Neogogori - Anael (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

Intertidal Zone

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.

♱⋅── word count: 6.7k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf

art credit to @/khouxy on instagram

You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose. 

The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.

It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.

It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind. 

Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night. 

“How’s your drawing?” 

Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but. 

“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.

He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder. 

“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?” 

You hoped the together was implicit by now.

But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”

Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness. 

Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was. 

Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship. 

You’re leaning in despite yourself. 

Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away. 

You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before. 

When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”

The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him. 

But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.

He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.  

"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."

A laugh. Dry, humorless. 

His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.” 

You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.

"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"

"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."

"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.” 

Like he’s always fucking starving.

Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”

You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.

“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"

Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."

You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."

"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"

The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more. 

“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.” 

Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.

“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”

His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another. 

“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”

You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.

More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you. 

The glass lays shattered against the floor. 

Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses. 

“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.” 

The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever. 

“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”

“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts. 

“Fuck.” 

You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”

You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you. 

By the third time, you know something is wrong. 

It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long. 

But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues. 

So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up. 

You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel. 

His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again— 

It’s the cold that wakes you up. 

Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs. 

“Rafayel?”

A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand. 

“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console. 

He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.

Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.

"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.

Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."

The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.

Yet again, he stops you halfway.

“Do you want to go back to your room first?”

At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point. 

“You’re not coming with me?” 

Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”

“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”

“Cutie…”

“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”

Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?” 

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.

Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”

“What kind of promise?”

A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”

There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true. 

So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”

Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true. 

Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching. 

You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.  

Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”

Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.

Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets. 

You need him. 

Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.

The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire. 

And then the room is all too hot once again. 

Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated. 

A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing. 

Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.

You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.

How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.

And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.

Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”

Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—

Without him.

A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.

You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"

The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs. 

There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains. 

You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition. 

It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it. 

Shit. This is Rafayel’s room. 

You must be trying to kill him.

Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.

Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.

The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.

Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart. 

It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.

Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.

He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.

But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul. 

It’s not fair.

No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.

Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.

Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left? 

Shit. He’s hard.

“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?” 

The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites. 

The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide. 

Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”

The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear. 

Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.

As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.

A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you. 

Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him. 

You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.

The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.

But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.

Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.

He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.

There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.

It's the last breath you take.

An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.

“Rafayel? What are you doing here?” 

The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs. 

Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.

You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”

Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again. 

You can feel the cloth slipping.

But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.

It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.

So you bite him. 

“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”

Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile. 

Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.

"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat. 

“Or was that intentional?”

The look in his eyes is feral. 

There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper. 

The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again. 

“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”

He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin. 

“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”

Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours. 

Oh.

A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.

Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—

“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."

A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.

"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."

Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess. 

He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you. 

“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”

He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”

Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit. 

Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk. 

“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”

Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.

Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again. 

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—

The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.

“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whipping his chin as he goes to decline the call.

But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard you tried to take Rafayel from you tonight. 

“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”

Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept. 

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”

Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back. 

His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm. Ripping his shirt’s buttons off you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man. 

“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses. 

No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again. 

You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest. 

And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more. 

Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”

“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”

Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,” before flashing twice, still running. 

Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.

“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”

“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."

He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.

“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”

“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”

“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”

At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you. 

You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in. 

His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots. 

Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.

Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.

It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.

But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.

Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.

He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.

"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.

But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.

"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."

He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.

Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.

"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there. 

It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.

Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.

It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips. 

And that alone is enough.

Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still. 

"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."

You're cumming.

He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears. 

Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies. 

As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods. 

God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun. 

The one who's still kneeling before you. 

The one who you love. 

"Maximum voicemail length reached, recording sent."

♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.

Oh the things I’d give to hear Raf sing~

the sillies

✎ …  jeno and jungwoo layout  ♡ ˎˊ˗  

ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢᵗ

☞ … 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵

𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 ♡ᵎ

guess who loves the season 3 op so much they redrew it in timeskip (this guy)

𝑨 𝑪𝑨𝑻-𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑰𝑪 𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑺𝑬 . ݁₊ ⊹ . 🐈 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩

.°⋆🖇₊˚ෆ summary: a contact with a cursed object leaves you with cat ears, tail and feline instincts that you can barely suppress, much to nanami’s amusement.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ teddy’s notes: yeah… this happened instead of studying… anyways… enjoy!!

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ contains: 4,2k words, fluff, crack maybe?? attempts at humour?? also yes, there is some usage of “kitten” “kitty” because duh, but like you blame sylus for me even remotely using kitten, he made it sounds nice and not cringe >:(( reader is gender neutral i think? anyway yeah

nanami is not the type to overreact. he’s not even the type to react normally half the time—always composed, always logical. but when he turns to check on you after the curse has been exorcised and sees the ears, his brain completely stalls.

you’re standing there, oblivious at first, stretching your arms over your head. but on top of your head, nestled in your hair, are a pair of cat ears with fur matching your hair color—twitching, moving with your every breath. behind you, a tail flicks back and forth, irritated, as if it has a mind of its own.

nanami’s eye twitches.

“what?” you ask, noticing his stare.

he exhales sharply and pulls out his phone. within seconds, he’s holding it up in front of your face, the front camera on.

you blink at your reflection. tilt your head. the ears move.

you freeze.

your tail flicks.

“what the hell,” you whisper.

“you’ve been cursed,” nanami confirms, his voice too even.

“no shit.” you reach up, grabbing at your new ears, and—oh. they’re real. they’re attached.

your tail flicks again, and in a split-second decision, you spin around, trying to catch it.

nanami lets out a very sharp exhale, and you snap your gaze back to him.

his expression is calm, as usual, but his hand has come up to his face, two fingers resting lightly against his mouth.

oh.

he’s holding back.

“don’t,” you warn.

“don’t what?”

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not laughing.” but his voice has gone softer, like he’s physically restraining himself.

you narrow your eyes, tail still flicking behind you. “you’re enjoying this.”

“not at all.” he replies, too smoothly.

—

side effects include: extreme embarrassment.

it doesn’t take long for the curse to really kick in.

first, the naps.

you don’t even realize you’re doing it at first, but nanami sure does.

every time he looks over, you’re curled up somewhere new—on the couch, in a patch of sunlight on the floor, tucked into a corner of his office like a loaf of bread. once, he finds you sitting on the windowsill, your arms wrapped around your knees, eyes fluttering shut as the sun beams down on you.

the first few times, he lets you be. maybe you were just extra tired. but after the fourth, he starts keeping track.

“you’re sleeping a lot,” he finally comments.

“not my fault,” you mumble, shifting slightly in your very comfortable sunspot. “stupid curse.”

but the problem isn’t just that you’re sleeping—it’s how you sleep.

nanami starts noticing that you don’t just nap anywhere, you nap strategically. you find the warmest places, the coziest corners, the softest blankets. once, he leaves his sweater on the couch, and when he returns, he finds you curled up in it, hugging it close.

he stares at you for a long moment, taking in the sight of you completely nesting in his clothes, tail loosely wrapped around your legs.

he quietly walks away. he will not let himself react to this.

but the worst part is that you wake up every time he moves. your ears twitch, head lifting slightly, as if you’re tracking his movements.

like right now.

“you’re watching me,” you mumble, eyes barely open.

nanami clears his throat. “your ears are following me before you do.”

“oh,” you say. then, after a pause: “gross.”

he sighs.

next, the instincts.

one morning, nanami reaches for his coffee, and you flinch. your ears flatten before you even process what’s happening.

he stops mid-motion, brows slightly furrowed. “you okay?”

you rub your face, trying to snap out of it. “yeah, yeah. just—” you wave a hand vaguely. “brain is lagging.”

he says nothing more, but he does watch as your ears slowly perk up again, regaining their usual alertness.

the flinching happens a few more times—when a book drops off the table, when he moves too suddenly, when you hear an unexpected noise. each time, nanami makes note of it, though he never comments.

until one night.

you’re both sitting on the couch, watching something on tv, when nanami stretches his arm out to grab the remote.

your ears flick down, your body tensing.

and then—before you can stop yourself—you gently boop his hand away.

you blink. he blinks.

you both slowly turn to look at each other.

nanami loses it.

it’s not much—just a sharp exhale, a slight shake of his head—but you know. you know he’s laughing at you.

but the worst moment—the one that nearly destroys him—

he sees you standing in the hallway, completely still, staring at a piece of string hanging from his robe.

he watches, silent, as your pupils dilate.

and then—without a single thought—you bat at it.

you freeze. nanami freezes.

his lips part slightly, as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out.

your tail flicks.

slowly, you retract your hand. “forget that.”

nanami exhales through his nose, tilting his head back, rubbing his temple like he’s in physical pain.

“i think i need to sit down.”

bonus: the things nanami won’t talk about.

how you now hate closed doors and will paw at them until he opens them, even if you have no reason to be on the other side.

how, when he scratches the back of your head just right, you go completely still and lean into his hand.

how you’ve started stalking small objects in the house, crouching low like you’re about to pounce.

how, when he puts something on a high shelf, you immediately try to climb up to retrieve it, despite the fact that you have no reason to need it.

—

nanami, menace mode: activated.

the first time it happens, you don’t think much of it.

you’re lying on the couch, comfortably sprawled out, your tail flicking lazily at the edge of the cushion. it’s a quiet evening, nanami reading a book beside you, nothing out of the ordinary.

until—

a small red dot appears on the wall.

your ears twitch.

you don’t mean to react, but your pupils dilate, your tail goes rigid, and your body tenses like you’re about to pounce.

nanami notices.

slowly, your brain catches up with your instincts, and you snap your gaze toward him.

he’s sitting there, book still in hand, utterly calm—but his free hand is resting suspiciously in his lap.

you know.

“you did not,” you hiss.

nanami, completely unbothered, clicks the laser pointer off, looking far too pleased with himself. “i had to be sure.”

“be sure of what?”

he gestures vaguely toward your twitching tail. “that.”

your mouth opens, then closes. you whip your head away, ears flicking wildly, refusing to meet his gaze.

nanami hums, flipping a page in his book. “interesting.”

you do not like the sound of that.

the second time.

you’re trying to read when you feel it.

that primal urge. that deep, instinctive feeling that something is moving nearby.

your eyes flick to the floor.

the red dot is back.

this time, you’re prepared. you refuse to fall for it. you dig your nails into your book, ignoring the way your tail starts to flick.

nanami, who is not even pretending to be subtle anymore, leans back in his chair, expression unreadable.

he lazily moves the laser across the floor.

your ears betray you. they twitch.

“don’t you dare,” you warn.

the dot moves faster.

you grip the couch cushion, trying to steady yourself.

“nanami—”

but it’s already too late.

before you can stop yourself, you lunge.

your hand smacks against the floor, but—nothing.

the dot is gone.

silence.

slowly, you lift your head.

nanami is staring down at you, arms crossed, expression neutral—but his eyes are shining with amusement.

you hate him.

“i,” you say, voice trembling with shame, “am going to kill you.”

“mhm.” he uncaps his pen, noting something down. “fascinating.”

the third time.

you’re onto him now. you know his games.

so when the red dot appears in your peripheral vision, you refuse to acknowledge it. you will win.

you cross your arms, staring blankly at the tv. your ears do not twitch. your tail does not flick. you are stronger than this.

the dot moves.

your jaw tightens.

it moves again.

you do not react.

nanami makes a soft sound. almost a hmm.

the dot stops.

victory.

or so you think.

until nanami casually says—

“if you ignore it, i will start using catnip.”

your head whips around so fast you nearly get whiplash. “you wouldn’t.”

he doesn’t respond. he just looks at you.

you squint. “you have some, don’t you?”

“i have my methods.”

“you absolute menace—”

nanami simply clicks the laser off, sets it aside, and continues reading like he didn’t just threaten your dignity.

you’re going to strangle him.

—

an opportunity he couldn’t miss.

it’s a lazy afternoon, and you’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone again. nanami is beside you, reading, but there’s an air of playfulness between the two of you now. his casual teasing has become more frequent, and you’re starting to suspect he’s enjoying the little quirks the curse has brought out in you.

he glances over at you with that familiar, slightly teasing smile on his face.

“come here, kitten,” he says, the words dripping with mock sweetness.

you freeze, the soft sound of his voice luring you in like a siren’s call. you tilt your head just slightly, your ears twitching in that way, your tail giving a soft flick as if it recognizes the invitation.

for a split second, you almost respond.

almost.

you barely catch yourself in time, holding your breath as the instinct pulls at you. but you don’t want to be too obvious. you don’t want to fall into the trap.

but then, nanami extends his hand toward you, palm open, fingers curling in a slow, inviting motion.

“come on,” he coaxes, his voice smooth, playful. “nestle up against me, kitty.”

your heart skips a beat, and this time, you’re almost certain you can hear the faintest sound of your tail swishing. oh, no, you tell yourself, you can’t do this.

but when you look up at him, your gaze locking with his, there’s something irresistible about the way he looks at you—tender, amused, but also… completely sincere.

the corners of your lips twitch, and despite yourself, your body begins to move. your legs slide off the couch, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re standing, a little wobbly on your feet as your tail flicks uncertainly behind you.

he watches you with soft amusement, waiting for you to make the first move. your movements are hesitant at first, your steps small and unsure, but you can’t help it. your body wants to curl up next to him.

there’s a moment of hesitation as you stand in front of him, unsure if you should really go through with it. but nanami’s hand remains outstretched, warm and waiting for you, the invitation undeniable.

he doesn’t rush you. instead, he softens his expression, the teasing still present but gentler now. “it’s okay,” he says, almost like he’s reading your mind. “i’m not going to bite.”

you swallow the knot in your throat, finally giving in, and step closer to him. as you do, you hear his breath hitch slightly, and his hand moves, fingers brushing the side of your face before gently cupping the back of your neck.

so soft, you think.

you can’t help the tiny sound that escapes from your throat, something between a hum and a purr as you instinctively lean in, resting your head on his shoulder. his arm wraps around your back, drawing you in closer, his body radiating warmth as he adjusts you to nestle more comfortably against him.

for a few moments, the world fades away. all that exists is the quiet hum of your shared space, the rhythm of nanami’s breath, and the steady, comforting pressure of his hand on your back.

you’re not sure how long you stay like that, but time seems irrelevant. you’re just content to be in his arms, feeling safe and close to him.

“see,” he murmurs quietly, his voice low and warm against your ear. “i knew you wanted to. you don’t have to hide it, you know.”

you suppress a soft, embarrassed mewl that threatens to slip out. you’re not hiding anything, you tell yourself, even though you know that’s a little lie.

his fingers card through your hair slowly, soothingly, and you can’t fight the way your body relaxes into his touch, the gentle scratches behind your ears making your eyes flutter closed.

“you’re a little too cute for your own good,” he says with a chuckle, his thumb brushing along your jawline, tender and affectionate. “but i don’t mind.”

you can feel the heat in your cheeks, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you settle deeper into his arms, the warmth of the moment washing over you.

and as nanami presses a soft kiss to your temple, whispering a quiet, “stay here with me,” you can’t help but think that, maybe, being his little kitten isn’t so bad after all.

—

a dangerous sound.

it happens when you least expect it.

you’re sitting on the couch, absorbed in your phone. nanami is nearby, doing some work, though the two of you are mostly enjoying the quiet of the evening.

without thinking much of it, he absentmindedly reaches out and scratches the back of your head, fingers gently brushing through your hair.

your breath hitches.

and then—

you meow.

it’s completely involuntary, a soft, breathy sound that escapes before you can stop it. it’s like a reflex, like your body just can’t help itself. you freeze, eyes wide as you realize what you’ve just done.

the silence that follows is deafening.

the only sound is the faint rustling of the pages in nanami’s book, his breath seemingly caught in his throat. slowly, you look up, cheeks already burning.

nanami’s eyes are wide, but it’s not surprise. there’s something else—something softer—in his gaze. his lips part slightly, his hand still lingering in your hair, but his expression is utterly unreadable.

you scramble to recover, but the words come out too quickly. “you didn’t hear anything.”

there’s a pause.

“i did,” he whispers back, his voice lower than usual.

your heart skips a beat.

he leans closer, and before you can even process it, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second longer than necessary. the warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“you’re adorable,” he murmurs, his voice thick with affection, and you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up even more.

you look down, avoiding his gaze. “i’m not, nanami.”

“oh, you are,” he says, this time reaching out to gently tilt your chin up so he can meet your eyes. there’s a glimmer of mischief in them now, but it’s softened by something much warmer, much more tender.

“really,” he continues, leaning in closer, his lips hovering just above your forehead again. “i think you’re irresistible.”

you’re about to protest, but before you can, his lips are on yours—slow, gentle, but filled with all the affection he’s been holding back.

you freeze for a moment, taken off guard by the kiss, but then it sinks in. his lips are warm, soft, and you melt into it without thinking.

it’s the most tender kiss, nothing forceful or rushed, just a quiet, intimate moment between the two of you. your hands reach up, tentatively touching his chest as you lean into him.

when he pulls away, he looks at you with a soft smile, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips.

“you’re definitely my favorite little cat,” he whispers, voice hushed and full of warmth.

you can’t look him in the eye. your face is burning, but at least now you can’t stop the soft, happy purring sound that bubbles up from deep inside you.

nanami’s expression softens even further at the sound, and with a slight chuckle, he leans down to plant another kiss on the top of your head, as if to claim you once more.

“i can’t resist you, you know.”

you murmur something inaudible, still unable to fully process the way your heart is racing in your chest.

but nanami doesn’t mind. he’s content to let you be flustered, to let you meow again if it means he gets to keep you all to himself.

—

the curse wears off… kind of.

it’s a few days later when the curse finally begins to wear off, the effects gradually fading as if the universe decided you’d had enough time to learn the ins and outs of being a “kitty.”

one evening, as you’re both sitting on the couch, you notice it. your tail is gone. there are no ears to twitch in response to every little sound. the soft meows that had slipped from your lips are silent.

for a moment, you feel… normal.

you reach up to touch your head, feeling the familiar sensation of your hair instead of the soft fur you’ve become used to.

“well,” you mutter to yourself, letting out a soft sigh, “guess that’s over.”

nanami glances over at you, raising an eyebrow. “feeling better?”

you nod, but as you do, there’s a small shift in your posture—an old habit that hasn’t quite left you. you curl into the couch just a little more, your body sinking into the cushions like you’re seeking comfort, much like you did during your curse.

and then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, your hand reaches up to scratch the back of your head, the same place he had done earlier.

nanami watches you, a soft chuckle escaping him as he leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “you’re not going to stop, are you?”

you freeze, mid-scratch. “what?”

his gaze softens, but there’s a playful gleam in his eyes. “i thought the curse wore off.”

“it did!” you defend yourself, but even as you say it, your hand lingers on your head, your fingers brushing through the hair as if it should be there.

before you can say anything else, your stomach growls.

you pause.

a few seconds go by.

and then you can’t help it—the sound that escapes from your mouth is more of a soft, needy meow than a normal sigh.

you freeze.

nanami stares at you for a long moment. and then, with the most unbearable amusement in his voice, he asks, “are you still going to act like a cat, even without the ears and tail?”

you glare at him. “i can’t help it,” you mumble, crossing your arms, suddenly self-conscious. “it’s a curse, remember?”

he leans closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. “oh, i remember.”

but what really breaks you is when he casually picks up a small toy from the coffee table—a little mouse, one he’d kept just in case—and dangles it in front of you, like he knows exactly what’s about to happen.

your body responds before your mind does, and before you can stop yourself, your fingers twitch and reach out to bat at it. your movements are quick and fluid, a perfect imitation of how you had acted before, even though your ears and tail are gone.

nanami grins like a cat who’s finally caught the mouse. “that’s cute,” he teases, his voice low and amused. “still acting like a kitty?”

you feel the flush rise in your cheeks. “it’s a habit, okay? i’m not doing it on purpose.”

but even as you say that, you feel your body sinking back into that comfortable, familiar position, curling up against the armrest of the couch. your legs tuck beneath you, and your body just settles, as if it’s never known anything else.

when you glance up, nanami is watching you with a softened expression, his smile now filled with affection. “you’re not fooling anyone,” he says, his voice teasing but fond. “you might have lost the tail and ears, but you’re still my little kitten.”

you bury your face in your knees to hide your embarrassment.

“you started it,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat in your voice. instead, you can’t help but feel a warmth spread through your chest—one that only seems to grow every time he looks at you, like you’re his favorite little secret.

nanami chuckles softly, shifting to sit next to you. he places a hand on your head, the same place he’d scratched when you were a cat, and gently runs his fingers through your hair.

“you might not have your cat ears anymore,” he says, his voice soft, “but i think you’re still the same adorable mess.”

your heart flutters at his words, and you curl into his side, not even bothering to fight it anymore.

maybe you weren’t a cat anymore. maybe the curse was gone.

but as nanami holds you, your body naturally leans into his touch, and that purring sound that you thought was lost slips from your lips once again.

and this time, nanami doesn’t seem surprised at all.

—

bonus: the ear and tail torture.

it starts innocently enough—nanami sitting next to you on the couch, his fingers idly tracing the back of your neck as you sit there, lost in your thoughts. you’ve been trying to keep your cat-like tendencies in check, but the curse seems to have left more lasting effects than you’d like to admit.

and then he does it.

he scratches behind your ear.

it’s slow at first, the touch just a gentle caress, but your body reacts almost instantly. your ear twitches. your tail swishes. you feel a warm, almost dizzying sensation spread through your body, and suddenly, the world is a little softer, a little more… mellow.

“nanami,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracks a little.

he tilts his head, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “what was that? i couldn’t hear you.”

you bite your lip, trying to ignore the way your body leans into his touch, your muscles tightening. “s-stop it,” you say, but it’s weak, barely above a whisper.

he chuckles and leans in closer. “stop what?” he asks innocently, but you can see the playful gleam in his eyes.

and before you can stop him, he scratches a little harder, right where your ear meets the top of your skull.

a quiet, involuntary sound escapes you—a soft, purring noise—and your eyes flutter shut. your tail flicks against the couch, and you can’t seem to stop yourself from leaning into his hand.

“there it is,” nanami murmurs, and you know he’s enjoying every moment of this. “you can’t resist it, can you?”

you clench your fists, embarrassed, but it only seems to make things worse. your body’s already reacting, your stomach flipping with warmth as his fingers continue their relentless assault on your ears.

“nanami,” you whimper again, this time less of a command and more of a plea. “stop…”

he leans in even closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head, but his hands don’t stop. they slide from your ear, down to your fluffy tail, and he gives it a light tug.

you freeze, your entire body stiffening. you don’t mean to, but your legs stretch out in response, and you feel your tail twitch at the touch.

“do you like that?” he asks softly, almost too casually. “you’re pretty much purring now.”

“no… i… i’m not…” you stutter, but the words lose all meaning as his fingers graze your tummy.

a soft gasp escapes your lips when his hand rests there, gently scratching at the sensitive skin. your body reacts before you can process it, your hips lifting slightly in a futile attempt to escape the sensation.

you try to pull away, but it’s like your body’s completely surrendered. your stomach tightens with each soft scratch, and before you know it, a full-blown purr slips from your mouth, your face burning with embarrassment.

“you are a kitty, aren’t you?” nanami murmurs, his voice thick with amusement. his hand never stops, sliding from your tummy to your ribs, your tail still twitching beneath his fingers. “can’t resist it at all, can you?”

you barely manage a weak protest, but it’s lost under another mewl of pleasure. your hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, the feeling of your soft fur and his teasing touch making your brain melt.

why does it feel so good? you wonder desperately, your resistance crumbling with each second. you can barely keep your eyes open now, your body completely pliable in his hands.

“okay, okay,” he says, finally pulling his hands away. “i think you’ve had enough for today.”

you whine in protest, but it’s weak, like you don’t actually want him to stop. you want more.

nanami looks at you with an expression that’s a mix of affection and mischief, and his voice is soft. “you’re too cute. i think i’m going to have a hard time letting this go.”

your face is burning now, but you can’t help the small, satisfied purr that slips from your throat as you curl up next to him. you’ve lost the battle completely, and for some reason, you don’t mind one bit.

Hey hey! Congrats on your milestone!! 🎉 So I hope I got it right for the event but I would like to request for the second movie Sakazuki and number 10 please? 🙈

Niggy! I'm sorry this took so long. Hope you're enjoying this little writing and doing well <3. 

— N.SFW WARNING !

𖡼 c.w | fingering, dirty talking, and a bit of ooc. no proofreading either, sorry guys.  𖡼 word account | 0.9K

the first thing Sakazuki felt when he woke up was the cold place you had left behind in your bed. his arm was resting on the sheet, and the Chief Admiral would have preferred it to rest on you. he frowned, concerned about where you were. but his face relaxed as the smell of breakfast titillated his nostrils and he remembered that it was your day in the kitchen. 

he got up, threw on a pair of pants and headed for the kitchen. the smell was stronger and more pleasant as he entered the room and he didn't hesitate to follow your curves with his gaze, in silence.  in spite of his usual bad mood, his perpetual tension, sakazuki could not help but appreciate the sweetness of this daily life and the tenderness you showed him, the one that allowed him not to sink a little more every day. 

he ended up approaching you and embracing you from behind while leaving a burning kiss on your neck. you were wearing one of his shirts, much too big for you of course, and he liked to feel you surrounded by something of his. you turned around, and smiled at him. a smile that only you had the secret to, one that could bring him to his knees if you wanted it to. and of course, he preferred not to make that fact obvious. 

he soon kissed you, and he could taste the sweetness of a fruit that your lips had soaked up. A kiss that was supposed to be a good morning kiss turned into a much hotter, much more intense kiss than you expected. the Chief Admiral grunted, and your head began to spin. each kiss you shared lit embers in your belly and you felt every part of your body ignite at his touch. 

his hand went under your thighs and lifted you onto the kitchen table. you felt the tip of a fork bite into your flesh. you winced slightly and your man removed what was on the table with a flick of his hand. "no, wait! you don't have to destroy what i-" he smothered your rebuke with an even more intense kiss, running his hands down the back of his now embarrassing shirt. 

his fingers soon found your bare breasts and a sneer formed on his lips. he wrapped his large hands around your breasts and caressed them tenderly, not hesitating to tickle your nipples. your moans were a pure blessing to his ears and he broke away from your lips only to find the softness of your neck. he kissed your skin, whispering raw words against your flesh, making your epidermis quiver. soon his hands left your breasts, and almost painfully slowly moved down your belly before finding the elastic of your panties. he passed a hand slowly over them, already noticing how wet you were for him. "you're ready for me by now, my love? have you no restraint?" he teased.  

you blushed furiously as you tried to close your thighs on his hand to limit the friction that sakazuki was already beginning to exert on your clothed pussy. you felt your entrance tighten, already impatient to feel him inside you. your companion then passed a hand under your lingerie and groaned as he heard your satisfied moan when one of his fingers came in contact with your clitoris. he gently titillated it, rolling it under his fingers, slowly tracing imaginary circles that made your legs tremble. 

sakazuki finally went down to your entrance and slipped a finger directly into your cunt, letting go of your moans and coming back to your mouth to kiss you. he began to move back and forth slowly, to give you a minimum of time to adjust. then, his movements became more urgent, deeper, and akainu added another finger. soon, your body was trembling under the onslaught of his fingering, causing the table to sway in harmony with sakazuki's movements. he bent his fingers, trying to reach that little spot he knew would be crucial to your orgasm while his thumb returned to your clitoris. 

soon, he found your g-spot, and he could feel under his lips, under his hand how your body was preparing for a tsunami of sensations. your body began to contract around him, and your lower abdomen felt like it was burning. you could feel how the pleasure invaded every part of your body, how it came in waves, making you clutch at the marine as if trying not to sink under the torrents of sensation that threatened to engulf you. dirty noises were rising in the kitchen, enhanced by your moans and sometimes the kisses you were exchanging that came to choke them. your vision blurred then, and you reached the paroxysm of your pleasure.

your body contracted even more violently, your hands clamped down on sakazuki's broad back and he didn't stop his movements, helping your orgasm to prolong. finally, he stopped when you ended up relaxing, and he gently caressed the length of your entrance. you had wet the table and your breakfast was a bit of a washout. but he had still served you a pleasant wake-up call.

TAGLIST: @angeltani + @gwedosuns + @my-one-piece-exeperience + @lolli-ace 

੭୧ chishiya with an introverted reader... . ۫

chishiya shuntaro x fem!reader (requested)

— warnings: fluff, maybe ooc chishiya, beach arc, fem pronouns, niragi doing niragi things, typical aib violence, swallowing razor blades lol...

— summary: chishiya is very enticed by the fact you seem to trust him so much, he can't help but tease you.

— word count: 1.6k

you were known around the beach, specifically for being on the quiet side, avoiding any compromising relationships, platonic or not, with people around you, knowing that would only be a flaw between others, especially in a place like the borderlands. people like this always managed to stand out more than intended between others.

it only half worked, though. when you first arrived in this sick world, it didn't take long for you to get invited to the beach, which you reluctantly accepted since there weren't that many options for you.

everyone there seemed untrustworthy and deceitful, especially the group of militants. so you decided to keep to your side, having a few acquaintances here and there but nothing too profound.

that was until a blonde guy named chishiya decided to do the job himself and approach you. you were never aware of the reason, but at this point, you didn't care. your only goal in a place like this was to never let your guard down next to others, but unfortunately, this man managed to make you. he could be using you all this time just to have someone to sacrifice when the needed time comes, and you would fall right onto it given how much trust you had put in him.

being friends with chishiya later on drove you to become friends with kuina as well, but still, you weren't as close to her as you were with the guy.

it turns out you were simply introverted, and having someone to confide in ended up helping you in a place like this, contrary to your beliefs. you'd continuously get teased by niragi for being so shy and reserved with yourself, but that didn't happen with chishiya. you could tell he was quite curious about your behavior as well; however, he didn't press it on you. 

this reflected on the time you two spent together. you ended up sticking next to him more than you realized. people around the beach would be surprised if they went on a walk and saw one of you both alone. kuina was also after him sometimes, but it didn't compare to you guys's proximity. this only made him seem more suspicious, given that he only kept two people close, and even so, he would appear slightly reluctant to anything you guys did together.

before you could realize it, you were practically blabbering your mouth out whenever you were both alone, contrasting the personalities you made up around other members. and surprisingly, chishiya didn't complain, instead just staying silent for most of the time you talked. you weren't sure if he was even listening most of the time, apart from some occasional comments he decided to add when wanting to share his opinion about whatever matter caught your eye that day.

as of now, chishiya was sitting on the chair by his desk as you lied down on his bed, looking at the ceiling. his hands were moving around on a device, and you had no idea what half of its purpose was. sometimes, you would try and peek to see whatever he was doing with it, but upon recognizing the usual pliers and wires he must love so much, given he "spends more time with them than with you" (as you dramatically proclaimed a few days ago), you just gave up.

he looked very focused right now, and you knew better than to disturb him at times like these, but your boredom somehow managed to get the lead as your mind looked around for a chat theme.

"did you know that the human stomach can dissolve razor blades?" you ask out of the blue, your gaze still fixated on the ceiling.

he did not answer. instead, he stopped his movements around the device in his hands and gave you a side look. you could feel his gaze, so you immediately tried to explain.

"i'm not planning on anything!" you said it with a hurried voice, coming out with a tone of humor. "it's just a scientific fact."

he sighed, his attention turning back to the box to which he added two metals. it was now much harder to guess what the hell he was trying to make out of it.

"no, i did not know that." chishiya replied, his eyes never leaving the gadget he held as he kept fixing it. his voice was heard again shortly after. "but it's quite obvious, actually. the ph level in a human stomach varies between 1 and 3, which means it is very acidic. you could get away with swallowing a lot of things."

you could tell by the way he spoke that he tried to use easier words to make you understand, and honestly, that only made your heart beat faster and your cheeks redden. 

"that doesn't mean you can do it." he stopped his movements for a second, talking with a stern voice, but quickly went back. he really looked more preoccupied with the piece of equipment.

you gasped as if you were offended by his remark, a chuckle leaving your lips right after as you rolled around on his bed. "i would never swallow anything suspicious. i'm not that insane."

"you considered pressing a button that had "don't press" written on top of it." he answered without thinking twice.

you laughed it off again, remembering how he had to physically pull you away from the tempting button you found together on a game you played. it consisted of finding the exit to a labyrinth as a killer chased the players. you knew where the exit was from the very beginning since, before entering the game, chishiya had the brilliant idea of going to a point high enough to study the whole arena. when you both finally finished the game, someone ended up pressing it, and the whole place blew up. at least you found out what it did.

"come on, i was curious!" you complained, still giggling, when the memories of chishiya being so done with you came back. "i would never swallow a razor blade, you know that."

"not even if it had "don't swallow" written on top of it?" he ironically asked, doing his best to make his voice come out nonchalant, but you could basically hear the smirk he held.

"chishiya!" you whined out louder, starting to laugh again.

after your fun died out, you got up from the bed and stopped beside him, a hand holding onto the back of his chair. "what miraculous electrical device are you making this time?"

at this point, chishiya didn't even question your choice of words, instead keeping his gaze on the item. "it's a taser," he replied sharply. "so i can bring some sense into the heads of idiots like you."

"i hate you." you admitted, rolling your eyes and turning around with a sigh, lying flat dead on his bed again. both of you knew you were not telling the truth, and he was about to tease you for it.

until he was brutally broken out of his line of thinking by an equally brutal niragi slamming the door open. you flinched at the sound, while chishiya just closed his eyes and sighed, frustrated.

"oi. executive meeting by eight o'clock. make sure not to skip it again, or the hatter might not like it." he exclaimed, referring to chishiya, not bothering about keeping his voice down or even lowering his gun to appear a bit more sociable. "oh. look who we have here..." now referring to you.

as niragi's eyes fell upon you, your eyebrows immediately furrowed as you looked away, sitting up on chishiya's bed, avoiding as much contact with him as you could. 

"why are you always after this guy? there are so many better men in a place like this, and you choose him?" niragi asked with that sharp voice of his, which you profoundly despised, as he approached and pointed his gun at you. you didn't bother looking at it.

your cheeks were pretty warm from this whole interaction. you weren't scared of him physically hurting you, since chishiya wouldn't allow it and niragi knew it, but confrontations were always awkward with him.

you didn't even realize that chishiya finally let go of the device in hand, turning around in the chair and watching the scene with not too much interest. "she isn't that fond of me. actually, she just claimed to hate me."

your mouth fell agape as you looked his way with a gaze that could kill. you noticed he had a smirk, and all you wanted to do in that moment was wipe it out of his face, but you knew best with niragi there. 

"oh, so she talks? now that's a surprise." niragi lowered his gun to his sides, chuckling at the end of his sentence. you could only lower your head in embarrassment and avoid any more conflicts.

"well, i'll be taking my leave. thanks for the attention, you both!" niragi yelled ironically, slamming the door shut behind him.

and as soon as he made his way out of the room, you turned your attention to chishiya, who had already mentally prepared himself to deal with your talking.

"i might not be the one dissolving a blade in my stomach, but i know who will." you said, trying your best to sound mad, which probably didn't work out because he didn't move a bit from his usual position.

"well, niragi might need to take care then." he said, turning around in his chair, back to his own world.

"i wasn't talking about him!" you rolled your eyes, fuming and concluding that it was useless to argue with him. 

in truth, your tantrum didn't last much longer than 5 minutes, since soon you were already chattering about whatever came into your mind next. even if it seemed like not, chishiya was always listening, often adding a comment or two, but at this point, it was routine for both. it was entertaining to him to see how different you could be depending on the people present in the room and how you became much more comfortable with him around. he took pride in that.

— a/n: waaah this was so fun to write!!! i love making chishiya an insufferable one so i hope this was okay and fitted your likings... i think i ran away a little bit from the topic but i wanted to make chishiya as in character as possible because imo that's what makes him so interesting. ohh i love a jackass of a man......

*:･ﾟ✧ Studio Ghibli Films + Colors ✧･ﾟ:*

don't go Nanamin don't go

shti dawg
©️ncthug | tumblr
follow @ncthug for more