking, ‘Did I leave the stove on?’”

The brunette burst out laughing all over again.

I love that sound.

“Seriously! I would never just be still like that and you know it. There’s a difference between being a pillow princess and a dead fish,” You smiled, cuddling closer so you could feel his chest rumble beneath your hand. “And just for making me look at that, I want you to try and keep a straight face the next time we have sex.”

“What? That’s not fair,” he groaned, making you shriek when he suddenly laid you out on the sofa, his phone forgotten. “I can’t keep a straight face when I’m inside you. Your pussy feels too good for that.”

He always looks gorgeous when he slides into me.

“So does your cock. I don’t think I could look bored if I tried,” you agreed, raising an eyebrow when he moved on top of you. “But seriously, how is it that you just happened to have that video when I asked about us being geckos? You didn’t know I was going to ask you that.”

He grasped your chin to give you a thorough kiss, the kind that drove every sane thought from your mind. “I guess the two of us are just in sync,” he said.

“I guess we are,” you smiled. “But no more gecko porn today, okay?”

“Okay,” he smirked down at you. “But I will fuck you like an animal.”

True to his word, that was exactly what he did.

Oh, I adore them. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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museanddream · 3 months

Text

Heaven || Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x reader

Warnings: 🔞 || threesome, poly relationship, fingering, oral sex, strap-ons, degrading language, bottom!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Part 1 of 2

If heaven was a place, it would be right here.

Here, between your girls, your back pressed against Lucy’s chest, one of her hands plucking at your nipple while her other holds your knee up, making space for Ona to feast between your legs.

“Use your fingers,” Lucy commands Ona. “She wants you inside her.”

Ona lifts her head, lips shiny with your arousal, then runs her fingers through your dripping folds before she sinks a single finger into you.

“I can speak for myself,” you huff, though your words slip into a moan as Ona curls her finger inside you.

Lucy pinches your nipple roughly, which in turn causes you to buck your hips up into Ona’s hand. You’re coherent enough to chat back, but not enough to remember that it’s a bad idea to do so. Especially when Lucy is in one of her commanding moods.

“Oh, you can?” Lucy hums into your ear, and you realise too late that there will be consequences for what you said. Lucy addresses Ona next, “Add another one. You’re not fucking her hard enough if she can talk.”

Ona hooks her finger against your front wall to elicit a moan from your throat as she drags it out slowly, before replacing one finger with two on the next thrust. Her movements are rougher, the base of her thumb grazing your clit with every thrust, just enough pressure to remind you how desperate you are to come but not enough to actually get you close.

“Can she take three?” Lucy asks Ona, watching the way that Ona’s fingers enter and leave your body with fascination.

“I think so,” Ona answers, and it drives you insane, the way they’re talking about fucking you as casually as if they were discussing what to cook for dinner. “It’d be a stretch but she’s wet enough. Or we could…”

Ona’s fingers have stilled inside you and you open your eyes, feeling the way that your girlfriends are silently communicating with each other while you lie back against Lucy, a desperate mess between them. You watch Ona’s eyes flicker towards the nightstand as she wordlessly asks for Lucy’s permission and you involuntarily clench around Ona’s fingers at the thought of them using one of the many toys in the bottom drawer on you.

“Please,” you beg, needing to feel full, fuller than the two fingers currently nestled in your cunt. You want to be stretched open, to feel the soreness of a thorough fucking tomorrow.

Despite the way she looks down at you from where she’s knelt between your legs, Ona’s brown eyes are soft, almost understanding of your predicament. You have no doubt in your mind that if it was just the two of you, she’d give in to your every request, pleasure you exactly how you asked her to and make you come over and over again until you could no longer move.

Lucy is not quite so accommodating.

“Oh, really? You want our cock?”

The way that Lucy refers to it as their cock has you dripping onto the sheet, bucking your hips up into nothing as Ona withdraws her fingers and walks over to the nightstand to look for the harness. Ona might be the one about to fill you up but there’s no doubt that it’s both of them who are fucking you, Ona listening obediently to every command that Lucy gives you as they slowly bring you to ruin.

“Please.”

“Please what?” asks Lucy, sending one of her hands south down your body to replace Ona’s, brushing over your clit and down towards your entrance with barely enough pressure to tease, let alone give you the pleasure you crave.

It’s still enough to have you whining and begging.

“Please, I want your cock. Fill me up. I need it.”

Lucy drags her hand back up your body, ghosting over your throat with wet fingers before she slides them past your lips, encouraging you to clean your own arousal from her deft digits with your tongue.

“You heard her, Ona,” says Lucy, releasing her fingers from your mouth with a wet pop and deliberately smearing your saliva over your own chin. “Give the slut what she wants.”

Satisfied with the fit of the harness against her hips, Ona returns to the bed and kneels between your spread legs. The silicone cock nudges against your thigh, mere inches from where you ache to be filled, as Ona crawls up the bed and covers your body with hers. You think she’s coming in to kiss you and tilt your head to accommodate her mouth, but she bypasses you completely, instead kissing Lucy over your shoulder.

They kiss slowly, messily, and it’s normally one of your favourite things to watch your girlfriends kiss each other in front of you but right now, sandwiched between their hot bodies with Ona’s cock against your leg taunting your empty cunt, you wish they’d hurry up and get to the main event.

You thought you were doing a pretty good job of being patient while they kiss as if you’re not even there, holding back the whines and pleas that threaten to slip from your throat, but clearly not well enough. Your hips buck subconsciously, trying to get a bit of pressure from the toy that is so close to where you need it, yet still too far away.

And of course Lucy notices.

“Oh, was there something you wanted?” Lucy taunts you as Ona’s mouth descends to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to the hollow of Lucy’s throat.

“Please, Luce,” you beg. “Want Ona to fuck me.”

“Go on,” Lucy tells Ona, who grabs a pillow and slides it under your hips with Lucy’s help. “No need to be gentle, not when she’s this desperate. Need to show her who’s in charge.”

Lucy is the one in charge, even as Ona gets into position between your spread legs and rubs the head of her cock against your folds, nudging easily against your clit with the help of your natural lubrication. Lucy, the puppetmaster, holding your legs open as Ona, her willing marionette, listens to every word of instruction that Lucy gives for your pleasure. It’s almost demeaning, like you’re not good enough, not worthy enough, to be fucked by Lucy herself, instead having her pull the strings as Ona does the work for her.

“Ready?” Ona asks, testing your entrance again with two deft fingers, before using the string of arousal that clings to her digits when she pulls out to slick the head of the cock strapped to her hips.

Lucy answers on your behalf.

“She’s ready.”

“Ona, please.”

Ona widens her knees and nudges the head of the cock against your entrance. It’s not the biggest one in your collection - only Lucy is allowed to wear that - but it’s still wider than the fingers Ona prepared you with, the thick head stretching you open as she pushes slowly inside.

“Fill her up,” Lucy orders Ona. “She can take it. She’s not going to break.”

Ona pulls almost all the way out, then pushes back in, deeper this time but just as agonisingly slow.

“More fun to tease her,” Ona counters, her eyes fixated on the point where her cock disappears into your cunt.

It’s not often that Ona disobeys an order from Lucy, always eager to please, but she also knows that the only time she can get away with it is when you’re spread out and desperate between them. Lucy isn’t going to punish Ona for questioning her authority when she’s already got you begging so deliciously.

Ona continues to fill you, sliding the toy into your hole inch by inch, pulling out occasionally before resuming. The stretch is so agonisingly pleasurable that you fumble around until you find Lucy’s hand on your thigh holding you open and grasp at her fingers. Lucy allows it, threading her fingers through yours and giving them a squeeze that almost makes you forget that your girlfriends are on a mission to ruin you, until she speaks again.

“Harder.”

This time, Ona listens. She withdraws a couple of inches, then drives back in with the full force of her hips, filling you completely. Your back arches, your head falling back against Lucy’s shoulder as you let out a cry of pleasure, and Ona’s hips start rhythmically thrusting against yours.

“How does it feel?” Lucy asks, pressing her cheek against yours as she cradles you from behind, the hand that isn’t laced with yours coming up to play with your tits again.

“Good,” you answer, between groans. “Fuck! Really fucking good.”

Lucy pinches your nipple, then addresses Ona again.

“Harder.”

Ona does as Lucy asks, leaning forward to partly cover your body with hers as she plants her hands on either side of you to support her body weight, giving her hips the freedom to pound the cock into your cunt with even more vigour. Ona’s frame is small, but her athleticism has primed her for this, barely faltering as she drives her hips into yours. The toy seems to hit deeper with every thrust, the slight curve to the shaft dragging against your front wall each time she withdraws, only for her to slide straight back in again.

It’s almost perfect, the pleasure building between your legs each time Ona’s hips slap against yours and the cock hits inside you just right. Almost enough to bring you right to the edge, if only somebody would apply the right kind of pressure to your clit to match Ona’s thrusts.

You’ll forgive Ona, her hands busy holding her body up so that she can hit that perfect spot inside you, but it’s frankly criminal that Lucy has two hands and neither of them are playing with your clit.

“Luce, I need…”

“No.”

The hand on your tit comes up to grab your jaw, tilting your head away from where you’d been pressing it into Lucy’s cheek and forcing you to look down your body at where the toy disappears inside you.

“Look at Ona. Look how well she’s fucking you. You don’t need anything.”

Ona lifts her head as she continues to fuck into you and you meet the gaze of her dark eyes. So what if Lucy won’t give you what you want? Maybe Ona will be kinder.

“Ona, please. I want to come.”

“I want her to wait,” Lucy growls, the low rumble of her voice making vibrations against your back that cause all the hairs on your arms to stand to attention.

And that’s not an order Ona is willing to disobey. Unfortunately for you, Lucy seems to have just as much control over Ona as she does over you. Ona’s eyes soften in an apology as she continues to fuck you, though her hips slow slightly to give you a little respite from the pressure building in your core.

“Ona…”

“Lucy said…”

“Lucy can get fucked.”

The words spill from your lips before you can stop them and you know you’re in big trouble.

Ona does too, her hips stilling, the toy buried deep inside you, forcing all your attention onto Lucy.

“What did you say?” Lucy asks, her voice dangerously calm, but you know better than to believe there won’t be consequences for what you said.

You try to stammer your way out of a punishment, despite already knowing your fate.

“Nothing, I…”

“She said you can get fucked,” Ona supplies unhelpfully, interrupting before you can make excuses, or at the very least apologise.

“I thought so,” Lucy says. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. What d’ya think, Ona?”

“You want her mouth?” Ona asks, pulling the strap out and leaving you achingly empty.

“You want her arse in the air.”

Ona smirks, her eyebrows twitching up in agreement, and she uses strong hands on your hips to drag you down the bed towards where she stands at the foot of it.

“Do you like that idea, amor?” Ona asks.

Standing in front of you, Ona’s cock is right there, and you’re in half a mind to wrap your lips around it, cleaning it of your slick, but you’re already in enough trouble with Lucy without putting your mouth on Ona before you put it on her.

Instead, you nod and look back up at Ona as you say, “Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Ona praises you, her eyes full of adoration as she caresses one of your cheeks with her hand.

The tender moment is interrupted by Lucy behind you, impatient to get back to business.

“Get her into position.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #ona batlle x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze x ona batlle #lucy bronze x ona batlle x reader

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hellsenthero · 5 months

Text

Hot Under the Collar

Written by: hellsenthero

Azriel X Fem!Reader

A mandatory visit to the Illyrian war-camp takes a turn for the worst when three hot-headed males decide they want to send their High Lord a message.

Warnings/themes: Swearing, violence, blood, angst, fluff, sexist war camp.

MASTERLIST

-----

Azriel held you securely in his arms as he flew. The view of the trees and mountains was always breathtaking to you, so much so that you didn't mind the biting chill in the air that nipped at your hands and cheeks.

“I wish you could've stayed home.” Azriel spoke for the first time since you'd taken off from the House of Wind. It was a comment that had you peering up at him with furrowed brows.

“You don't want me with you?”

“God's no,” he breathed, his hazel eyes met yours and you could see the stress he was holding back. “Illyria is no place for females, Y/N, no place I want my mate near.”

“But you grew up there.” Azriel's hold on you tightened.

“Exactly.”

The rest of the flight to the war-camp was spent in silence. Azriel's Shadows twisted around the two of you in such an unsettled manner that you could practically taste his anxiety. When the camp came into view you gave Azriel a quick kiss on his cheek. “It'll be okay, Az, don't worry too much.”

You could feel the tension in the camp the second you landed. It had your nerves flaring like a spooked creature, but you knew as one of the Night Court's best healers you had a job to do here. Check the females, make sure their wings are intact, give them any remedies they require, be it for their cycles, pain relief, contraception, or anything else. Azriel was here to speak with Devlon to ensure he was sticking to the new training rules and as your protection as he all but refused to drop you off like Rhysand had originally suggested.

“Would you just drop Feyre off there and leave, Rhys?” Azriel had bit out when Rhysand called the meeting. Rhys looked pissed at just the thought of leaving his mate in the Illyrian war-camp.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then don't expect me to leave Y/N's side for a fucking second in that shit hole.”

“Shadowsinger,” Devlon greeted. His sharp eyes looked you over but he didn't bother to greet you. Azriel grit his teeth at the blatant disrespect towards his mate.

“Devlon,” Azriel said coolly, “this is Y/N, one of our Court's best healers,” he placed his left hand over his right, making sure his mating band was visible for Devlon and the other gathering fae. “She's also my mate. I expect there to be no issues with her checking on the health of the females here?” At the mention of mate the other fae backed up with wide steps, all but three males who stood side by side, glaring between the shadowsinger and you. You quickly committed their looks to memory before focusing back on Azriel. “We'll be staying at our usual cabin.” You caught Azriel saying.

“How long will you be staying?” Devlon asked.

You knew Azriel wanted to leave as soon as possible, but he instead answered with, “as long as it takes to ensure the females are healthy and cared for and that things are running smoothly.”

“We can care for our females ourselves.” Devlon bit out.

Azriel's hazel eyes narrowed. “You say that, but you've proven that to be untrue in the past.” Before Devlon could respond with a nasty remark of his own, Azriel slipped his arm behind your back and began leading you towards the cabin he more or less grew up in. “I'll meet with you just before dinner to go over specifics, Devlon.” Azriel called out without looking back.

“What a prick.” You hissed out as Azriel shut the cabin door behind the two of you.

Azriel let out a low hum of agreement. “He's the nicest male here.”

“I'll try to be quick,” you say in order to placate both him and yourself, “thorough, but quick.”

“Good,” Azriel breathed out.

—--

The next morning found you doing much the same as you had the evening before. Going cabin to cabin and checking on the females. You preferred to check on them in the comfort of their own homes, it made everyone more at ease and always allowed for the females to speak to you more freely about their health. By the afternoon you had to go back to your own cabin to make up more tonics for the female's cycles. You found out that when their cycle hit none of the males in the camp bothered to help get them soothing tonics for the pain they went through. Instead, they were told to deal with it.

With a grunt you slammed the cabin door shut out of anger as you got to brewing up more tonics. Azriel was in another meeting with Devlon and you were glad he wasn't there to see you fuming with anger. The treatment of the females in the camp made you want to scream and cry and you knew it would take a long while to decompress after leaving the Gods forsaken war-camp. Yes, Devlon had the females training and yes, they stopped the wing clipping, but the lack of equality within the camp had you nearly shaking.

You didn't bother turning around when the cabin door opened. Otherwise, you would have seen the three males standing in the doorway. Instead, you called out to who you thought was your mate. “If I'm seeing the improved version of the camp, then I can't imagine the horrors that went on here before.”

“I wouldn't say that this place has improved at all,” answered a deep voice. You shot up and out of your seat and faced the three winged males that you'd had your eyes on the day prior, the only three males who didn't seem to care that you were Azriel's mate and therefore, untouchable. “In fact, I think the camp’s gone to shit ever since your little mate and his High Lord introduced the new rules. I think we need to send them a message.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” You hissed as you scrambled to pull on the invisible golden thread tethering you to Azriel.

“Make us.” The second male hissed.

You looked to the ceiling and muttered a prayer.

“Praying won't get you out of this,” said the first male, a tall male with dark brown eyes.

You looked back down and locked eyes with him. “Oh, I'm not praying for myself.”

You threw yourself at the male just as the door burst open again on a shadow swept wind. Azriel had his hands around the third male's neck, snapping in with one quick movement before the male could draw his weapon. Azriel's shadows helped subdue the second male, keeping him in place as he took out Truth-Teller and stabbed in through the male's chest. The bond had Azriel wanting to carve his eyes out and slit his neck slowly for even thinking of hurting his mate, but now was not the time for a slow and painful death. As Azriel went to advance on the last male, he stopped. He stopped because before him, on the ground, was his mate, straddling the screaming male. Azriel watched as you clawed the eyes out of the first male. His screams of pain like music to Azriel's ears as you dug your sharp nails in further and further and further, until finally, the male grew quiet, and he stopped moving. You brought bloody fingers to the male's neck, checking for a pulse, and after a moment, you breathed a sigh of relief. “He's dead.”

Azriel looked at you with a mix of love, shock, pride, his many emotions flowing down the bond to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered as he helped you off the floor, he didn't mind the warm blood that slipped from your fingers onto his own. “Needed to get my anger out, that really helped.”

Azriel was speechless for a moment as he looked you over.

“Fuck baby, remind me to never get you angry.”

You laughed, a sweet sound that was out of place in a cabin full of bodies. “You know I can get a bit hot under the collar, baby.”

“Right,” Azriel answered with a small uptilt of his lips, “I'm going to go tell Devlon his three best fighters are dead. Once you're done here we're going straight home and I'm not letting you leave the bedroom for a fucking week. Got it?”

Your smile was enough of an answer, but you still nodded to Azriel. “Got it.”

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acowar #acomaf #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x fem!reader #acotar azriel #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x you #azriel x y/n

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Could you do Daddy kink König x fem reader pls 🙏👉👈

König w/ a Daddy Kink

Warnings: 18+, Daddy Kink, Dominant König, Breeding Kink, Forced Breeding Kink, Consensual Non-Con/Dub-Con Kink (König would never force himself on you; he loves you very much and everything you do together is explicitly consensual), Somnophilia, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Submissive Reader, Fem Reader, Spanking, Discipline, Punishment, Petnames, Pussy Slapping, Plugging, Sadism, König’s dick is H U G E, Profanity, Fluff, etc.

DADDY KONIG AAAAAAAHHHHHH

Okay, Dom König absolutely has a daddy kink.

And you realised it by accident when you screamed “Daddy!” as he made you cum.

Body riddled with the ebbing of your orgasm, heaving chest flush against König’s, you lolled against him, perfectly oblivious to what you’d unearthed in König.

“What was that, Engel?” König said, panting, twitching, head tilting as he looked down at you.

You could barely talk, nevermind move.

When you didn’t answer, still panting heavily, König took your face in his hand, gripping your jaw, making you wince.

“Don’t test my patience, Engel.” His voice was low and rasping with lust. “I’m sure you don’t want me to pound you again. Not while you’re so…” He pressed his fingers against the bruised, sensitive skin of your lips.

You yelped, back arching, pushing you further into König’s chest.

“I…I called you…” Your gaze fell from his sharp eyes, drifting off to the side, shame obscuring your confidence and rendering you incapable of facing him.

“Go on,” König encouraged. “Say it.”

“Daddy…”

König shivered, his skin breaking out into goosebumps. He sucked in a hiss between his teeth, and, slowly, ground his half-hard cock against your aching flower. You whined. König growled.

“Mmmh, Darling,” his breath shuttered, “such a good girl.”

König rubbed against your clit, making you moan - cry - against him.

“M’gonna fuck you so hard ‘til–”

He groaned, his tip catching your lips. God, so tempting - so inviting.

“‘Til you make me a daddy.”

Expect many thorough breeding sessions after this.

Literally just König filling you until you look and feel like you’re about to burst, only for him to plug you and make you keep his seed inside you.

“Pull it out and I’ll keep going until you actually pop.”

Definitely into somnophilia.

Will wake up at an odd hour of the morning with a raging hard-on and will just feed his length into your pussy, feeling you squeeze him while you sleep.

“Gonna fill you up, Baby,” he’d whisper in your ear, giving a low moan when you shift in your sleep and invite him deeper.

If you wake up during this and tell König to: “Nnng, stop - please, don’t–”

You’re just gonna make him cum harder, draw him to his end quicker.

That being said, he has a slight (massive) dub-con kink.

Also, consensual forced breeding kink.

“N-no! Please, Daddy, I don’t wanna get pregnant–”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” König hissed, his cock bulging in your stomach, his hands pinning your wrists above your head.

“I’ll breed you as much as I like; m’gonna make sure you never leave this house again–” he moaned as he felt himself succumbing to his release, his member twitching. “So beautiful – you’re gonna look so pretty, swollen with my offspring.”

Well, given you actually want to bring a child into the world, of course.

If not, you and König can simply pretend, still indulging König’s daddy kink at every given opportunity.

König refuses to let you refer to him by anything other than ‘Daddy’ when he’s in the mood - failure to do so results in some serious pussy slapping.

Doesn’t matter how sensitive you are; he’s going to make sure you remember to call him Daddy next time.

The same goes for if you start being bratty.

König’s kink is not an invitation for you to start acting fussy.

“Oh, it’s too big?” he said, his eyes wide – mirroring and mocking your expression – inching his cock inside you, stretching you over him.

You whined, scowling, eyes doe and glistening.

“Daddy, it hurts!” you squealed. “Take it out, please–”

“Shh, Princess. Don’t make me angry.” König said, his eyes darkening. “Or I’ll make it hurt more.”

Definitely into discipline and spanking.

Will sometimes do it even if you haven’t warranted it.

Slaps your backside and thighs with his belt, breath quivering when he hears the sound of leather against skin, sees the red marks across your body.

And when a wide-eyed, confused expression crosses your face, he just smiles cruelly down at you.

“Shouldn’t be walking around with that tight little ass if you didn’t want me to hit it.”

In more ways than one *wink*.

Outside of the bedroom, calling König ‘Daddy’ is a proven way to get him to do anything for you.

Just bat your eyelashes at him and say in your softest voice: “Daddyyy, the cookie jar’s too far away; will you get it for me?”

And he’s DONE.

“Of course, Princess. Anything for you.”

He’s just so whipped for you.

Looks at you like you’re the Universe and all its celestial creations.

Tends to your every need, without question or hesitation.

Literally will not rest until all your needs are met and surpassed.

Sit in his lap, PLEASE.

He’ll literally just die in his seat if you do. Regardless of how dominant König’s feeling, he’s still vulnerable to your gentle advances.

And just vulnerable to you, to be honest.

But love will do that to a person, and König, a man whose profession made him think he was forced never to feel love himself, has never wanted to protect something - or someone - more.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#konig x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig headcanons #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig smut #könig smut #könig x reader #könig x you #könig mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 #mw2 headcanons #mw2 x you

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creatingblackcharacters · 1 month

Text

“The Same Place as the Music” Lighting & Color

“Where is the light coming from?” “The same place as the music.” Andrew Lesnie, Cinematographer of LOTR

How & Why It's A Problem

If I had to summarize the frustration I have with this topic in one image, I'd use JeCorey Holder's (queer Black creative!) meme:

Now here's the thing. I'm not saying you have to be a master at lighting. I'm surely not. Hell, I still play around with lighting in my art in ways that aren’t the ‘most realistic’. You can’t ask me the technical explanations behind ‘color theory’ or 'contrast' without me doing some more reading. However… I don’t think anyone needs an art degree to understand this point:

We should be able to SEE your brown skinned Black characters!

I brought this up in my lessons about skin tones and blushing, and it applies with lighting as well. If all of your other characters have focused light and shadows, so should your Black characters.

However, this does NOT mean making them lighter-skinned!!!!

It's not funny nor logical at all to suggest that they somehow can't be seen like your other characters when you’re the one creating the piece. It's like a classic fifth-grade racist joke, “You blend in at night”. Har-de-har.

I was once rudely told to my face (well in the DMs) that a Black character that was completely Europeanized looked like that “because of the [sepia] lighting”. So I'm going to give you all, gracious readers, an example to show that that's not true.

This is Ana Flávia, Afro-Brazilian model! Gaze upon her beauty! Notice how in both of these filters, Ana did not, in fact, turn into a white woman! Because, my friends, that is not how that works! At all!

Here are some other examples of Black people in non-color lighting:

None of these people vanished from the frame just because there was no color. They didn't have to paint on lighter makeup to be captured by the camera. What do they all have in common (in this example)?

Lighting!

Now let’s discuss different ways to think about and potentially try instead!

What I want you all to keep in mind, is that the art you’re painting:

And I know that's silly right, like yeah no shit Ice, we knew that. BUT my point here is don’t be afraid to study photography, theatre, and staging for ideas. They actively work with light! It’s why I share so many images of models; it’s purposeful, focused staging of light with many of these compositions!

Brown-skinned Black people- brown-skinned people in general- GLOW in the light! Our skin reflects environmental light! There’s so much opportunity to play with that, and you can see different examples in those mediums.

Here are a couple articles of lighting in film focused on Black actors.

When lighting a person with dark complexion, the answer is not LIGHTENING THE SKIN, it’s understanding how light reflects off of dark skin.” -Nilah Magruder

Nilah Magruder (Black creator!) has an ENTIRE, thorough and wonderful essay on the topic, far better than I could give! She incorporates the use of cameras, lighting, painting, and more- so rather than be redundant here, I'm going to spotlight (ha see what I did there. It's okay, I know I'm funny) her and her explanation.

Incorporating Blackness in Color/Colorful Lighting

@dsm7 has an excellent and short visual explanation of how picking certain colors will lead to washing out or whitewashing Black characters, and how certain lighting and backgrounds (think the black and white photos on brighter backgrounds) will change the way their skin tone looks.

@nicosbighead has one of my favorite images on here, that shows how many different colors can still be used to convey the image of Blackness. Notice how all those pinks still worked?

@gaksdesigns has a beautiful picture here that I feel utilizes the light in a very minimal yet effective way to show highlights even on a palette that's fully brown.

This article approaches from a lighting perspective via filmmaking, but essentially Sade Ndya suggests instead of increasing the amount of light, change the color/lens of the light based on your character’s skin, as well as for the circumstances of the scene. They'll remain vibrant that way, and you’ll still capture what you need.

I know one way I do this on CSP (I think I’ve mentioned this but I can’t remember) is to use the Add Glow tool with the same or a similar shade of the character’s brown skin tone as a highlight under natural light, or maybe use different colors or filters depending on the sort of light on their skin at the time.

Here’s a reddit about it too, just because I know y’all value Reddit on here, and someone else discussed the topic that both Nilah and Sade discussed.

Is It Intentional?

There are going to be times where you intend for the light to be minimal. Maybe it’s a style choice. That should still show purposeful composition. Here’s an interview with famed Black director Ava Duvernay discussing the intentional darkness on Black actors in the prison scene in the movie Selma. To show that they're both trapped in prison AND that Martin is temporarily low on resolve- it's a part of the story that's being told.

I'm always talking about this: there is a difference between intention (and following through), and neglecting to think about it at all. And neglect isn't what we want, because often we can tell visually when it is- when an artist simply did not think to do it for one versus the rest.

Sidenote, on Youtube in the suggestions after Ava's interview, are also plenty of videos discussing lighting for dark-skin as well- why not take the chance to look?

Conclusion

We do not lack for light! We aren’t flat and lightless when you see us in life. It's actually a pretty awesome part of being brown-skinned. If you’re giving proper, flattering lighting to everyone else, give it to us as well. Study and experiment with ways to highlight brown skin.

You already know what I’m going to say. It’s going to take practice, same as anything else, because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #character design #black characters #black art #black character design #black artists

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dragonnarrative-writes · 5 months

Text

Part 3 - Meeting Kyle For Coffee

This is not in chronological order but I needed for this to get out of my head. Takes place after the end of Charlie's Charmed!Slasher!Simon series.

(If you don't want to read it, in the end, Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!)

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle Garrick is just as unreasonably pretty as he ever was, sitting in the cafe and drinking something hot. He’s a bit leaner in the face than you remember from high school. His jaw is sharper, but his smile is still so inviting.

When he spots you coming, his smile seems to light up the whole room.

You say, “Thank you, for agreeing to meet with me. Give me just a minute to order?”

“I ordered you a caramel latte,” he says with a smile. “You still like them?”

“Yeah, I do,” you admit, and sit down.

“I asked them not to start making it until you got here,” he says, taking another sip of his drink. “Figured you’d appreciate it being made fresh. All things considered.”

You blow out a breath and lean back in your chair. “That’s… actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

“I figured,” he says with a grin. “We haven’t talked since just after graduation. We do each other a favor, then say our sad goodbyes. And years later, out of the blue you hit me up? Looking for another favor. Could break a man’s heart.”

You bite your lip and look at the smiling man across from you. A barista appears at your elbow with an almost overfull mug and places it gently on the table. She gives Kyle a grin before flouncing away.

“Cheers,” he says, lifting his own mug in a gentle salute. He waits until you’ve taken a sip to continue. “So, how big is he?”

“What?” When you look up at him, he’s still smiling. His face hasn’t changed. But his brown eyes are flat and empty. Your heart beats just a bit faster.

“How big is he? I don’t do things the way I used to. I need to know so I can make it look like an accident.”

The last time Kyle did you a favor, the coroner had not ruled it an accident. No one had ever been accused of or charged with the death of David Toole-Kirk. But that amount of thallium doesn’t eat a person from the inside out on accident.

“I… um. I didn’t ask you here for that kind of favor,” you say. Your hands are burning where they’re wrapped around your mug. You feel like if you take them off, you’ll freeze under his stare. “I was hoping that you could… give me some advice?”

That brings genuine mirth to Kyle’s eyes. “Oh, this aught to be good.”

“I just… there is a guy,” you say. “Just… Do you… still go… hunting?”

Kyle grins and sits back in his chair. “Hunting?”

“Please answer the question,” you groan.

His grin is wide. His teeth are perfect. “No, can’t say that I do. Bit more of the gardening type now, in my old age.”

“We’re not even thirty,” you say, dumbly.

“This guy you know,” he prompts, barely keeping back laughter. “He likes to… go hunting, then?”

“He’s a pretty avid… hunter,” you say, carefully. “But I was hoping that I might be able to help him find another… hobby?”

Kyle Garrick looks almost ready to burst at the seams with the laughter he’s holding in. If you hadn’t had such a recent and thorough reminder not to get complacent with predators, you might have swatted at him. As it is, you can only clench your jaw as you watch him try and fail to keep a straight face.

“I know,” you hiss, “I know.”

“You really, really don’t,” Kyle wheezes. “Oh my god.”

“He says he doesn’t want to hurt me,” you say, looking around nervously. “But he’s taken me hunting twice, and I can’t do that again.”

That’s what breaks him. He bursts into peals of laughter, peppered with “he’s taken you,”s and “oh my days,”s that fill the whole cafe. It shocks you into giggles.

“Will you quit it!” You eventually whisper-shout.

“How did you manage to meet two of us?” Kyle wipes tears from his eyes. “My word. He’s taken you on hunting trips, and now you want to find him a new hobby.”

“Please,” you hiss. “I’m a little bit desperate and a lot at the end of my rope, here.”

And then Simon Riley’s voice says, right behind you, “Garrick.”

You’re a little bit grateful that Simon’s hands wrap around your wrists from above at the same moment, because otherwise you’d have thrown your coffee in the air. His sternum presses against the crown of your head. You tip your head, just a bit, rolling your eyes up to see him. He’s not looking at you. He’s staring at Kyle.

Kyle grins. “Riley. Good to see you, mate. How’s the family?”

“Still dead, you muppet,” Simon says, pulling out the chair next to you and settling in. When you eye him, he’s got that not-quite-blank look that means he might be thinking about smiling. “How do you know my girl?”

“Went to secondary together,” Kyle says with a grin. “She was bloody terrible at chemistry. Luckily, we got paired up. I helped her with a personal project before she went off to uni. It’s been years. Was pleasantly surprised when she reached out.”

“You’re online?” Simon asks, disdainfully.

“Calls more attention not to be,” Kyle points out.

“Told you,” you can’t help but mumble into your drink.

Simon gives a considering hum and his usual answer. “Technically, I’m dead.” To Kyle he says, not bothering to lower his voice. “If you meet up with her without my permission again, I’ll kill you slow.”

You gape at him, and, daringly, slap his shoulder. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with.”

He leans in to kiss your forehead. “Sure, sweetheart.��

#my writing #cod #fanfiction #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #dark fic #simon riley x you #slasher handler #dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #manic pixie dream ghost

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xvysarene · 1 month

Text

𝕋𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader Prompt: “You left me to drown.” Words: ~2.2k Genre: Light Angst, Comfort, Suggestive (mild) [ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

The sky was awash with streaks of crimson and gold bleeding into the indigo expanse, signaling the impending dusk.

You stopped beside the colossal sea stack, admiring the breathtaking view. Waves crashed against the weathered rocks with gentle tranquility, a stark contrast to the turmoil within your heart.

“Are you done running?” a whispered voice carried away by the salty breeze.

Voice that you hadn’t heard for almost a year.

You couldn’t help the wry chuckle escaping your lips. “Last time I remember, I was the one waking up to an empty bed after a night of giving myself to you.”

Your skin involuntarily tingled with the residual sensation of his touch. His lips, warm and insistent, had traced a map of pleasure across your skin, exploring every curve and contour with a thoroughness that left you breathless and wanting more.

Months-long restrained emotion bubbled up to the surface. "Thomas couldn't find you, your aunt couldn't find you, even your bodyguard couldn't find you. So pray tell Rafayel, are you done running?"

Even in the fading light, you could see him taken aback by the hostility dripping from your words.

“I thought you would be happy to see me after all of this time.”

Exasperatedly you turned towards him, finding him standing several steps away from you.

He looked the same, if not even more handsome, and you hated that it made the fury inside your heart momentarily dim.

All-white button-up and trousers hugged his figure, one he knew that you loved as if it was a tactic to unravel you. He was a blank canvas in the explosion of colours surrounding you both.

“No notes, no messages, all I'm left with is a ridiculously priced ring adorning my finger." You rubbed the now empty ring finger, still feeling the phantom weight of the gemstone.

He didn’t miss the gesture. “Did you not like the ring? Is that why you threw it away to the depth of the sea?”

“Is that all you can say after walking out of my life?” Your voice rising, annoyed at his nonchalance.

Annoyed at the absurdity of this situation like you hadn’t seen each other for months.

His brows furrowed at the accusation. “I did not walk out of your life, didn’t you receive the stuff I sent you?”

If he was referring to the plethora of stuff stacked inside a box under your bed collecting dust, then yes you did receive them.

You had attempted to decipher the meaning behind the items he sent each month, desperately trying to connect them with his whereabouts, but to no avail.

Even with the resources and connections Thomas had, Rafayel seemed to be always one step ahead, not leaving any breadcrumbs of where he might have gone next.

“You are present in all of my paintings; you remain a constant in my thoughts,” he continued when you remained silent.

Since his departure, new paintings arrived biweekly or monthly at Mo Art Studio, each delivery serving as a soothing balm for Thomas's weary soul.

It wasn't until his manager pointed out certain colour choices and what you had always considered random lines and patterns that you began to notice elements of yourself in his paintings; the shade of your irises, the main lines on your palms, the arch of your eyebrows watching his antics.

You gritted your teeth. “Provide a reasonable explanation for your lack of verbal communication.”

He tore away from your gaze, suddenly looking timid, hand rubbing the back of his neck. It was a habit of his whenever he felt nervous. “I embark on a self-discovery,” he began.

“I needed some time for internal reflection. It allows me to really dive deep into my thoughts and emotions without any external distractions—just let me explain first,” he said rapidly before you could chide him on thinking that you were a distraction.

Honestly, you couldn’t even voice out any response as that wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“I've been overly reliant on you, and limiting our communication forced me to depend on my own. I want to be someone you can rely on instead; someone you can lean and depend on.”

“What about that woman, then?” you blurted out, the question heavy on the tip of your tongue ever since you had first come across the article.

It had been seven months and two weeks since his absence when you stumbled upon the article.

Normally, you weren't particularly tuned into the fashion industry, but somehow the news from Nexusburg had found its way onto your daily curated feed.

You had vaguely recognised the designer’s striking face and figure. Your attention, however, zoomed in on those unmistakable tendrils of dusky purple hair, despite most of his head being obscured by the dark tint of the limousine’s window.

“I commissioned her to create… something of great significance.” You sensed ambiguity lacing his words. “You know how reporters constantly fabricate stories that lack truth."

“Do they, really? Lack of truth?”

Rafayel approached you with hesitant steps, fearing you might slip away from his advance.

“You left me to drown, Rafayel.” The words pierced through him like shards of glass. “Drowning in ‘what if’s’, drowning in my insecurity.”

As he drew near, he took in the multitude of emotions playing across your face: hurt, confusion, anger.

“You were gone for eight months. Eight months! Did you believe that merely slipping a ring onto my finger would make me feel better for your absence?”

The anger drained your body of energy as you sank onto the rock behind. Jagged edges kept you painfully aware that this was reality, not a mere figment of your imagination.

“I'm sorry,” he pleaded.

"You're selfish, Rafayel," your voice trembled with a mixture of anger and hurt. "You know my insecurity gets the best of me at times, and yet you didn't even stop to think for once on how I would feel…this is not the first time."

You could see the moment realisation began to flicker in his bluish-pink eyes.

When Rafayel hired a new female bodyguard and began spending a significant amount of time with her, it left you feeling uneasy.

It wasn’t until his own bodyguard confronted him in front of you, chastising him for neglecting your feelings and the lack of communication as she noticed your distress, that you finally felt at ease with their relationship. You understood their brother-sister dynamics.

But this time, days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months since you last saw him. Doubts began to plague your mind.

“It was nothing like that,” he protested. “Nexusburg was my last stop. I had thought of returning as soon as the designer finished her work.”

The article's prominently highlighted phrase 'SECRET ROMANCE' had stirred your restless heart to its breaking point that day.

You recalled standing atop the very sea stack towering behind you, witnessing the light glinting off the ring as you cast it into the unforgiving waves below.

"You went on a journey of self-discovery, but it seems like you've forgotten why you needed it in the first place.”

Rafayel's heart constricted with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel that way, I—I thought you would understand.”

Then, he retrieved something from his pocket, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“How…?!”

The marquise-cut lilac tanzanite glimmered with a captivating hue, casting a hypnotic light against the backdrop of twilight skies. Delicate accents of soft pink pearls surrounded the gemstone, lending a gentle touch to the intricate design.

It still managed to steal your breath away, its beauty as enchanting as ever.

"I specifically requested the bijoutier to blend my crushed scales into the band. It brings me comfort knowing that you’re safe, and knowing that you think of me whenever you touch it.”

He traced his finger along the smooth surface of the gemstone, the memory of him quietly placing the ring while you slept was as clear as yesterday in his mind.

The outline of your figure etched against the soft glow of dawn. Vivid shade of pinkish-red blemishes against your skin, evidence of the intense night shared between the two of you.

“It motivates me to finish my journey, so I can return to your embrace as soon as possible… Until you threw it away and I thought of the worst.”

You gazed at him in disbelief as he unveiled that the ring held far greater significance than you had ever imagined.

Who would have thought that he could charm the ring that way? Everything slowly made sense why he had immediately called you repeatedly moments after you threw the ring.

Then there was Aunt Talia rushing towards you, tousled and wide-eyed, far from her normally immaculate appearance as you made your way back down.

Barefooted, as if she had rushed out of her nearby house in a hurry.

He returned just two days after you had discarded the ring. When calls were left unanswered, he enlisted Thomas and his bodyguard.

You had threatened to call the police on Thomas when he couldn’t stop appearing in front of your front door. His bodyguard, the only one with a working mind it seemed, nodded in understanding and promptly ushered Thomas away from your doorstep.

“The ring reminds me of you,” longing laced your voice.

As you glanced down at the beauty, the sparkling gemstone and pearls seemed to reflect his hair and eye colour. Its elaborate design mirrored his complexity; intricate and beautiful yet multifaceted.

“And here I thought that you didn’t like the pearls I handpicked… I knew that it was too good to be true when the oysters were being friendlier than usual.”

Pale skin crimsoned as he snapped his mouth shut. His flow of thoughts always seemed to have a mind of their own, escaping from his mouth before he could rein them in.

It was frustrating how you still found it endearing, even at times like this. Perhaps the lover you knew hadn’t changed much after all.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, "Rafayel, you can't just waltz into my life again as if nothing happened.”

"I know I messed up, Y/N," he admitted, his eyes pleading for understanding. “But I couldn’t stand away any longer."

Despite your anger towards his actions, you couldn't deny how much you had missed him too.

He inched closer, giving you plenty of time to move away, however, you remained rooted to the spot.

Familiar strands of dusky purple hair, the very ones you had passionately tangled your fingers in as he ravished you the last time, just within arm's reach now.

A hand reached out, moving away your salty-breeze ruffled hair from covering your face.

"Why did you choose to see me again at last?"

Aunt Talia had invited you for a high tea, weeks after Rafayel's persistent attempts to see you finally ceased. Deep down, you knew that this was another attempt made by him.

But you remembered how the older woman had opened her doors whenever the insecurity became too strong during his absence, and it felt disrespectful to sever ties just because you weren't ready to face her nephew.

“Rafayel is coming,” Aunt Talia calmly said moments earlier.

The clink of her cup meeting the saucer caused you to jerk, tea sloshing around your rose-adorned cup dangerously.

“You’re free to leave anytime, I’m not going to force you to meet him.”

Looking up, you found orchid-coloured eyes boring into yours.

“Just keep in mind that he will never stop searching for you. Yes, he’s selfish, but you know how us, Lemurians, are,” she sighed then, “ We're relentless when it comes to protecting what we cherish. And you, my dear, hold a special place in his heart.”

"I needed to understand why you did what you did, why you left without a word,” you finally admitted.

Regret flickered his eyes. "I should have been more considerate.”

As his long fingers traced the curve of your jaw, your breath hitched. It had been too long since you felt his caress against your skin, and you found yourself longing for more.

Laboured breaths and dilated pupils told you that his body had reacted similarly. Finding the mutual desire in your eyes, he closed the gap between you without any word.

Lips collided in a fervent kiss. Fueled by a mix of pent-up pain and yearning. Each brush of his lips against yours was a plea for forgiveness, a desperate attempt to mend the fractures in your relationship.

Bodies molded together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle long overdue for completion. There was an insatiable hunger for each other that needed to be satisfied.

“I will wait for you, whenever you're ready to accept me again in your life,” he murmured gently as his lips parted from yours.

You met his gaze, seeing the sincerity in those bright orbs you loved so much, and felt a tug at your heart. Silently, he took your hand and slid the ring back onto your finger, to its rightful place.

The same lips that you had just kissed earlier were now on top of the lilac gemstone.

“Keep this so I know that you’re safe, and whenever you’re ready—” Artist's palms cradled your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly. “I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle, witnessing your beauty wearing the veil I've designed just for you."

As the light faded on the horizon, you realised that perhaps this love was worth fighting for, even if it meant navigating through the perilous waters of forgiveness and redemption.

#ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐱𝐞𝐩𝐡'𝐬 writing nook #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x y/n #love and deepspace x you #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x you #light angst #comfort #suggestive

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tihgnari · 11 months

Text

ꕤ 50. i think i ruined your PJs (ღ)

tw: none! :') / wc: 1.7k

you stare at your phonescreen, watching it vibrate on the kitchen counter. your hands sweat, and your heart races, as you hesitate to answer his call, contemplating about what to say.

a door slams and thoma appears in front of you in an instant. paper bags of fast food left on the dining table. "what are you doing?" he says, eyeing the phone before staring back at you. "answer it al—"

the phone stops ringing, ayato's caller ID disappears, and it returns to your lock screen. the panic you feel is indescribable, and you defeatedly think of calling him back and saying sorry for being unable to answer his call the first time.

ayaka lets out a pained groan. "you both are absolutely impossible! why didn't you answer it?!"

"i was nervous! i don't know what to say—"

"just answer it already!" thoma exclaims with a frustrated expression similar to ayaka's.

you wanted to pull your hair. why can't you just woman up and answer it?! you grab your phone off the counter, irritated at yourself, as you snap back at thoma.

"well, i can't anymore. it stopped ringing!"

as if on cue, the phone lights up, vibrating in your hands as your heart drops once again at the sight of ayato's caller ID. thoma audibly gasps and hurriedly rounds the kitchen counter to grab your shoulders. "answer it! now!"

"alright!" you push his hands away before clearing your throat, trying to level your voice so he won't find out that you were 100% freaking out at his sudden call.

"hello?" you speak into the phone. after a few seconds, when no one answers, you hesitantly say. "…ayato?"

no one is speaking on the other end, you can't even detect faint breathing. you pull the phone away from your ear, checking to see if the call is still ongoing, and the increasing seconds displayed on your lock screen confirm that it is. why isn't he speaking? should i not have answered?

faintly, you hear thoma and ayaka's enthusiastic "what's he saying?" behind you, but you stay silent, waiting for him. you open your mouth, wanting to address the person on the other line once again, when—

"hey."

his voice sounds defeated as if he's been crying for hours. you knew he wasn't in a good state right now from the voice alone.

your cheeks heat up, and you grip the phone harder. "hey," you answer stupidly, dazed and running on autopilot as you space out. every fiber and molecule of your being on edge as you give ayato your full attention.

you bite your lips, wanting to say a certain something to him after going weeks and weeks of not speaking to him. however, you held yourself back.

"i was thinking," ayato starts. "maybe you'd like to talk? you know… about everything?"

a small smile appears on your face, and you unconsciously nod even if he won't see you.

"i'd love to."

—

"are you really sure you guys don't wanna come up with me?" you ask ayaka, who sits behind the wheel in her white lexus and thoma in the back seat. you three are at the parking lot of the hotel ayato told you where he was staying.

he initially asked where you were so he could come to you, but after thorough persuasion, he relented on you going to him instead.

ayaka takes off her seat belt. "we're sure. he only asked to see you."

"just update us about how he's been. we'll wait for you here." thoma says.

you nod, stepping out of the car and walking toward the elevator. you met eyes with a woman at the front desk. she bows to you, a customer-service smile on her face, as she approaches you. ayato says he'd ring the front desk, so you can just come straight to his suite. the woman follows you to the elevator and taps the key card into a scanner before pressing a certain floor. whether or not she recognizes you, she doesn't say nor make it noticeable as she turns her heel back to the front desk.

you chew on your bottom lip, emotions running at an all-time high. you don't even notice the popping sensation in your ears as the floors get higher, your mind preoccupied with what you'll say to him, how you'll act. after all, the last proper conversation you had with him was back at their hospital's VIP room—which is weeks ago, give or take, and it did not even end well.

the elevator dings! and the doors open, sealing your fate.

there were only three rooms on this floor, and ayato instructed you to make two lefts to get to his room at the end of the hallway. the carpet is spotless, and your dirty white sneakers look so out of place as you make your way to his suite. just as you raise your hand to ring the doorbell, the door swings open, and there stands before you in all his glory—

"ayato," you say, dumbstruck. you don't notice how he is in mismatched silk pajamas, nor how a few of his hair stands on weird angles; you see his already pale skin that looks paler than usual and the bags under his tired eyes.

"yn—hey," he says, just as dazed as you. as if he can't believe you're actually standing before him right now. "uhm, come in."

the first thing you see is the thick white curtains hiding the floor-to-ceiling windows, blocking out the skies' magnificent orange and yellow hues as the sun has begun to set. the suite looked much like any other hotel room, only it looked fancier and more luxurious with its white marble accents paired with wooden furniture. the living room is well-lit, and from where you're standing, the sliding door to the bedroom is open, allowing you a slight peak.

you see a leather bag open on the lamp desk, chargers, and other necessities placed haphazardly around it. one of his carry-on is sprawled open on the floor behind the bed, while the rest is zipped shut at the far corner of the room, looking untouched.

"so—"

"yn—"

you both speak at the same time. he meets your eyes sheepishly, letting out a small laugh, a hand rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly. "ladies first," he insists, and you don't argue.

"when did you fly back? seems to me you've been here for a few days now," you say, looking around. "i thought for sure you were still in another country."

"oh, i flew back a day after the wedding."

you nodded understandingly.

silence surrounds you both until ayato breaks it.

"would you like anything to drink or eat? i can order room service."

you smile, "a glass of water would be fine."

"alright, take a seat."

so you settle yourself on the plush sofa as he disappears in the kitchen for a few minutes before coming back to place your water on the low coffee table. you expected him to sit nearer to you, however he sits on the sofa across from you, and a frown tugs at your lips until you remember he's just being cautious. you guys did end on a bad note…

when your eyes meet, he shoots you a small smile as he nods. giving you the opportunity to speak first.

"well, i wanna start by saying i'm sorry," you interlace your fingers together on your lap. "for deceiving you. you definitely did not deserve that, i just got so scared—that i'd lose ayaka, and what your reaction would be if you found out… which you did, still."

ayato hums. "i understand your point, with ayaka. however i'm still quite hurt with our dates, as i did put my utmost time and effort into them," a solemn tone takes over his voice, and you can feel your heart breaking. "i would've accepted a proper rejection. i know how to respect a woman's decision."

"no." you answer in a heartbeat. "look, i know sabotaging our dates can possibly come off as me not reciprocating your feelings but that was just me making bad decisions."

ayato blinks, dumb founded. it takes time for him to properly start speaking. "i'm afraid i'm not following…?"

you sigh, not really knowing what to say—well, technically, you knew what to say, you just didn't know how.

well, might as well bite the bullet and blurt it out.

"i like you, ayato. i like you so much, even if i know i don't deserve you. because… because…" you didn't know you were crying, attention focused on the man in front of you to even notice the wetness of your cheeks.

your throat feels clogged up, and you choke on your words, unable to carry their weight. "i know how much i hurt you. i lied to you and didn't even stop to think about what you could've felt, i completely disregarded your efforts, and i was selfish. so i get it, when you told… told me that you shouldn't have liked me because i wouldn't… wouldn't like someone like me either —"

his scent engulfs you whole as he pulls you into an embrace. you feel a slight tremble in his hands as he firmly holds onto you, almost as if making it a confirmation if you truly were in between his arms. you break down in front of someone for the first time in weeks, your mind playing flashbacks of how you had to stifle your crying in the bathroom so ayaka won't hear.

it was as if a dam broke, and you couldn't stop your tears from cascading down your cheeks. you didn't know what you were crying about — you can't exactly pinpoint if it was because of this concrete fear of nearly losing ayato, of the harsh criticisms of the public, or you were just so overjoyed to be in his arms without having to worry about anyone or anything.

despite all the snot and tears you're probably getting on his expensive pajamas, ayato holds you tight, gently rocking you back and forth because he knew, he just knew, that his silent presence can comfort you more than his words at that exact moment.

after you have calmed down, resorting to small sniffles every now and then, did you decide to pull away. not completely, just enough to meet his gentle eyes. he smiles, tilting his head. "do you feel better?"

you nod slightly, shame suddenly washing over you.

"i'm sorry, i think i ruined your PJs."

"oh, these?" he shrugs his shoulder, laughing. "i have ten more sets of these, and you can cry on each and every single one of them if you want to."

LOWKEY » previous : masterlist : next

a kamisato ayato social media au

summary — it was only recently you found out kamisato ayaka was, in fact, not an only child after all! seeing ayato for the first time gave you the severest case of the butterflies but according to ayaka, he’s off limits, especially to you as her most treasured friend. well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?

notes — the end lol jk

🏷 i. @rinrinchin @nejibot @viiolettee @katsumikumo @starryeyedkoko @xingqiusliegee @boxdisappeared @lovelyycherries @love6cks @kiyowoir @luvvmeilin @blackberri-jelli @moonlightbqe @kazooms @tricethecharm @lynnforever @kaedear @xiaoisahawtie @crowbird @apotatouwu @xinii @euryrue @aequha@nuttytani @plinkuro @aixaingela @milesluvrrad @windasteriaa @cherrytomato2 @zannivrs @eishtar @wccycc @ceylestia @sweet-almonds @queenaveryrules @veyu002 @ukinya @adeptusx @x-xxiaos @loveyoutothestars @ssalamanderr

#genshin imagines #genshin smau #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x you #kamisato ayato smau #ayato kamisato imagines

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wildemaven · 7 months

Text

he makes life better | joel miller

-> pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x reader

-> word count: 1335

-> content warning: 18+ blog; bad day, annoyed with work, dealing with flat tire, joel being sweet, lots of fluff

-> note: this is for my sweet friend @gnpwdrnwhiskey hoping this brings a smile to her face 💞 this isn’t beta’d either so it’s probably filled with mistakes lol.

masterlist

Joel ❤️: How’s your day going Honey?

I’m so ready for my shift to be over. I’d rather read the dictionary, front to back, than deal with the shit they have me doing today.

RING

“That bad, huh?” Joel’s voice brings you an instant smile when you answer his call, silently stepping away from the mess that you were dealing with at work.

“You have no idea. It already feels like it’s been the longest week, today has just added to the shit show life keeps throwin’ at me lately. Went to leave for work this morning and I had a flat tire. Ugh! I’m sorry for complaining.” You vent to him, tucking yourself in a secluded corner. You were going against policy by taking a personal call while on the clock, but you didn’t care about company policy or the outcome of you were to get caught at the moment— Joel was your only focus right now.

“Hey, none of that. Don’t apologize for being stressed. Why didn’t ya call me ‘bout your tire?” Joel asked.

You know he would’ve dropped everything the minute did call him, which is also why you didn’t. He had been stressing over starting at a new job site, one of the biggest ones he had been hired for. The last thing you wanted was to add to his already busy day of things he had to deal with.

“You’d already left for work and had that new job you’ve been talkin’ about. Didn’t wanna bother you with it. I called AAA and had them put the spare on for me so I could drop it off at the tire shop. Now, I’m unexpectedly the owner of 4 new tires.”

“I don’t care how busy I am— you need something, you call me, no matter what. Got that, Honey?”

“Got it, Joel. Thank you.” You smile into the phone at his concern for you, always finding ways to make you fall even deeper in love with him.

“Good. Hey, I gotta go. Tommy looks like he’s about ready to break his back. I should probably go help him before he actually does and my insurance takes a hit. I’ll see ya tonight then, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. I should be outta here in 3 hours.” The end to your long shift, almost over.

“That sounds great! I love you, Honey. I’ll see ya later.” You can faintly hear Tommy cursing in the background.

“Love you too, Joel.” You tell him before the line goes dead. Giving yourself a few minutes of quiet before heading back to join your team and the never ending line of customers.

The rest of your shift goes by fairly quickly. Joel’s phone call must have been just the moral boost you needed to sprinkle a little bit of extra positivity into your day.

The minute the clock hit 5 pm, you wasted no time clocking out and logging out of your computer for the day. Deliberately bypassing your usual exit path to avoid any chatty coworkers, Joel and home your main focus of the rest of your day, you weren’t going to waste any time stuck in drawn out conversations.

Your purse thrown over your shoulder, work apron crumpled in one hand and the other holding your empty tumbler that once held the warm delicious coffee you had hoped would sustain you through the day, now wishing it was filled with something a little stronger to help you unwind when you got home.

It’s a struggle trying to juggle your things as you search for your keys, lost somewhere in the depths of your purse along with the rest of your life's necessities. You pause in the middle of an empty parking space near where your jeep is parked to give the search your full attention. After some thorough digging, you locate your keys and let out an exasperated sigh, one step closer to being home.

Taking a step forward as you press the unlock button on your key, you look up to see an unexpected sight. A familiar truck in the parking spot next to yours, and the most handsome man leaning on it. He looks like he came straight from the job sight, too. His peppered grey hair disheveled, but his soft curls were still intact even after a long day. The sleeves of your favorite green flannel are rolled up over his flexed forearms that are crossed against his chest, the fabric stretched over his broad shoulders.

The sight of him is enough to melt away any of the bullshit you had endured over the past week, a completely welcomed surprise.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, letting your feet carry you the rest of the way to him.

“Heard you were havin’ a shitty day. Couldn’t let my lady end it on a bad note.” He croons, pushing himself off the side of his truck, opening his arms to you.

You melt into him, your face nestled into his shoulder. His rugged scent of musky vanilla and natural pheromones is permanently infused into the fibers of his shirt, it’s your favorite thing ever. His strong arms wrap around you as he presses a soft kiss to your temple, prompting you to straighten up, looking into his amber eyes.

“Hi, Cowboy.” You beam at him.

“Hi.” He says, leaning in to gently mold his lips over yours. “I’ve got a surprise for ya, Honey.”

“This was enough of a surprise for me. What more could I need?” Stealing another kiss from him.

“If I tell ya, it won’t be a surprise then, will it?” He says, tilting his head slightly as he looks at you.

“I guess you have a point.”

“We’ve gotta get going though, it’s time sensitive.” He grabs for your things and walks you around to the passenger door, holding it open as you climb in. “We’ll grab your jeep in the mornin’, if that’s okay with you?”

“Whatever you say, Cowboy.” He leans back in for another kiss, before making his way around into the driver’s seat.

The drive isn’t long. Down some familiar roads that lead to a dirt one off the main highway. His truck travels down the gravel road lined with a barbed wire fence. After a few minutes he’s pulling off to the side and killing the engine.

“You brought me to my favorite place.” Looking over to his side of the truck, where he’s already looking in your direction. Your heart grows at how he thought to bring you here, knowing how much joy it brings you every time.

“Thought you could use it. Look, here they come.” He says pointing to your window.

Off in the distance, the small herd of cows were in pursuit of their evening meal and water break. Mamas with their little rambunctious calves trailing behind, trekking along the same path they travel each evening.

It’s a calming sight. Their heads bobbling with each dramatic step. Tails whipping over their rear ends to swat away the annoying flies. A few stopping mid trek to look in your direction, letting out a long drawn out moo. Their friendly hello, it’s good to see you again, then back on the move.

The sky is painted in pinks and purples as the sun dips below the horizon. Your day feeling less shitty as you sit silently in the cab of Joel’s truck. His hand resting on your thigh while his thumb draws soft circles over thick denim seam.

“Thank you for this. Didn’t realize how much I needed it. I love you, Joel.” You tell him, rolling your head over the headrest in his direction.

“I did it because I love you, Honey. And s’what I’m here for.” There’s a low rumble in the air as he turns the key over, shifting the truck into drive. “Now, how ‘bouts we head on home and I spend the rest of the evenin’ show you all the other ways I love you?”

“Take me home, Cowboy.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us au #no outbreak!joel miller #TLOU #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

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