#found this in my drafts from when I was having a normal moment

[javierduffy]

ohh javieran … javieran post kieran’s death .., javier is a poor lonesome cowboy in america a long way from home with no more sweetheart to sit and talk with him ooohhh can anyone hear me ….

[neodazed]

enhypen -🎀- squirting for them for the first time

ot7xfem!reader - when they make you squirt for the first time

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f), cum eating, overstimulation, pussy slapping, slight daddy kink, lmk if i missed smth

alr started writing this when I saw recent similar fics for enha but there’s like a hundred of these here so don’t think that’s an issue

my sunki fics flopped so bad i went back to writing imagines instead of my other drafts LMAO ty for more than 2k views on the last one and for 200+ followers. pls request after reading my post regarding that, i’d love to see and write ur thoughts!! have fun reading 💋 masterlist

HEESEUNG

For Heeseung it’s almost like squirting = marriage.

A new found level of possesiveness awakens in him, basically.

You’re laying flat on your back, legs spread as wide as they can go, and he is plunging three fingers inside you.

His pace is no other than harsh, not an inch of his being is trying to be gentle. To be honest, he doesn’t need to be anyway — that’s just how you like it.

Thank God you were wet, or else those ocassional spits on your clit wouldn’t be able to match the rough bones of his digits carving their well earned place in your fluttering hole. With each quick thrust, the low side of his palm bumps against your little nub, drawing a lovely whimper out of you.

He’s not leaning over your body, doesn’t press comforting kisses on your face or neck. He is sitting on his knees between your two trembling thighs, and watches your cunt gasping for his fingers hungrily.

It’s getting way too sloppy now, creating those nasty almost slurping-like sounds, and it almost makes him want to lean down and bury his mouth in there, but then again, the sight is so pretty for him.

So instead, he stares and he talks. And oh, his way of talking is dirty, all possesive. Speaking of your pussy as it was the most beautiful masterpiece hung up in his favorite museum.

Your hole clenches, tighter and more intensively than normally, and you feel a flood rushing down in your tummy, one that has you curling the tip of your toes backwards, gripping the sheets underneath you like you’re about to fell off a bridge.

You try to warn him in time, you swear. The weakest ‘Hee’ leaves your mouth, a mix of a somewhat scream and moan, and you grab his forearm, but as expected, it doesn’t make him stop, it just encourages him to increase every sensation he’s currently providing. So there’s nothing you can do when a gush of liquid spills out of you, high enough to latch onto his black fitted shirt.

His heart fucking flutters at that, pride swelling up in his chest.

‘You made that big mess for me?’

‘Only I can make you cum like that. I now that’s right.’

‘C’mon, squirt again for me. You know I’m not stopping ‘til you do.”

JAY

His head has been hitting your cervix repeatedly for some time now, his balls slapping against your ass with each stroke, shaft hitting your clit.

Absolutely no thoughts in your head, just dick dick and dick.

It’s almost like every vein was created just to brush your gummy walls with the perfect force he always settles on. He’s curved to fit right into you, and if he wasn’t, well, he carved out his place in there well enough by now.

Feeling full of him has to be the most precious feeling, talking about any of your holes. And his hands are rough, they grip and sink and have completely no restrain when it comes to your body.

It’s a release you don’t even really feel coming (maybe because he already emptied you so many times), it crashes onto you.

Your scream is one the neighbours will give dirty looks about later on, but truly, who cares in the moment? Not like he would have the strength to muffle it, or the attention, he is fixated on you.

On the way your sudden finish spurts all over his cock, his abs, his arms- he goes feral.

‘Oh my god, princess. What’d you do there?’ He laughs in amusement, his movements never stopping, just letting down from the pace.

‘You came all over Daddy’s cock? Without saying a word?’ He’s already back in full force, ignoring your whines and lightly pained whimpers, slamming into you even harder now.

‘I’m sure you can do it on command then, too. Come on, show me.’

JAKE

You already came three times.

Yet, no amount of tugging on his locks would make him lift his head up from between your shaking thighs.

See, Jake is a greedy man. Every time he gives head, he acts like a starved man who is on a strictly ‘pussy for all meals’ diet, and hasn’t eaten for weeks.

One orgasm is nothing to him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice it happened, he keeps going. Goes between munching at your folds and sucking on your clit.

Two orgasms make him hum quietly, like he’s just starting to get the taste of it.

Three? That’s a good number, but still, it’s not enough. If you managed to cum three times already, what’s stopping you from cumming one more?

That’s the logic.

And you would think the upcoming one would be just a tired suffer with minimal semen going into the mix of spit and cum, but it’s something else. He plunges his tongue deep into you, and begin to move it right there, and it almost feels like he’s flicking at your cervix.

You cry out, legs locking his head in space (not like he wasn’t glued there already). You swash right inside his open lips, on his tongue. He grips your thighs harder, and wait until you finish. When he lifts his head up, finally, it’s kinda…full of cum. Like, literally. His chin completely soaked, his nose wet, his eyelids covered too. It’s a sight for sure.

‘Baby…that was so fucking hot.’ He says in awe, blinking up at you. He’s so in love. You smile softly, though your face is going red more and more by the minute. You are still sprawled out, sticky and open, and now you feel a bit sheepish.

‘Can you clean me up, please?’ You mean with a towel. Obviously. That’s what normal people do.

But Jake’s smile turns slow. Dangerous. Still hungry.

He leans in.

You freeze.

‘Jake, wait-‘

But it’s too late. His tongue is already on your inner thigh, licking a slow stripe up to where you’re still dripping.

Then his mouth is on you again. Soft, wet kisses over the mess he made, drinking you down like it’s water after a drought.

You try to squirm away, gasping his name — but he just pins your hips down with a firm hand and grins up at you.

‘I’m just cleaning you up.” — Then, quieter — ‘Gotta take care of my girl, right?’

SUNGHOON

You were getting punished.

So how on earth was it so good?

The way he’s spanking your pussy should have made you cry a long time ago, but instead, it’s just keeps on getting…better? Sure, it hurts, how could it not? A very sensitive area, indeed, probably not made to be spanked, but…

It was the good kind of hurt. The one that kept chasing slick out of your hole after every swing on your clit. Your body is thrown between two different reactions, half squirming away, half desperately chasing the sensation.

No fingers inside, no thumb rubbing your bundle, no tongue stroking your folds — just rough, precise hits.

He is spreading you open with two fingers, but keeps them strictly there, no slipping in between. Only so that he can reach all of you, making sure it hurts enough. Enough that you realize what you have done wrong, refrain from ever doing it again. Enough so that you feel that this pussy belongs to him, and he can do whatever he wants to it.

To his surprise, it’s also enough to make you squirt.

To Fucking squirt.

One minute, he’s spanking your nasty little cunt, and you’re crying to stop, then the next, his pace has to falter, cause a flood of liquid splashes out of it.

He snorts. Not really in amusement.

‘You’re unbelievable, you know that?’ — He looks down at you with a scoff — ‘I’m trying to punish you here, and you enjoy yourself more than normally’

‘It’s just…sensitive’ You sniffle. The hurt now comes in stronger, when you are no longer getting stimulated.

Sunghoon tsk’s and pushes his dirtied digits past your tear-soaked lips. Your face crunches up from the taste, but you do your best to swallow all of it. And that fucker turns that around, too.

‘You really just slurped up all of it? Didn’t leave me anything?’

‘I-I thought-‘

‘I must take another taste, then…’

You cry out the moment his hot tongue makes contact with your red swollen clit.

SUNOO

He’s casually hovering over you, mouth on left nipple, finger rubbing your clit. The suckling and stroking movements are equally hard.

You guys’ve been at it for some time now, lazily making out, most of his energy being put into pleasuring you. You were already on the edge a couple of times but he stopped there and went back into it just to drag it out.

‘Shh, just a little more. You’re not that impatient, right?’

He earns himself an eye roll for that, but only snorts, and pushes you closer.

His bare chest presses against yours, kisses soft and deep, and it’d be romantic even, if you could forget that he’s been edging you for half an hour. He always says it’ll make your release bigger and better, but hasn’t really convinced you yet.

Until now.

Because when he finally settles on the good space, even after feeling your stomach tighten, it doesn’t take you any longer to squirt.

And, the ‘see? told you’ look on his face could not be more smug.

‘Wow. Look who was right?’

‘My new take is that I can make you squirt two times in a row. Wanna find out?’

JUNGWON

Jungwon, to put it simply, is flabbergasted when it happens.

Like, on his tongue?

Around his fingers?

Because of him?

What did he do in his past life to deserve this? Whatever it was he is one lucky mothefucker.

You couldn’t even prepare him or give him a chance to pull away (he would never), since you yourself didn’t expect it at all. The truth is, you’ve never squirted before. Orgasms with a little more force? Producing a little more cum than usual? Sure, those happened, nothing too crazy. But it certainly never splashed onto his face like a fucking cunami, Jungwon thinks.

Poor boy wants nothing but to bury himself there right away, but he's not sure if you'd want that, given that you're still shaking under him. Instead, he strokes your thighs (still around his head), and murmurs,

'That was...good, right?' He asks, voice suddenly shy like he forgot what was he doing in the first place.

'Baby...you just made me squirt into your mouth. It was more than good, trust me.' You say with a weak chuckle.

'I want to taste. Can I?' How could you even say no to that adorable pleading gaze?

'Go ahead, Wonnie. Taste how good you made me feel.'

RIKI

It was just a matter of time before your first squirt after you started having sex, you knew for sure.

Riki's ego didn't need a lift though, and since he never brought it up by himself, you just assumed he either didn't know you were capable of doing it. or he's just content with the usual five orgasms he brings you to every time you guys have sex.

He absolutely knew what he was doing to you every time, but this?

This he did not expect.

You were bouncing on his cock with your best of strength, and he was watching you with a smirk, layed back on his arms, annoying and hot as ever. He wasn't putting in too much effort, but when he did move his hips to meet your thrust, God it reached the most perfect spot without a single miss.

He made a few statements, and those were...

'Your tits are all up in my business. Just how they should be.'

'Fuck, Y/N, this pussy is squeezing me so hard. You were hungry for my cock, weren't you?'

'From this position, I'll come right onto your cervix, You're gonna be dripping so bad...'

With a rather loud cry, cum splashed out of your slick hole with a nasty sound. No thumb circling around your clit, no lips suckling on your nipples, just Riki's cock, raw and hard, all for you to fuck your little cunt on.

Of course he followed you immediatelly.

And of course, he had things to say.

'Oh. So we're squrting now?'

'Why wait a month? Were you shy to show how much you love this cock?' His finger is dipping down into your heat, bringing it to his mouth to taste.

'Riki, I'm sensi-'

'Shh. Let me see. You'll have to do it again now, anyway.'

[nayeoniiz]

WEBCAM PERV! (1)

pairings ❥ heeseung x fem!reader

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

warnings ❥ mutual masturbation, cyberstalking, noncon recording

synopsis ❥ you meet heeseung on omegle and quickly hit it off until you accidentally disconnect. feeling at a loss from not being able to find him again, you give up and live life as if it never happened. unbeknownst to you, however, he turns out to be a hacker who hacked into your camera, resorting to watching your secretly from behind the screen… until he didn’t.

genre ❥ smut

word count ❥ 4.4k

taglist: @rayofsunshineeee

Webcam Perv! (2)

author’s note: sorry it took me a bit longer to release, i ended up rewriting over the whole draft. i was gonna write the full story in one go, but if there’s one thing you should know about me, it��s that i love making series. anyway i hope yall enjoy! & a reminder that my requests are open (send as an ask or submission pls do not dm me lol). go check out my other stories while you’re at it bc i have much more cooking! not proofread so don’t come for me!

y/n lay blank faced on her bed with her phone in hand. it had been hours since she’d gotten home from her classes, and now she was just scrolling mindlessly on tiktok out of boredom. her room was quiet except for the occasional hum of her heater and the everchanging audios blasting from her phone’s speakers.

she sighed, tossing her phone to the side resorting to staring at the ceiling. as the days were growing colder, y/n couldn’t help but to feel this growing sense of loneliness creeping in, like there was something missing that she couldn’t quite put her finger onㅡexcitement was the closest word she think of. she didn’t have many friends to talk to, or text, or hang out with—just her best friend natty, but the girl was currently unreachable as she had already fallen asleep after their brief phone call.

midterms were always the dryest times for y/n. after spending hours in the library, forcing far too many categories of knowledge down her throat for her own goodㅡ just to end up with barely above average scores, she was too drained to do much of anything else when she got home. but, it was hard to just sleep. she was intransigent when it came to resting after studying because she wanted to give herself the free time she’d lost instead. usually being on her phone, and rotting her brain away with the useless curated content that she handpicked for herself would suffice. but on days like thisㅡ where her studying ended close to (or in this case, after) midnight, it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the dopamine she was longing for.

after a few moments of lying in a frozen state of staring off into nothing, she reached for her laptop, opening it on impulse. omegle. it had been a while since she’d used it, and honestly, it wasn’t the best idea, but she figured it might help pass the time. and maybe it’d even give her some form of human interaction, though her hopes weren’t too high given the website’s reputation. she typed “k-pop” into the category field, hoping it’d narrow down the pool to people around her age who might share at least one interest with her.

the first few chats weren’t anything special. she ran through the typical brief hellos, the awkward pauses, and of course the familiar “stranger has disconnected.” a few times, however, she was met with the sight of creepy old men who took pleasure in flashing, reacting at lightning speed to skip the chats before things could get worse. some people seemed normal at first, friendly even, but as soon as they’d start saying weird thingsㅡor worse, making noises that gave away their intentions, it’d soil her mood once again as she refreshed her tab.

after getting skipped again for the umpteenth time, y/n found herself hovering her mouse over the “new chat” button, debating. she looked at the clock in the corner of her screen, she had already wasted 30 minutes trying to find a normal human being to talk to. she was beginning to wonder if this was really a good idea to begin with. was it even worth possibly getting harassed for another half hour, in the name of being social? she weighed her options: she could either waste another 2 hours on tiktok, or go to bed. neither seemed appetizing for the hunger of connection she craved. with a sigh, she decided to try one more. and if it didn’t work out, it just meant that it was time to call it a night. she clicked to start a new chat.

stranger is typing…

stranger: hii

you: hello

stranger: m23

you: f22

stranger: cam?

you: earn it?

this one didn’t seem too bad so far, but she wasn’t going to make an early judgement. the man seemed to respect her decision as he quickly changed the conversation. they kept things light, alternating on asking each other random questions back and forth about hobbies, favorite foods, movies, shows, and music. the conversation was easy, fun even, and y/n found herself smiling a little despite the earlier frustration. it was like she was finally getting what she was looking for. with the conversation being tame, he took it as a green light to ask again.

stranger: can i see you now?

you: fine lol

y/n hesitated before turning her camera on and adjusted her hair quickly before looking at the screen. the male in her vision had a sharp, almost angelic face, with delicate features that seemed to be personally sculpted by the man above. his hair was dark and tousled, the slight messiness giving him a laid-back, calm vibe with his headset only adding character to his visual as they laid over his ears. his eyes were a captivating deep brown. they were soft and friendly, it made it hard to look away. even through the webcam, it was clear he had this undeniable charm, his steady gaze hinting that he knew the effect he had on others. the two of them stayed still, ogling each other for a bit, the stare down only being interrupted when he abruptly started typing again.

stranger is typing…

stranger: damn ur fine lol

you: thx so are you

stranger: you in korea?

you: yeah

stranger: me too

stranger is typing…

stranger: audio?

you: yk what? yeah

heeseung and y/n both go to turn on their audio. while her room was silent, disregarding the small noise coming from her room’s heater, heeseung had r&b music softly playing in the background. it only added to this boy next door vibe she was getting from him. the two of them were silent for a second before heeseung decided to break the ice by speaking first.

“hello? let me know if you can hear me.” his voice came through clearly, deep and smooth, carrying a natural warmth that drew her in without him even trying. a part of her was convinced he had to secretly be a weirdo. what was someone as attractive as him even doing on this site, yet alone at this hour? she took a breath before answering.

“hi, yeah i can hear you,” she replied, her tone a little uncertain, unsure of how to match his cool energy. she wasn’t exactly the extroverted type of person to begin with, you can only imagine how much harder it was to speak when such a captivating face was waiting for her response in real time.

heeseung only chuckled softly, the sound seamlessly exuding natural confidence. “so… i guess we finally get to talk now.”

y/n smiled at his words, her need for approval rising as she juggled through all the responses she could make to keep him engaged, “yeah, seems like it,” she responded, her voice was steady now as she tried to shake off the nervousness creeping in. 

heeseung chuckled, shifting closer to his keyboard as his fingers danced over the keys. the music in the background shifted, the beat changing just as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. his voice lowered a notch as he spoke, a hint of amusement in his tone. ”i’m, heeseung, by the way.”

“y/n,” she responded.

“i gotta admit,” he said, “i wasn’t sure if you’d actually turn on your mic.”

“why’s that?” she asked, an almost muted giggle escaping her lips as she twirled a strand of her hair, her fingers displaying how nervous she felt. heeseung watched her with a quiet intensity, noticing every little movement she made. the way her fingers fidgeted and how she avoided meeting his gaze through the screen.

“i don’t know,” he said, his tone lazy and nonchalant, but holding a teasing undertoneㅡ a subtle shift she didn’t quite catch onto. “guess i’m just lucky you did.” he didn’t say anything about her fidgeting, though. he didn’t need to. she seemed like the type to change her behavior once it was called out, and he was more captivated by it than he let on. there was something about her shyness, moreso the way she couldn’t quite hide it, that intrigued him. “so, what do you usually do when you’re not chatting with strangers on the internet?”

his question had caught y/n off guard for a brief moment, another nervous laugh slipping past her lips as she tugged on her shirt’s collar, adjusting it to make sure nothing was out of place though she didn’t actually need to. she didn’t know why, but something about talking to him felt different from the others. “uh, not much… if i’m not studying, i just watch tiktoks or call my friend if she’s not tired.” she replied hoping the answer sounded casual enough.

“hm, sounds like you’ve got some time to kill,” heeseung smirked, inching his chair closer to the screen. he opened a second tab, the soft clatter of his typing blending effortlessly with the mellow r&b drifting through the background.

“yeah, guess i do. life’s… kinda mundane, you know?” y/n replied sheepishly. her gaze followed his, noting the slight movement of his hands just out of view, but chucking it up to him searching for another song to play as the music shifted again. he didn’t back away from the screen this time, though. instead, he kept his eyes locked on hers, unwavering.

“i get it,” heeseung replied, his voice lowering slightly, but still keeping its laidback manner, like they were just two people having an ordinary conversation. “i’m the same, but i'm more of a youtube guy, i found out about this site through a video on there.” as he spoke, his finger subtly danced across the keyboard, the screen flickering with the quiet download of her IP address. his eyes stayed on the camera, his expression open and unreadable, like he was genuinely listening to her.

“that’s interesting, this app usually has a bad rep. like, there’s only creeps on here,” y/n said, though her words seemed to be misunderstood as heeseung furrowed his brows.

“are you trying to insinuate that i’m a creep?”

her eyes widened in shock, and she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. a stutter broke through her words. “what?! no! i’m just saying—i’ve run into a lot of them tonight before i landed on you. so i was just… i don’t know. forget i said anything.” she sulked, her face reddening with embarrassment at her failed attempt to relate. heeseung watched in awe, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile, at her mannerisms, finding every one of her reactions so cute. sensing her discomfort, he smoothly shifted the topic.

“i’m kidding, y/n.” he grinned, showcasing his pearly whites. “so… what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but never got around to?” he asked, his tone light, but there was an underlying intensity to his gaze. he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity; he was studying her, absorbing every word she said, as if her answers would tell him everything he needed to know.

y/n paused, thinking for a moment before she answered. “probably traveling more. i feel like i’m always stuck in the same routine.”

“yeah, routines can be… limiting. but they’re also comforting, right?” he paused, his eyes flickering to a different part of his screen for just a moment before he continued. “you know, sometimes it’s those little moments, when everything feels a little too safe, that you need to shake things up.” he spoke so casually, like he was giving advice, but it sounded a bit odd to y/n. she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his words, though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. regardless, she found herself wanting to stay, wanting to know more. and she was always too paranoid for her own good anyway. it was probably nothing.

“i guess.”

“oh. yeah, but is that the only reason you’re on here?” heeseung’s fingers were still moving on his keyboard, the quiet clicking of the keys going unnoticed now. he wasn’t just talking anymore—he was already pulling the strings, weaving a subtle web around her, all while his words remained smooth and harmless. y/n’s lips pursed in thought, the sudden change in the atmosphere making her feel more curious than she was letting on.

“what do you mean?” she asked, confusion creeping into her tone as she leaned forward, trying to get a better look at him. heeseung’s system, working silently in the background, had breached the security of her wifi by now, scanning through the connected devices, its main goal being to gain access to her phone.

“i mean… it’s almost 4am, saturday night. you’re a cute girl, seem kind of introverted, but you give off this vibe... like you’re looking for some fun.”

whatever dimwitted perception y/n formed of him had shattered. he was no different from any of the other men she’d encountered prior. “oh. i don’t really do… that,” she replied, a slight pout playing on her lips. she moved her mouse to hover over the skip button, but she didn’t click it. something was keeping her here. maybe it was the way he looked at her—too attractive, too confident. she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t move.

heeseung noticed her hesitation, his grin widening. “oh, neither do i,” he said in a humoring manner, brushing her reaction off as if his earlier comment didn’t mean anything. “i just had to test the waters. can you blame me though? it’s not every day you meet an attractive girl on here. you said it yourself, there’s usually only creeps on here, right?”

“yeah,” she laughed, the sound effortlessly drawn out as she got caught in the pull of his charm. any cautions she had before seemed to dissipate as she got lost in his eyes. she debated whether she should just give in—it wasn’t like they’d see each other again, right? but then, the stories about girls who made impulsive choices, and got extorted, crept into her mind. the fear of becoming just another statistic arose.

“what do you have in mind?” she asked, her words slipping out before she could think them through. her people-pleasing tendencies had kicked in, but the smile that spread across his face made her heart race. somehow, it felt good, like she was doing something right. and that made it feel worth it. rewarding, even.

“whatever you’re offering, baby,” heeseung replied smoothly, his voice dipping into an unfamiliar, alluring tone that made her body tingle. as he spoke, his hand moved subtly off-screen, clicking to start recording. the faintest smirk curled on his lips as he leaned closer to the camera, his eyes burning into hers with a suggestiveness that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t before. desired. wanted.

“i don’t know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. a nervous smile played on her lips as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. her eyes darting away from the camera before flicking back to his. “i’ve never done anything like this before.”

heeseung tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening as he studied her. there was something about her naivety, the way she danced on the edge of her own boundaries, that made his pulse quicken. he decided then and there that if he wasn’t already obsessed before, he definitely was now. utterly and completely.

“well, i’m honored to be the first,” his voice dripped with seduction, but his eyes glinted with something far more sinister.

her cheeks flushed as she hesitated again, her fingers picking at the fabric of her shirt before she finally blurted, “could you maybe…” she paused, laughing softly at how ridiculous she felt to ask. “show me something, too? just to keep it fair.” her words made heeseung pause for a moment before a low chuckle escaped him, growing into full, unrestrained laughter. he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amusement, his eyes never leaving her face.

she was truly a character—everything about her was so… adorable. her openness, her immediate trust in a complete stranger, and the impulsivity that seemed to pour out of her without a second thought. it was intoxicating. she was everything he’d been looking for, everything someone like him—a man with desires he dared not say aloud—would dream of finding. and yet, beneath his amusement, there was a darker realization. if she wasn’t careful and kept giving away pieces of herself so easily, someone would take advantage of her. someone crueler, more reckless, more dangerous than him. he couldn’t let that happen. not with anyone else at least. she was his now. and if she was going to be ruined, it would only be by him.

“would you like it better if i go first?” heeseung inquired, his voice smooth as the corners of his lips nearly curled into a restrained smirk. he watched her reaction closely, catching the way her quick, almost desperate nod betrayed her displayed excitement. it was endearing, almost painfully so. it drove him crazy. he pursed his lips, feigning contemplation, before his smile grew wider, softer. “thought so,” he murmured, his tone carrying just enough teasing warmth to make her feel both at ease. she was completely under his spell. 

he reached for his webcam, the movement slow as he decided to savor the moment. tilting it slightly, he aimed it downward, the lens capturing his relaxed posture, legs spread comfortably wide. the soft fabric of his sweatpants clung to him in just the right way, emphasizing his figure without him needing to do much at all. the unthought of confidence in his movements was enough to hold her gaze, her breath catching as the tension in the air thickened. his hands grazed over the fabric covering his length, a small hiss of relief leaving his lips as he did so. she had already gotten him painfully hard without even trying.

lifting his hips, he slides his sweats down. just enough for him to pull his cock out, an unintentional gasp falling from y/n’s lips at the sight of it. he couldn’t hide the rush of pride that surfaced at her reaction. it was a response he’d grown accustomed to from his long list of other victims on the site, but there was something about y/n that struck him differently. her wide-eyed gaze, the way her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words—it was enough to ignite a deeper need within him, a desire to draw her in further, to leave her completely captivated by him.

a quiet curse slipped past his lips as he stroked, his hand barely being able to wrap around its girth. his movements were meticulous, unhurried as he moved to spread his precum over the rest of his length. he leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving her face. his dark eyes carried a silent command, the faintest nod of his head urging her to follow his lead. he didn’t have to say a word—his confidence, his control, it was all laid bare in the way he watched her, waiting to see how far she would go.

it was then that y/n realized she couldn't back out now. not that she wanted toㅡ her curiosity, mingled with the pull he had over her, kept her rooted in place. but it was starting to feel too real, the weight of the moment sinking in as she hesitated, unsure of what he was expecting. the fact that he left it up to her made it even more difficult. her mind raced as she nervously tugged at the bottom of her shirt, praying her choice would be enough to satisfy him.

heeseung's gaze didn't waver, his expression unreadable but intent, as though he were savoring every second of her hesitation. when she finally moved, lifting her shirt to display her breasts. her cheeks burned as she moved her hands over one, massaging and pinching her nipples. his lips twitched into the faintest smile. to her, his reaction was subtle, leaving her questioning if she'd done enough. 

but to heeseung, it was everything. to him, everything about her was intoxicating, from the nervous way she moved, to the unsure glances she gave him. he would have been satisfied just seeing her collarbone. his heart raced at the thought of how easily she gave in, how willingly vulnerable she was in front of him. it inflated his ego even more, knowing he was the first to witness this side of her.

he forced himself to keep his expression composed, though his excitement was nearly impossible to contain. the speed of his fingers absentmindedly sped up, thinking of how he’d be able to relive it again later tonight. and he’d make sure to replay every moment, over and over, obsessing over the way she unwittingly gave herself to him.“ah~ fuck, y/n,” he whimpered, unable to contain the heat growing over him. his eyes snapped shut, immediately imagining his hand to be hers. his hips bucked, as he began thrusting into his fist chasing the feeling of a body he knew now that he just had to get his hands on. tonight wasn’t going to be enough, he needed more. 

y/n didn’t know where her confidence was coming from when her free hand snaked its way down to the hem of her shorts as she pushed past them straight into her panties. she scooted into a slouch allowing herself easier access as she began rubbing on her clit, the pressure soothing its throbbing ache and sending a sweet, shocking sensation throughout her body. she couldn’t bite back the moan that slipped outㅡ the noise sounding like music to heeseung’s ears. oh how jealous he was of her hands now. being able to touch her because he couldn’t. it wasn’t enough, nowhere near it.

”look at me,” he murmured, his voice rough, making her cheeks flush as she slowly opened her eyes to meet his. his gaze was full of desire, making her feel small in a way that was strangely exhilarating. she found herself wanting nothing more than to impress him. she bit her lip as she quickly moved to lower the camera, aiming it to display more of her chest and downward before returning to her prior position on the chair. it didn’t even matter to him that her shorts kept her beautiful cunt a mystery to himㅡ the whole picture was so fucking sexy. the way she was playing with her nipples, pinching and rolling them, the speed of her circular motions increasing as she chased her orgasm, the way her tongue rested on her bottom lip before she bit it, the way sheㅡ

“heeseung~ oh my god.”

fuck. if he was wasn’t already stroking fast enough, he was moving at godspeed now. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back. he rubbed his thumb along his tip’s slit as he kept his pace, the action leaving his hips stuttering. he was so close, and y/n was too. she couldn’t control the volume of her moans, gripping her breast like her life depended on it. “i’m gonna cum, oh my god, oh my god,” the desperation in her voice made him come undone as he bit back a loud, throaty moan. but she kept going, still chasing her climax as her moans got choked out the harder she went on herself.

just as she was about to cum, when she was almost there, her computer suddenly shut down. the screen went black without warning, leaving only an empty, lifeless void. heeseung watched as her screen flickered and then turned dark, his heart sinking in frustration. “fuck!” he swore, shooting forward in his chair, eyes fixed on the blank screen. he slammed a fist on the desk in irritation before quickly ending the recording. his hands moved frantically over the keyboard, reopening his hacking program, desperately trying to figure out what went wrong.

y/n didn’t even notice, her orgasm crashed over her as she felt like every nerve, and cell in her body had come undone. she kept her eyes closed as she let out a breathless sigh, regaining her composure. after a few seconds, y/n opened her eyes to see that her laptop was blank. she frantically clicked on buttons trying to turn it on, clicking the power button which only displayed a red drained battery as if to mock her further. of all times it could have decided to die, why now? the frustration and panic settled in as she realized she may never get to see him again. she didn’t have any ways to contact him, but would he even want to hear from her again? doubt clouded her mind. now there was no way of knowing. she wanted to keep talking to him, but the odds seemed slim. with a heavy sigh, she jumped up, scrambling to plug her laptop into the charger.

meanwhile, heeseung was still navigating through her information. he had closed out of omegle and now his focus was entirely on troubleshooting. he noticed her computer no longer showed up on the network, the last activity was two minutes ago. “that piece of shit must’ve died,” he grumbled under his breath. he figured now would be the time to access her phone’s camera as it would be useless trying to find her again on the website. switching servers on the program, he downloaded the data to his phone and went to lay down. he watched through the front camera on her phone, but it remained in the same spot unmoving. he was getting frustrated.

y/n had wasted almost 45 minutes skipping through hundreds of people in search of his face on omegle. but to no avail, his face never came up again. it was 6am, and she had plans with natty to go through with in the evening. as much as she didn’t want to right now, she had to sleep. oth of them, in their own way, ended up resigned to their separate fates. y/n reluctantly accepted her defeat, bitterly acknowledging that the night had slipped away. but at least for heeseung, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing he would have another chance to see her again. this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths. he’d make sure of that.

Webcam Perv! (2)

[gf2bellamy]

hi, first of all, I love your stories and am a fan of your work 💓 I have a request, in a case with the team, spencer meets a girl who understands his intelligence and talks about the same topics like: science and the reader feels jealous and insecure that she is not smart enough for him despite working at BAU.

insecure — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) contente warnings: established relationship, reader feels insecure / not smart enough and jealous , some tears, but otherwise it's just emotional fluff <3 a/n: hii !!! hope you like this :) also another john steinbeck mention sorry ( found this in my drafts whoops )

The words washed over you like static, scientific facts, literary references, inside jokes that might as well have been a foreign language.

You stood beside Spencer, arms crossed, staring blankly at the crime scene photos pinned to the board. The images should have held your focus, but they blurred at the edges, your mind too occupied with the conversation happening just inches away. Spencer and a woman from the field office, were exchanging rapid-fire dialogue about something you couldn’t follow. A quip about quantum physics, maybe, or a pun so niche it sailed right over your head. Whatever it was, it made her laugh and Spencer chuckled in response.

You knew Spencer loved you. He told you constantly, in cozy moments before bed, in rushed kisses on your temple between cases, in the way his fingers lingered whenever he handed you a coffee.

But right now, you felt like an outsider in your own relationship. 

You swallowed hard, forcing your attention back to the case files. Then, a gentle touch at the small of your back. Spencer’s hand was warm, his thumb brushing lightly over your spine before he pulled away to circle something on the map. “You okay?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. 

You nodded, offering him a quick smile. “Yeah.” But the word felt hollow. You turned away before he could read the lie in your eyes, pretending to sift through the files at the end of the table. It was easier to focus on the paperwork than the ache settling in your ribs. 

You managed to keep up the act until it was time to leave. Just as you reached the door, the woman called out to Spencer again, something about an obscure novel you’d never heard of. He responded without hesitation, and you bit your lip, staring at the floor as you waited. A beat passed. Then another. Finally, Spencer’s footsteps followed, and before you could take another step, his fingers slid between yours, squeezing gently. 

“Hey,” he said softly, tugging you to a stop just outside the conference room. His brows knit together as he searched your face. “You’ve been quiet.” 

You shrugged, forcing another smile. “Just tired.” 

Spencer wasn’t fooled. He never was. But he let you be. 

He knew you, knew the way your fingers tapped restlessly against your thigh when you were upset, the way your gaze fixed on nothing when you were lost in thought. Right now, you were doing both, and though every instinct in him screamed to press, to fix, he held back. If you needed space, he’d give it to you. 

On the jet, he sat beside you, close enough that his knee brushed yours. Normally, you’d lean into him, your head finding its place against his shoulder, your fingers lacing through his without a second thought. But today, you kept your distance, arms folded tight across your chest as you stared out the window. Spencer set a coffee in front of you, just how you liked it. You didn’t grin at him like usual. Instead, you offered a faint, wary smile that didn’t reach your eyes before turning away again. 

His stomach twisted. 

Across the aisle, Emily glanced up from her file, her eyes flickering between the two of you. Spencer met her gaze. Then, Emily raised an eyebrow, tilting her head subtly toward the kitchenette. Spencer hesitated. His hand was still on your thigh, his thumb tracing absent circles over the fabric of your pants. He gave you one last gentle squeeze before standing, half-hoping you’d reach for him, pull him back. You didn’t even look up. 

Emily was already pouring coffee when he reached her, her expression unreadable. “What’s up?” Spencer asked, leaning against the counter. 

She didn’t answer right away, stirring sugar into her cup slowly. Then, without looking at him: “You chatted a lot with that woman.” 

Spencer blinked. “What woman?” 

Emily shot him a look. “The one you talked about all that nerdy science stuff with? At the precinct?” 

It took him a second, then it clicked. The local liaison, the one who’d laughed at his terrible pun. He hadn’t even registered the interaction beyond professional courtesy. But you had. 

His stomach dropped. “Oh,” he said, voice quiet. 

Emily studied him over the rim of her mug. “You really didn’t notice, did you?” 

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I was just—it was case-related. Mostly.” 

“Mostly,” Emily repeated, dry. 

“I wasn’t—” He cut himself off, frustration bubbling up. Not at her, not at you, but at himself. How had he missed it? How had he not seen the way you’d withdrawn, the way your smile had faltered? 

Emily sighed, setting her coffee down. “Reid, look. You’re brilliant, but sometimes you’re oblivious.” 

He swallowed hard, glancing back at you. You were still staring out the window. His chest ached. Without another word, he pushed off the counter and crossed the cabin, sinking back into the seat beside you. This time, he didn’t hesitate, he reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours and squeezing tight. You turned to him, looking at him for a long moment, his warm hand still enveloping yours. Part of you wanted to pull away, to protect that bruised, vulnerable part of your heart that still stung from earlier. But you didn't.

Then you caught Emily's gaze from across the jet. She looked away quickly, but not before you saw the knowing glint in her eyes, the subtle satisfaction in the way she sipped her coffee.

Of course.

You turned back to the window, but you kept your fingers laced with his. The rest of the flight passed in quiet. Spencer didn't push. His shoulder was solid under your cheek when you finally gave in and leaned against him, his fingers never once loosening their grip on yours.

An hour later you reached his apartment. You kicked off your shoes by the door as you suppressed a yawn.

"Are you okay?" Spencer's voice was soft behind you.

You turned to face him, forcing a smile. "Yeah." 

He didn't look convinced. His brows knit together as he stepped closer, hands hovering like he wasn't sure if he should reach for you. "You've been quiet since—" 

"I'm fine, Spencer." The words came out sharper than you intended, and you watched as his face fell, just slightly. Guilt twisted in your gut. "Just tired." 

Spencer exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything." 

Of course you knew. But this insecurity, this childish fear that you weren't enough, not smart enough, it stuck in your throat, stubborn and suffocating. "Yeah, I know." Your smile felt thin as you turned to hang up your jacket, fingers fumbling slightly with the hanger.

When you turned around, he was right there , closer than you expected. His long fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but wasn't sure he should. "Do you?" he asked softly, the words tentative, his head tilted in that way that meant he was analyzing every microexpression. 

You bit your lip, the sting of tears threatening behind your eyes. Forcing yourself to meet his gaze, you raised your hands to his face, thumbs smoothing over the deep furrow between his brows.

"Yes," you murmured, "just not feeling too great today." 

Your hand drifted down to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the sharp plane of his cheekbone. You hoped he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in your fingers, but of course he did ,Spencer noticed everything. His eyes darkened with concern, and he caught your wrist gently, turning his face into your palm to press a kiss there. 

"You've been quiet since the precinct," he observed, his voice carefully neutral. Too carefully. You recognized his profiling tone. 

"I'm just tired," you lied again, pulling away to busy yourself with straightening the blanket on the couch.Spencer followed, his socked feet silent on the hardwood.

"You know," he said slowly, "when I was eleven, I memorized The Grapes of Wrath because I thought it would make my mom happy." He paused, waiting until you turned to face him. "It didn't. Because what she really needed wasn't facts or figures. She just needed me to sit with her." His hands found yours, long fingers threading between yours. "I don't need you to understand every reference or equation," he murmured, bringing your joined hands to his chest where you could feel his heartbeat. "I just need you here. With me." 

The dam broke. A tear slipped free, then another. Spencer made a soft, wounded sound and gathered you close, his chin resting atop your head as you buried your face in his sweater. 

"I felt so stupid," you admitted, the confession muffled against his chest where his heartbeat thrummed beneath your ear. The wool of his sweater scratched lightly at your cheek as you turned your face deeper into him, hiding from the vulnerability of your own words. "Watching you two talk like that. Listening to you talk about things I didn't understand." 

Spencer's hands, those elegant, restless hands that could calculate bullet trajectories in seconds, slid up to cradle the back of your head with the most gentle touch possible. His fingers tangled gently in your hair as he pulled back just enough to see your face, his thumbs brushing away the dampness on your cheeks you hadn't even realized was there. 

"I love you because you're you," he said, voice tender. His palm came to rest over your heart, warm even through the fabric of your shirt. "Because you see people, really see them, in a way I never could. You notice the way Garcia's smile doesn't reach her eyes on bad days before she even says a word. You're the one who always remembers to bring Morgan that terrible gas station coffee he likes after overnight surveillance." 

His fingers traced the line of your jaw with reverence, calloused fingertips catching slightly on your skin. "You know exactly what books I want to read when I'm too overwhelmed to think straight," he continued. "And when I'm lost in my own head..." His hands cradling your face. "You're the only one who knows how to bring me back." 

He smiled softly at you. "You're my home," he murmured, the words so simple yet so devastating in their truth. "All the equations in the world couldn't change that." 

A tear escaped despite your best efforts, tracing a hot path down your cheek. Spencer caught it with his thumb, his touch achingly gentle as he brushed it away. "You're too sweet, Spence," you finally managed, the words coming out watery and broken between a sob and a laugh. Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his sweater.

Spencer huffed a quiet laugh, his nose brushing against yours. "Only for you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "Always only for you." 

[lnfours]

peace | l.n

summary: being in love with an audience is exhausting and worrisome, especially when you feel like they deserve better.

warnings: mentions of relationship anxiety and online hate, fluff (!!!!), and obviously inspired by 'peace' by taylor swift.

message from jordan: hi hi hi!!! so sorry for being inactive, but i wrote this in a rush when creativity was striking me and ik it's pretty short, but i wanted to get something out for you guys 😞 trust me, there's more stuff sitting in the drafts. but in the meantime, i hope you like this one! sending you all my love! <3

masterlist | listen

"hey, handsome,"

your voice carried through the room shortly after the sound of the door to your shared apartment closing. he tilted his head back, neck resting on the back of the couch as he watched you hang your coat and keys on the hook at the door. the same hook you always used to hang your things before kicking your shoes off.

he smiled softly, locking the phone in his hand as he fixed his attention to you, trying to drown out what he had read on his screen moments prior. he wished he had never read it, wished he had just put the phone down and forgotten all about it, because now it was all he was going to think about. it had taken over his mind.

you approached the couch, his hand reaching out to your hip to guide you into his lap. the same routine you two had fallen into during winter break. the routine was the same every day after you'd both come home. you'd talk about your days, cook dinner, put on a movie and then climb into bed once it was late enough.

a routine that filled your souls with love and comfort. a sense of normalcy in his otherwise chaotic life. not that he was necessarily unhappy

"how was your day?"

you hummed, reaching out to fix the stray curls on his head. it was clear that he had worn a beanie during his travels today, "it was boring in all honesty. susan wouldn't shut up at all today."

he chuckled softly, "she still can't take a hint?"

"guess not," you sighed dramatically, causing him to laugh again, "how about you? how was training?"

"it was okay," he shrugged. you squinted your eyes slightly, searching his water colored ones for the subtle signs. you knew him like the back of your hand, so the slight change from his normal behavior was enough to raise flags in your head.

you cocked your head to the side, "what's up? you okay?"

he nodded, but you knew better than that, "just tired, training kicked my ass today."

he knew nothing got passed you, he didn't even know why he bothered trying to hide the fact that he was upset. he could tell by the silent look on your face that you hadn't bought his deception.

he let out a soft sigh before asking the question that plagued his mind since he read the words on his screen, "are you happy?"

your eyebrows furrowed, "of course i'm happy, lan. what makes you think differently?"

his eyes found sudden interest in any area that wasn't looking you in the eyes. you gently reached out, raising his chin to make his eyes look into yours. it broke your heart to know he had doubts, not only about himself, but that you were unhappy with him.

"'s just stupid," he shook his head, "'m sorry,"

you shook your head, "nothing's stupid if it upsets you this much, there's nothing to be sorry for. talk to me,"

he took a deep breath, "just read what people have been saying, 's all," his words trailed off as you brushed the curls back from his forehead, "i don't normally read what people say, but they brought up the fact that you basically abandoned your old life to be with me and... i don't know, it makes me feel guilty."

"lando, listen to me," you said his name softly, making it known you were serious as he looked back up at you, "sure, i 'abandoned' my old life because i fell in love with you. yes, i packed up everything i had to move here, yes i had to get a new job, but you know what? i'd do it all over again. for you, i'd do it over and over and over again."

"but i just feel like i'm not giving you what you deserve," he said softly, "like i'm never going to be able to give you peace."

"i do deserve you," you smiled softly, "every bit and ounce of the chaos, it's all worth it because of you. i just wish you could see yourself the way i do."

he leaned into your touch, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your palm, "i know, 'm trying,"

"it's okay, we'll get there eventually," you softly smiled, "we're in this together, yeah?"

he nodded, pulling you closer, as if it was even possible, "i love you."

you smiled, leaning towards his lips, "i love you most."

[shun-ie]

₍⁠₍⁠ ⁠◝ shh . . . (kageyama tobio)

content : college!au, sex while having a phone call, belly bulge, bttm!reader, amab!reader, kageyama tobio, kageyama x reader, mentions of karasuno members, loosely follows the original plot, established relationship, lmk if i missed anything :)

shun-note : very late post. been busy with college. hope you like this one. i thought of the plot during class and it sat in the drafts for a day or more? this one's pretty rushed. i'm taking requests btw. :))

[not proofread]

during high school, it was a complete shock to the whole team when they found out about kageyama tobio's boyfriend. the setter who loved volleyball more than anything, unless it was milk. for the first two weeks they were in denial.

"that's just impossible," tanaka muttered, side-eyeing the clueless setter who was fiddling with the ball near the net, waiting for the rest of the team. nishinoya nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. he rubbed his chin and hummed.

he then snapped his fingers, "you think he's lying because he wants to seem cool like us?" he then crosses his arms, proud that he solved their so called 'mystery'. "our kouhai doesn't need to go such lengths."

kageyama gave them a once over and rolled his eyes. he really did have a boyfriend, he just wasn't ready to introduce him to his team, seeing as the latter also had other priorities. he sees yamaguchi and tsukishima step into the gym and he shook his thoughts away. he just needed to get through this practice so he could walk his boyfriend home.

"you know, my team didn't believe i had a boyfriend for almost a month back when we were in highschool," tobio muses as the memory passes through his mind. he glances up at his boyfriend, who sat prettily on the other side of the table.

y/n, who was scrolling through his shun-gram, paused. he then raised his head, "really? that's weird, i swear i've seen them pass us many times. they even saw us holding hands."

tobio laugh and shrugs his shoulders, "i know. i wonder when i'll get to meet them again." he sighs out, leaning the backrest of the booth. they were currently in a small cafe that they claimed as their hang-out spot. it was tucked away in a corner near the college campus. it was perfect. it was peaceful.

"soon babe," y/n smiles lightly, watching his boyfriend relax and absorb the warm atmosphere, getting lost in the soothing tunes that floated around the place.

tobio hugged y/n closer, snuggling into him. they were both cramped on the couch of their dorm room. the latter was asleep, tired from student body duties which included planning, purchasing, making an inventory, and setting things up for their up coming grand event. the milk loving setter noticed the signs of burnout and persuaded y/n to take a nap. but seeing his condition, he would wake the next day.

tobio sighed, his tense muscles relaxing after a day of training for their championships. they were both tired and needed this. he pulled the blanket higher before kissing y/n's hair. he then closed his eyes, body fully molded into his boyfriend's.

there were a lot of sweet moments between them. their relationship felt perfect. there were occasional disagreements, fights, and silent treatments, but this was it. a relationship they invested their time in since highschool and cultivated into a garden full of memories. this was it for them.

so when tobio finally returned, a scowl on his usually relaxed face, y/n knew something would either go right or wrong. a normal person would avoid the setter, but the (h/c)-haired male simply approached him and asked about his day.

that question led to y/n crying out as he jerked up. his dick jumps as tobio pounded into him relentlessly. the former clawed at the sheets as he came the second time, a moan flying out his swollen lips. his spine lifts off the bed as his boyfriend hugs him close.

"one more, just one more baby . . ." tobio rasps out. after a week of volleyball training and slipping on sweat on the court thrice and almost spraining his ankle, he was both pissed and stressed. why weren't they cleaning the floors properly? and why were they training them so hard when some of his teammates got the flu? it made no sense to him. sure, he was hardworking, but working his sick friends to the bone? he's sure that they'd be bedridden next week.

y/n whimpered, but locked his legs around the blue-haired man's hips, keeping his hard cock inside. "one more," he whispers out. almost immediately tobio rocks his hips and picks up the pace steadily.

he pants and grunts right beside y/n's ear as he holds him close, feeling their bodies rub against each other. he feels his boyfriend tremble from the overstimulation. he hisses as nails dig into his back. and as he sinks back into the headspace of pleasure, a shrill ring bursts their intimate bubble.

"what the fuck," he curses out, not ceasing any movement. he reaches for the phone and sits up. he checks the caller and sighs. he then looks down at his boyfriend, who was trying to look back at him through half-lidded tear filled eyes, hiccupping, panting, and moaning from being filled so good.

he presses on the green button, answering it, "hello?" he trails his free hand up y/n's stomach—feeling the bulge pressing against his palm as he slow-fucked into the heat—to his chest—tweaking a nipple—up his marked neck, before resting on the chin. he pushes two fingers into his mouth and feels y/n's tongue swirl around them. he bites his lip and holds off a groan from the sight.

y/n heaves as he sees tobio animatedly respond as if he isn't fucking so amazingly into him. his back arches as his boyfriend's cock hits his prostate head on, letting out a muffled cry. his hand slips down and grabs hold of his own neglected cock and starts stroking to double his already overstimulated pleasure.

"yeah," tobio's breath hitches hips rutting faster, feeling the coil of satisfaction, "i'll see . . ." he gulped, placing his body over y/n's once more and placing the phone right beside his head, "what i can do." his voice comes out strained as he mutes the call, taking his fingers out of y/n's mouth. "fuck. fuck. fuck." he mutters lowly, hand moving up to grab the headboard.

y/n gasps, pulling tobio closer, closing his eyes as he felt another wave of ecstasy wash over him. "t-tobi . . ." he lets out a loud moan and comes undone. his body convulses and he sees white before slumping.

with one more push, strings of cum shoots out of tobio's cock, loading into the already cum filled cavern he hasn't left for an hour. he lets out a shaky sigh and pulls out, laying beside y/n in exhaustion and relief.

"are you still there?"

tobio curses again, turning his head to y/n only to see him passed out with a face of pure bliss. he chuckles and leans in, giving him a sweet peck on the cheek. he then takes the phone and unmutes it, "yeah, sorry. i was occupied with something." he gets up and heads to the bathroom, in search of a cloth.

"hold on, let me just make sure y/n's comfortable."

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

You Have A Panic Attack | One Piece HC

Another one from the drafts. This one is a few mini blurbs. If you're someone who has panic attacks (like I do *cough cough*) then here's how they'd react.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law

CW: Panic attack, panic attack symptoms mention, GN!reader, no specific relationship mentions, could be early relationship/pre-relationship, use of (Y/N)

Check out my masterlist if you like stuff like this! I'm trying to clear out my drafts and get some stuff out for Valentine's Day.

LUFFY

The first time you had a panic attack in front of Luffy, he’s admittedly a little confused. You were hanging out on the deck of the Sunny, as per usual, goofing around and enjoying the warm sun with Luffy, Usopp and Chopper. Laughter and peace filled the air, a nice reprieve from the usual busy schedules you Straw Hats kept. It was like a switch went off, though. Seeing the change in your face, the way you politely tried to walk away and excuse yourself to go through it in private, it all set off alerts in his mind. 

“Hey, where ya goin’?” Luffy asked, following you inside the ship like a confused puppy. He couldn’t hide his disappointment that his best friend had walked away.

The moment your panic attack really set in, he grew concerned. The flushed cheeks, the heavy breathing, the look of pure dread and fear in your eyes. He had never seen you look that way without provocation, and certainly not when you were having a pretty good day up until this point.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, it’s just a p-panic attack. That’s all. I get ‘em all the time.” You tried to reassure him, though it was also an attempt to reassure yourself. Your heart was racing in your chest, pounding in that familiar way that typically made you feel so weak.

“Panic attack?” Luffy asks, tilting his head. “What’s that?”

“It’s-...Luffy, I, uh…can’t really explain it right…now…” You responded, your voice growing just a little breathier. You leaned against a wall on the inside of the hallway, your hand resting over your chest in an attempt to calm yourself. 

Luffy stood there in minor shock, unsure of what to do for a good few moments. His brain was processing, taking in what facts he knew. You were upset, sure, and normally he’d just tease someone for something like this. The look in your eyes looked so vulnerable, though - this wasn’t you acting out of anything other than pure...well, panic.

It suddenly hit - a lightbulb going off in his head. He didn’t exactly know what a panic attack was, no, but he understood vaguely the feeling you were having. Flashes of his time after Ace flooded his mind, making his own heart ache in sympathy.

“C’mere.”

Before you even know what’s happening, Luffy’s wrapped his arms around you into a hug. It’s one of his signature ones - not too tight, not too loose. It’s perfect and warm; just like Luffy. At first, you weren’t sure what to do or say, but slowly you found your arms wrapped around him in return. 

“Don’t know why you’re freaking out, but I get it. I hope you feel better.” He murmured into your ear, and his chin moved down to rest on your shoulder. 

Enveloped in Luffy, you felt your rapidly beating heart gradually, slowly, starting to steady into a slow, easy rhythm. The drummer in your chest seemed to finally have enough. Your arms tightened around his form after a moment, and Luffy returned the gesture easily.

“Thank you.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

ZORO

Training had become a ritual for you every morning. To your surprise, Zoro would somehow manage to claw his way out of bed early enough to join you almost every day. There’d rarely be exceptions, so you’d both fallen into this routine high up in the crow’s nest - Zoro would work on his form and swordsmanship, and you would work on basic conditioning. It was an easy way to get the blood pumping, and neither of you minded the company. 

Sometimes, though, there was a tendency for you to overdo it. When life got particularly stressful, waves of desperate anxiety and despair had a habit of ripping through you. Even with the attempts of exercise to serve as a preventative measure, it wouldn’t always help. It was on one particular morning, with the beams of the sun shining over the floorboards, that you finally fell victim to one in the presence of the swordsman.

At first, Zoro just figured you were exhausted. With a small huff, he took his sword out of his mouth, holding two of them at the same time in one hand just to laugh at you. After all, it’s kind of funny that so little activity got you huffing and puffing.

“Come on - you that out of shape?” He mocked.

But your face looked numb - empty, even. And Zoro didn’t like that at all. Shakily, as you stood up from the weight bench, you felt that familiar racing heart leave you unsteady. Great, how the hell are you gonna get down like this? You didn’t bother answering Zoro, your eyes darting to the hole in the floor that led to the ladder. It’s a long climb down, and with the sweat on your palms, you weren’t certain you could make it. Maybe that’s what made this particular panic attack worse.

That’s when the hyperventilating really set in. And Zoro didn’t like that, at all.

“Hey, what gives? You okay?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, just…” You say, attempting to sound dismissive but the breathy quality of your voice gave away your anxiety. You couldn’t even finish the sentence, and your legs felt like lead as they carried you to the exit of the crow’s nest.

“(Y/N), don’t be an idiot.” Zoro interjected quickly, reaching out to grab your wrist. It wasn’t firm, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. As you turned to look at him, all words died on his tongue. You looked scared. He let go of your wrist, looking you up and down. “Seriously, what’s wrong? You look like you’re freaked out.”

“I just…I get them sometimes, it’s not a big…” You tried to say, but your voice sounded shaky. You couldn’t trust it, and talking felt like such a monumental task paired with the exhaustion of your racing heart. 

“Get what?” He asked, furrowing his brows as he looked at you. Yeah, he didn’t get it. Not one bit. Zoro had seen you countless times on the battlefield, holding your own against some of the toughest enemies. Not once had he seen this expression from you before, at least not during a simple training routine. 

“Um…panic attacks. It’s just…my body likes to, um…” You stammered, and Zoro felt his heart clench. What the hell is a panic attack? But it didn’t matter. Whatever it was had stressed you out, and Zoro didn’t like that. At all.

Setting his swords aside, he moved over to one of the walls and took a seat easily. He looked up at you expectantly, and no words needed to be exchanged before you walked over to join him. Thighs touching, Zoro put his arms behind his head and leaned back against the wall. 

“I ever tell you about the bounty hunting I did before joining the crew?”

You were caught off-guard, and it’s enough to temporarily confuse you. Shaking your head, Zoro took it as his cue to proceed. It was a long story - he had gotten lost leaving his village and decided to pick up bounty hunting, call it training. As you leaned against him and listened, you eventually began to interject with your own comments and questions. Jokes spilled out of both of you, and that vein pulse through your body steadily went to the back of your head. Before you knew it, laughs became less breathless and the stable feeling of Zoro’s arm against yours felt like an anchor. Maybe later he’d ask you about panic attacks, what they are, and how long you’ve had them. For now, though, he was content to just talk to you and see that smile return to your face.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

SANJI

You weren’t exactly sure what started it - whether it was the loud noises at dinner, the texture of the food as you scraped the pans clean, or the fact that you had carelessly dropped a dish and shattered it onto the ground. Regardless of what had actually gotten to you, your body felt that familiar rise of dread and paranoia that always signaled the start of a really, really long night. Sanji had assured you when you dropped the plate that it was fine, that he could clean it, and that you really didn’t need to help him clean up after dinner. After all, it was his responsibility, even when you insisted on spending this time with him every night.

That wasn’t enough to ease your mind or your racing pulse.

You sat down on a chair at the edge of the kitchen, hoping to catch your breath. You pressed your cool hands against your face, but it did nothing to abate the flush of anxiety pooling blood to your cheeks. Sanji being Sanji, it took him all of five seconds after throwing away the broken glass to notice that you weren’t okay.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, quirking a curled eyebrow as he looked at you. That look in your eyes when you turned your attention to him made his heart clench. Something was very, very wrong. “Don’t worry about the dish,” He added quickly, hoping that maybe this was the issue, “We have plenty. If you’d like, I can-”

“Sanji, please.” You murmured, burying your face in your hands again. This wasn’t like you, and that set off warning bells in his head yet again.

Taking a few measured steps forward, he bent down on one knee to look at you. You were shaking, your face was flushed, and it didn’t seem like you had any reason to be afraid. Yet, here you were, hiding your face from him in his kitchen.

“Mon amour, can you look at me?”

Something about that made you want to curl up into a ball and disappear. Maybe it was because he was so gentle, or maybe it was the shame of having this happen in front of him. Regardless, with a lot of reluctance, you peeked your eyes over your hands to meet his gaze. You were met with Sanji’s brows knitted, his eyes narrowed as he observed your expression carefully. For his part, Sanji had taken particular notice of your unsteady breathing. He thought he had an idea of what was going on, even if he didn’t fully understand what had started it. With a sigh, he stood up and took his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Can you do something for me?”

Your hands slowly dropped from your face down into your lap as you looked up at him. You watched as he lit up a cigarette, and he took your silence as you were either too upset to talk or at least willing to listen. With that permission, he continued.

“I want you to count down from a hundred. Can you do that? And when you’re finished, tell me how many things in this kitchen are blue.” He said simply, taking a drag from his cigarette. He was careful to blow the smoke away from you, and it was something that even in your panic attack, you appreciated. He was always so considerate.

“What?” You asked, your voice breathless. 

Sanji hummed at your question, flashing you a warm smile.

“Just trust me. Do it aloud, okay? I wanna hear it.” 

So, after a few moments of careful contemplation, you did. Unsteadily, you closed your eyes as you focused on each number. Your voice was still shaky when you reached the end, but you managed to get through it. When you opened your eyes, you looked around the kitchen and easily identified each blue item. Some kitchen towels, Sanji’s shirt, his eyes, a few cooking utensils. Sanji would occasionally ask for details, and by the end of it, you realized you weren’t shaking anymore. Your body was still, your heart was normal, and you felt…exhausted, but better. In your silence, Sanji let out a small laugh and put out his cigarette before walking over to the counter across the kitchen. He had to resume cleaning up, after all.

“That always helped me when I felt weird. Figured it might help you, too.” He answered as if he had predicted exactly what you were thinking. “Next time it happens, come find me. I’d be happy to help you out.”

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

LAW

You were walking through the halls of the Polar Tang, intent on getting some work done. Life wasn’t always easy on the ship, but the crew itself made it feel as though the sun wasn’t all that far away even hundreds of miles beneath the surface. It had been weeks since the ship had been anywhere near the open air, though, and that craving for freedom was starting to grate on everyone’s nerves.

You made it just outside of Law’s office, holding a logbook of some patients under your arms that you intended to show him. As your hand came up to knock on the door, though, the panic attack set in. It came as it always did - quickly, brutally, and with a raging need to be attended to immediately. You took a deep breath, trying to force your body to calm down with the knowledge that you’ve already knocked on Law’s door. It’s too late to walk away and come back later.

The moment Law opened the door, his face as neutral and uncompromising as always, he knew something was wrong. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something off about you. You looked almost surprised to see him there despite the fact that you knocked.

“(Y/N)-ya?” He asked, his tone as disinterested as his expression.

You took another deep breath, grabbing the book beneath your arm with shaky hands and holding it out to him.

“Here. I just needed to…give you this.” You said, your voice shaky and noticeably just a little labored.

“Thank you…” Law replied, a hint of skepticism in his tone as he accepted the book. He noticed the way your hands lingered on the book, almost like you were forgetting to let it go, and that was the last straw for Law. Something was clearly wrong. 

As you began to turn to leave his office, his hand darted out to gently grab your wrist. This didn’t help your anxiety, not one bit, and you froze in response. This didn’t go unnoticed by the surgeon.

“Hey, come in for a minute. I want to show you something.” He said, and his tone was as stern as usual, leaving no room for argument. Not that you could argue right now, anyway. 

You let him lead you into his office, the familiar cluttered spaces making you feel all the more claustrophobic. Ah, that’s what it was - the walls were closing in, leaving your lungs lacking air and your heart palpitating. Sometimes it was a little game to figure out what had set off the panic attack in the first place. 

And it seemed Law had somehow figured that out, too. He led you to his chair and gently sat you down, letting go of your wrist. You didn’t bother watching as he fumbled with something behind you, and before you knew it, a bright light shined down and provided warmth. You finally turned back to look at him, your brows furrowed. You’re met with that same unaffected stare as he moved around you, leaning a hand and his hip against his desk.

“It’s not good to be without sunlight for so long. I picked one of these UV lamps up at a port a few islands back. I think I’ll be buying a few more for the sub.” Law explained, speaking of it as if it’s something as mundane as the weather. For you, though, you feel your heart spike. This time, not with anxiety - anticipation.

“Really?” You asked, and that hopeful lilt in your voice made the doctor smile just a fraction. 

“Yeah.” He responded simply, and he turned his gaze to a porthole on the far wall. Then, to your surprise, he kept speaking. “Panic attacks are pretty common, (Y/N)-ya, and I know them when I see them. I have some reading I’d like to give you, and maybe we can talk medication at some point. For now, just try to relax and soak in the UV.”

You were nearly floored at his response. You’d tired yourself out so often having to explain what panic attacks were, how they affected you, and why they came up. But Law knew. Of course he did. You remained silent for a moment before leaning back in his chair, closing your eyes to take his advice. This pleased him more than words could say.

Your heart was still racing, that dread making you feel dizzy, but the warmth of the UV light was almost soothing. You heard Law rustling with some things on his desk, busying himself, and he began to read some of the logs from the book you’d given him out loud. You weren’t sure if it was more for himself or for you, but his voice did add that last touch to help relax and calm you down. When you felt your heart return to normal, and your lungs were satisfied with the oxygen you provided them, you finally settled down into a restful sleep in Law's chair. He was grateful that you couldn't see the small smile that rose to his lips.

[reiding-writing]

I need more enemy! reader 😖

SILENT TREATMENT. /spencer reid/

after you took two days off sick, spencer is delighted to have someone to pick on again. but your lack of a voice makes it less fun than he was hoping.

enemy!reader 1.1k fluff? series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | so super self indulgent because my vocal chords feel like they are dying right now

The office feels different after just two days away. Maybe it’s the lingering fog of illness still clinging to your brain, or maybe it’s just the fluorescent lighting feeling harsher than usual.

Either way, stepping back into your workspace feels like an uphill battle. You’re exhausted already, and you’ve barely made it past the threshold.

Your desk looks exactly how you left it—papers slightly out of order, a coffee cup you really should’ve washed before leaving, and a small stack of reports waiting to be reviewed.

But the true indication that you’ve been absent isn’t the minor mess; it’s the fact that everything is… still. No disruptions. No missing items. No sudden shifts in your chair’s height or the keyboard being set to a different language.

You exhale, already knowing exactly what that means.

And right on cue—

“Ah, finally. I Thought you might’ve died.”

You close your eyes, inhaling through your nose, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Spencer.

You turn, eyes locking onto the gangly menace standing by the entrance to your cubicle. He looks positively delighted, like a cat who just spotted a mouse he’s been chasing for days.

“I was going to send a search party,” he continues, leaning against your desk like he owns the place. “Or at the very least, start drafting my in memoriam speech. Something really touching. Probably would’ve opened with, ‘Despite being a constant source of disappointment, she will be missed.’”

Normally, this is where you’d fire back—some sharp remark about his tragic lack of social skills or a well-placed jab about his questionable taste in ties. But today, all you can do is glare.

Because today, speaking is not an option.

You cough into your sleeve, the force of it rattling in your chest, and you barely stifle a grimace at how awful it sounds. When you glance back at Spencer, he’s still watching you expectantly, waiting for a comeback.

Nothing.

His smug expression falters. “Hello? You in there?” He waves a hand in front of your face.

You clear your throat and attempt something—anything—but the moment you try to speak, it’s like dragging barbed wire through your throat. The only thing that escapes is a broken, raspy wheeze.

Spencer’s brow furrows. “Oh my God. Are you dying?”

You scowl, grabbing the closest thing to you—a post-it note—and hastily scribble down:

I CAN’T SPEAK RIGHT NOW, BUT WHEN I CAN, I WILL DESTROY YOU.

For dramatic effect, you add an angry face.

Then you chuck it at his head.

It bounces off his forehead and flutters to the desk. He picks it up, reads it, and tilts his head in consideration.

“Well,” he sighs, “that pulls all the fun out of making fun of you.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I mean, if you can’t fight back, it’s not mutual, it’s just bullying, and I—” he gestures vaguely, “—am not a bully.”

You scoff—or at least try to. It comes out as another pathetic wheeze.

Spencer’s eyes narrow as he watches you cough again, and then, to your absolute horror, his entire expression shifts from mischievous to… something else. Something thoughtful. Calculating.

This is not good.

This is never good.

Before you can even attempt to communicate your distrust, he abruptly spins on his heel and walks away.

You stare after him.

That was weird.

Too weird.

And you do not trust it.

—

For the rest of the morning, Spencer is, alarmingly, nowhere to be found. It would be a relief if not for the nagging worry that he’s planning something. Which, let’s be honest, he definitely is.

Your suspicion is confirmed when he returns just before lunch, carrying a steaming mug with the smuggest look on his face.

You immediately sit up straighter, eyeing him warily.

“Good news,” Spencer announces, plopping the mug onto your desk. “I have found a solution to your problem,”

You blink at it.

Then at him.

Then back at the cup.

“Drink,” he orders, arms crossed.

You stare.

He stares back.

You grab another post-it and write, What the hell is this??

Spencer scoffs. “Tea.”

You give him a long, suspicious look before scribbling again: You don’t make tea. You drink the same disgusting coffee every day.

“Yes, well,” he says, rolling his eyes, “I figured if I’m going to be denied my entertainment, the least I can do is fix you faster,”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Spencer sighs like this is exhausting for him, even though you are the one suffering. “It’s a blend of ginger, honey, lemon, and some herbs known for their medicinal properties. Helps with throat inflammation and vocal cord strain,”

You look back down at the cup.

The colour is… deeply unappealing. Murky. Slightly too thick. Suspicious.

You write, You poisoned this.

Spencer groans, dragging a hand down his face. “If I poisoned you, I’d be way more subtle about it,”

You squint.

He sighs, exasperated. “Look, the ginger helps with inflammation, honey coats the throat to reduce irritation, lemon is antibacterial, and the herbs are—”

You hold up a hand, cutting him off, and scrawl: I don’t trust you.

He makes an offended noise. “That’s hurtful.”

You just stare at him.

“…Okay, it’s fair,” he admits. “But come on, do you really want to spend the next however-many days sounding like a cryptid in the woods?”

You consider that.

You consider the tea.

You consider Spencer.

And then, begrudgingly, you pick up the cup.

He watches with far too much interest as you take the tiniest sip.

The moment it hits your tongue, you gag.

Spencer beams.

You drop the cup like it physically hurt you and reach for a new sticky note:

YOU MADE IT BAD ON PURPOSE.

Spencer smirks. “Obviously.”

You glare.

—

You end up drinking half the mug, mostly because Spencer refuses to leave your desk until you do.

And, annoyingly, after about an hour, your throat does feel a little better. Not by much, but enough that when you whisper a single word—“Traitor.”—it actually comes out without sounding like a dying walrus.

Spencer gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “It works! Who would’ve thought? The genius actually knows what helps,”

You just glare at him again.

He leans against your desk, smirking. “So, how does it feel to know that I, your sworn rival, am the reason for your miraculous recovery?”

You pause, then scrawl another note.

I’m plotting my revenge as we speak.

Spencer grins. “Good. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You lean across your desk so you can cough in his face, throwing another post-it note directly at his disgustedly agape mouth.

I hope you contract my illness and die.

[summer-oil]

THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

[valiwrites]

vali where did you go??? you didn't love us anymore?? :((

[ found this in my drafts :) yes i was gone for a while 😔 school drained me im sorry for waiting, i will make more stories from now on! otherwise check my wattpad: vickybutter for full stories ]

sick ━ charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

warnings: nothing only fluff

The sky over Monaco was a dull grey, heavy clouds rolling over the coast like someone had drawn the blinds on the entire city. The rain hadn’t let up since dawn, the soft patter against the windows weaving in and out of your thoughts like background music to a film.

You stood barefoot in the kitchen, stirring a pot of chicken noodle soup with one hand, phone cradled between your shoulder and cheek. You were talking to your mom, half-distracted, eyes occasionally darting to the hallway leading to the living room.

“…no, Mom, he’s not dying. It’s just the flu,” you said with a small laugh, though your brows furrowed slightly. “Yes, I made him tea. No, not the ginger kind. He hates ginger. Yes, I made him change his socks.”

You hung up just as the soup hit a slow, rolling boil. The entire flat smelled like garlic, thyme, and something soothing. Comfort food. You hoped it would help. Charles wasn’t a good patient—he hated being down, hated being weak. Maybe it was the athlete in him, or the Monegasque stubbornness, or both.

You ladled the soup into a bowl, grabbed a glass of water, some tissues, and the cold medicine you’d all but forced him to take earlier. You balanced everything on a tray and padded into the living room.

Charles was exactly where you’d left him: slumped sideways on the couch in a sea of fleece blankets, his face half-buried in a pillow, damp hair matted to his forehead. His usual olive skin was paler than normal, with a rosy flush over his cheeks and nose that would’ve been cute if he didn’t look so miserable.

“Soup delivery,” you announced softly.

He stirred, blinking blearily. “You’re an angel.”

“You say that now. Wait until I make you take another dose of that disgusting syrup later.”

He groaned, weakly. “I’d rather crash the Ferrari.”

You laughed, setting the tray down and sitting beside him. You pressed a hand to his forehead, frowning. Still too warm. “Your fever’s not breaking.”

“Maybe it’ll go away if I just… stop acknowledging it.”

“Oh, so we’re doing the ‘ignore it and hope it disappears’ method? Very scientific, Mr. Leclerc.”

He cracked a tired smile. “It works for tire degradation.”

You rolled your eyes and handed him the soup, waiting as he slowly sat up to sip at it. He made a small, appreciative sound in the back of his throat after the first spoonful. You reached over and tucked the blanket around his legs again—he’d been kicking it off in his sleep all morning.

“Do you want to try eating more later?” you asked, gently carding your fingers through his hair.

“If it’s this soup, then yes.”

You tilted your head. “You’re sweet when you’re feverish.”

“I’m always sweet,” he croaked, before breaking into a harsh cough that made him double over. You rubbed his back until it passed, then handed him the water.

“I don’t know how you still look good like this,” you muttered. “It’s genuinely unfair.”

He sniffled dramatically. “Don’t lie. I look like a sickly goat.”

“You do not. Goats don’t have eyelashes like yours.”

He leaned his head against your shoulder after a few more bites of soup, warm and slightly damp. “Marry me.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled, throat raw. “Not now. But one day. When I’m not disgusting.”

“Charles,” you said with a soft smile, wrapping an arm around him, “you could propose in the middle of a tissue avalanche and I’d still say yes.”

He paused, eyes lifting toward yours in that half-sleepy, vulnerable way you’d only seen a handful of times—moments when the helmet was off, the walls down.

“…Yeah?” he whispered.

You kissed his temple. “Yeah.”

A few hours passed in quiet.

Charles fell asleep against you, the soup forgotten, his fingers still loosely tangled with yours. You scrolled through your phone, read a few pages of a novel, checked his temperature again. He stirred every now and then, mumbling in French, half-lucid dreams mixing with the sound of the rain.

At one point, he startled awake, sweating and disoriented.

“Shh, baby, it’s just the fever,” you murmured, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth. He leaned into your hand like it grounded him.

“I thought I missed the race,” he said, still halfway in the dream.

“There’s no race. You’re safe. You’re home.”

He exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

Later, you coaxed him into a lukewarm bath to help bring his temperature down. He sat in the water like a sulking cat, hair damp, eyes drooping.

“I hate this,” he muttered.

“I know. But you’ll feel better. And I promise not to take any embarrassing photos.”

“…You better not.”

You tossed a clean towel at him. “I’ll delete the ones I already took, then.”

“Chérie!”

That evening, the rain let up for a while. The apartment glowed gold with lamp light, warm against the grey outside.

Charles was bundled in fresh pajamas and propped up with pillows in bed, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. You sat beside him with a heating pad over your lap and a book in hand. The air smelled faintly of eucalyptus from the diffuser you'd set up earlier.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, voice still rough but clearer.

You looked over. “You’d do the same.”

“I know. But still. You could’ve just left me to wallow.”

“You’d get soup on the ceiling if I did.”

He laughed—really laughed, even if it turned into a cough halfway through. You leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek, letting them linger.

He reached up and gently cupped your face, thumb brushing along your jaw. “You make even the worst days feel bearable.”

You kissed him again, softer this time. “That’s the job, isn’t it?”

His eyes searched yours, even glassy and heavy-lidded, and there was something more serious behind them now. “If I ever got really sick—like, properly sick—would you stay?”

The question knocked the breath from you for a moment.

“Of course I would. You don’t even have to ask.”

“I think about it sometimes,” he admitted, “how racing is everything one day, and the next… it’s gone. What if I wasn’t Charles Leclerc anymore?”

You closed the book and set it aside, fully turning toward him.

“You’d still be you,” you said, fingers brushing his. “I fell in love with you. Not just the driver. Not the Ferrari suit. Not the podiums. You, who snores when he’s stuffed up and eats cereal with a fork when we’re out of spoons. You who loves his family more than anything and sings off-key in the shower.”

He swallowed hard. “You make it sound like I’m worth staying for.”

“You are,” you said simply.

A long pause, just the sound of the rain starting up again outside.

Then: “I’m definitely marrying you.”

You laughed, threading your fingers through his again. “Not until you can say it without coughing halfway through.”

“Fine. But start looking at dresses anyway.”

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hi!! I’m a little lurker who only did one request once and I forgot what happened to that one so I have a different request!!

can you…uhm…write a little thing about priest!fyodor who believes reader to be a god but reader just a normal human?

And like human is a virgin and…you know where I’m going with this.

A worshiper Fyodor taking his beloved God’s virginity by riding reader until he passes out from how many times Fyodor bounced on his cock.

idk I just can’t stop thinking about it but I don’t think I worded it pretty well and you have pretty words soooo…

I’m sorry for bothering you with this imma just

go back to lurking once more…

but if I could bother you again? Can I be 🕶️ anon please?

This is similar to something I have started long ago! On my old blog! But it got deleted along with my drafts :’)

Dom!reader x sub!priest!fyodor - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (I use dick), use of condom (wow scary), no prep, cum play (licking), hierophilia, corruption, taking virginity, worshipping, fucking in a church, dacryphilia, handjob, cumming untouched, mind break, sub space, bruises, god - worshipper relationship

It happened the moment he laid his eyes on you. When you walked in, pass the grand wooden door and slandered through the small halls. That miraculous day was Sunday, morning to be precise, and you came in late for the morning chant. Everyone who sat on the benches turned their head to look at you, some with scorn, some with a mocking grin. You looked unfazed and went straight to the first row, keeping eye contact with one single person, the priest in charge.

That cold attitude despite the loud voices, the way your every move was as smooth and elegant as clear water. Your expression after sitting down, lips shut while keeping your arrogant eyes on him, as if to judge him, to attest to something. All that appeared divine in his eyes, superior even, it caused a shudder to run down his spine. He had never felt such a pressing sensation before, it was the first time.

You were staring at him so much, though he couldn’t read your intentions. Nothing, only emptiness. A gentle breeze, that brought forth comfort, turning into an icy storm capable of destruction. These words would be perfect to describe you, or how his view of you, because everyone else seems to think otherwise. Most of them scoffed about you coming in late, those little complains soon changed into more vicious words. Like a devils curse, causing the once friendly guests to sin.

“Dear father, may we continue with the morning prayers?” Among the low whispers of the devil, a voice akin to an angels emerged. “Excuse me..?” Fyodor murmured, eyes subconsciously darting to the direction of the sound. Once again, it was you who called out to him. A blush crept onto his cheeks when he noticed your piercing gaze, it was a little embarrassing that he dazed out there. “Yes, of course, pardon my inattentiveness.” The priest said, glancing at you a last time before focusing on his duties. Or at least he tried, because he couldn’t concentrate. The entire time he found himself stealing glances at you, watching you. This wasn’t like him, he couldn’t even recognise himself.

From then onwards, he found himself searching for your eyes or attention. It began with him asking around about you, then it gradually turned into him actively seeking you out. Your meetings became more frequent, and more private as well. One day, he found you kneeling in the confession box, boringly staring through the bars. He quickly positioned himself, then asked, “what brings you to me, my child?”

Seeing you up close was a new experience, he felt the tingly sensation crawling around his body again. “Father, I’m here because I believe you have something to confess.” You said with a voice coated in sweet honey. “Me, confess?” The priest mumbled, obviously baffled by your words no matter how he adored your voice. “That’s right, I can see. If you have something to say, do it now.” After hearing you out, he swallowed the lump in his throat, before smiling at you meekly and admitting, “I fear I’m not loyal to my god anymore.”

It took a lot out of him, a servant of god, to utter these words. Of course it wasn’t without reason. Simply being in your presence made him feel special and watched, as if those nonchalant eyes of yours were the watching gaze of god. He couldn’t explain it, it was a chilly feeling, but at the same time it burned him from the inside. “Speak, father.” You spoke, then he suddenly slammed his hands against the wall separating the two of you. “My lord, you don’t have to speak politely with me. I, Fyodor, this lowly subject of yours, am ready to serve you with all my heart.” The male announced, smiling at you in delight, cheeks rosy as he declared you as his new god.

Anyone who heard this would have thought he was out of his mind, staring at him with a face that screams the word disbelief. But not you, contrary to what one would expect, your expression stayed neutral. “My subject? Lord?” You questioned his choice of vocabularies, tilting your head to the side. “Yes, oh lord, please let þis servant worship you.” Then, to your surprise, the father you were supposed to confess to kneeled down and clasped his hands together, praying to you with a sickening obsession.

That shivering, oppressive feeling didn’t leave him alone, it gnawed at him and told him this was the right thing to do. He couldn’t care less what he was supposed to do or not, all that wasn’t important anymore. Since his deity has come down and granted him an audience, he only has to follow their- your orders from now on.

Whatever got him acting this way was all in his head, you were nowhere near of being a god. Quite the opposite, you were just a human like him, and you found his actions irritating. But you weren’t any better, you didn’t correct him, rather, you liked that desperate look on his face. You wanted to test his limits, to see how far he’d go for you. In truth you enjoyed playing god for him, depending on who you are asking this might be even more twisted than what fyodor was pulling off.

It started with you getting him to do bothersome stuff for you, sometimes it also became materialistic. Other times you would just converse with him and enjoy his company. He’d ask tausend questions about you, some trivial, some existential ones. Most of the time you’d put up with his antics, acting like a benevolent and nice deity. That’s when one day, one of his curiosities caught you off guard. It was when he asked you:

“my lord, do.. you want me to comfort you?” You stared at him with furrowed brows and scoffed “comfort? Where did you get that idea?” “You look stressed my lord, I wish I could do something for you.” Fyodor said, he was on his knees in front of you, who was sitting on a bench in a huge room. The room where each Sunday a crowd of people would come in for morning prayers.

He looked up at you with foggy eyes, hands itching to worship your body. How could someone be this divine and perfect? Obviously he was the chosen one, he was born to meet you. “That… I’ve never done anything like that before. Speaking of which, have you, as a priest?” You questioned, a tiny bit interested. “No, I kept my chastity for you, my god.” Fyodor answered shamelessly, then thought about what you told him.

If what you said was right, then he awfully wanted to give his first to you, and to be your first as well. To take the virginity of his most beloved god and to give, there was nothing more he could ask of. “Is that so?” Your warm voice broke off the momentary silence, then you continued with, “come here.” You tapped your thighs, wondering if he would do it. Did he believe in you enough to commit something that has always been taboo for him? A part of you doubted it, but you wished he’d obey you yet again.

The boy stared at your moving hands for a while, then did as you instructed, climbing onto your lap with reddened cheeks. “…like this?” He raised his arms, about to wrap them around your neck but decided against that. Then he bawled them into fists and kept them behind his back, before grinding against your crotch with his own bulge. “Nghh... fo-forgive me, hah I-lord, can I please continue?" Fyodor mumbled with squinted eyes, biting his bottom lip while he let his desires take over. You grabbed his waist, wrinkling his black robe and stopping him, whispering, "D-don't move, not in the church." Your conscious forbid you from carrying out such acts in a holy place. Sure, you provoked him first, though you didn’t expect it to escalate this soon.

He begged you with glistening, teary eyes, hoping you'd let him go further than that. It felt so good he couldn't stop, he has never even touched himself before so that simple gesture was enough to make him drool. "P-please." Fyodor groaned into your ear, his voice has never been this needy or lewd, it surprised both of you. Instead of stopping when you told him to, he continued to grind against you and whimper, "use me however you see fit, my lord, please let me he-help you." You clenched your teeth, use is a strong word. It’d be a lie to say you weren't aroused, so you sighed and complied with his request, "dammit, fine. Go and get my bag."

This was how you were going to have your first? Giving it to a crazy priest who believes you were a being above humanity? Who would have guessed…

You watched him get off with shaky legs, the spot between his legs was all wet and sticky already. Was it normal to be this sensitive? It's probably because he's a virgin, just look at him eagerly bringing your stuff to you. Once he came back, you fumbled around in your bag, luckily you always brought your stuff with you in case of a spontaneous one-night-stand. It never happened before, yet you knew you would need it one day. After you were done with the preparations, you opened a pack of condom, about to pull it over your length when he clasped his hand over yours. "L-let me do it." He proposed, hands shaking with embarrassment as he took slowly pulled it down to the shaft. You almost laughed because he was making such a big deal out of it, sweating furiously with an ashamed gaze.

"Do you find it dirty to touch it?" You chuckled after watching him for a bit, finding his reactions pretty amusing. "No-no.!! No.. that, I-I'm.." His face heat up again as he tried to find the right words. In the end he decided to just speed up the entire thing, and grabbed the bottle of lube that was in your other hand. Then he squeezed the contents onto your dick and spread it evenly, wondering if this would even fit. After a minute, you grabbed his wrist and scoffed, "are you done playing?" Out of nervousness and excitement he forgot to stick it inside him, looking away in shame before lining the tip up with his hole.

"HnnGgh.. this is h-hard.." he complained under his breath, trying his best to take you. You wanted to prepare him first, but he said he wanted the first thing to enter him to be you and not some fingers. Since that was what he wanted, you decided to let him be. That's what led to your current situation, where he's desperately poking his entrance with your dick. “NghhHg..! Ah, f-feels good..” Finally he managed to take your tip, already panting like he had ran a marathon. "Good job." You praised him, then caressed his soft thighs. They were covered by his clothes, which annoyed you a little, so you gripped his hips and butt before slamming him down your cock. "AhhHGGgNN.!? AahHH..! H-hurts.." He moaned out loudly, then slumped against your chest, fingers clawing at you for support.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, his body shivered at the sudden impact. You were stretching him so much, he could swear his butt was going to tear. At the same time he was so happy, enjoying this to the fullest. His insides were working overtime, trying to accommodate your thickness and length, his rim clenching and loosening up with each inhale. He made such sinful noises when your hands squeezed his snatched waist, to the point you wondered if he was telling the truth earlier. After waiting for him to stop holding onto you like his life depended on it, you cupped his cheeks, making him look up at you. “Look here, fyodor, tell me how good it feels.” Then you grind your hips against his.

The movements were minimal, you didn’t make him ride you yet, only pushing it slightly deeper inside him. Yet the reaction was better than expected. He arched his back, throwing his arms around your neck out of reflex and whined, “ahHhH!! I-i love it, god, it’s so NGhh m-my insides are tingling..♡” You clicked your tongue, grabbing his butt to have a better grip and praised him, “so good for me.. there’s to turning back now, you don’t mind sinning for me, right?” He didn’t even think twice before saying, “I’ll do whatever you want me to..!”

After getting his permission, you told him to hold onto you tightly. Once he did as you commanded, you manhandled him and made him go up and down your dick. Your little worshipper wasn’t particularly short, rather, he was unusually light. He couldn’t even keep a straight face composure anymore, crashing against you once again as he moaned into your ears. Poor boy was crying due to the overwhelming pleasure, thighs trying to close together in a twitching manner and toes curled off the ground. Drool dripped down his chin and soaked your clothes, all while he moaned out your Titel.

“L-lord, god.. ah, please!! S-slow down.. ngHh, too much, too big..♡♡” his voice became higher with each trust, and bruises began to form around his hips because of your rough grip. “Didn’t you say I can do what I want?” You reminded him, licking your lips when you saw his melting face. How those beautiful water drops raced down his cheeks like soft rain against a window. His pupils even formed little hearts to match that pleasure-ridden gaze in his eyes. Most of his bangs stuck to his forehead, the rest of his hair bounced around whenever you made him ride you.

Then you said fuck it and ripped his priest robe, so that you’d have more access to his skin. “Hu-hUHmnn..?! M-my lord! AhhHNN!!” He shrieked when he noticed one of your hand on his inner thighs, pinching and groping his skin. “W-why there..? Nghhh…” Fyodor groaned, a tad embarrassed by the intimate touch. His deity was touching him after all. Alone the thought of you, his one and only god, fucking him and using him was enough to get him to the verge of cumming.

More precum leaked from his shameless tip, soiling the back of your hand. “M-m’sorry, so-sorry..ah, for being d-dirty..!” He immediately apologised, holding your wrist weakly and bringing it to his lips. Then he slowly licked off the pre, using kitten licks that looked so inexperienced and adorable that you had to tease him more. Sticking your finger into his mouth and snapping your hips against his. Fastening your pace, going rougher and deeper, rutting into him like he was some fleshlight. At this point his petite body won’t be able to take it! He’s so slim and vulnerable, it’d be a shame to break his mind and make him your toy, wouldn’t it?

“MhmMNN… ah, r-right there..Nghh, too f-fast, g-god! feels good~ ♡” Fyodor mewled into your ears, squeaking as he tried to shake his ass for you. But he was more on the passive side, letting you move his body however you saw fit. His sloppy and slutty hole was making squelching noises whenever you bottom out in him, all sticky with lube already. You were so caught up in the moment, you weren’t even sure what you were doing. All you knew was you wanted to touch him, to feel up his figure and trace the outlines of his body. Then you kissed his neck, causing him to whimper uncontrollably. “Hnghh… I- mHhm, l-lord help me.. I want more♡ something is coming out..!!” The boy gasped and smiled, grinning satisfied, the expression almost looked dumb.

You did as he asked of you, slamming him down onto your dick harder and trying to hit his sweet spot more often. The way it rubbed and played with his soft and warm walls made him see the light, or he was just about to blank out. “Nghh! F-forgive me.. for my siiiinnns..!! ♡♥︎～” The priest, Fyodor, your exclusive worshipper and toy servant groaned a last time before shooting ropes of cum out of his twitching member. His thick and filthy cum got everywhere. From his ripped clothes to his milky inner thighs and chest. Then he slumped down, pleasure and sensations he never felt before all coursing through him at once. He felt so good, this was the first time he felt this amazing. It must be due to you, because of your blessings.

Oh how lucky he was to serve such a kindhearted and generous god, who was patient enough to show him all this bliss. This was heavenly~ His body was still a shaking, twitching mess. The lingering ecstasy making him sob and moan louder. After giving him a gift this great, he will have to serve you even more diligently and wholeheartedly! He will make sure to worship and treasure whatever you gave him!

Even you had to catch up your breath since the session was so intense, panting a little while still admiring him. You were still inside him, and he was clenching down onto you without letting you pull out. Then you leaned back against the lean of the bench, signing when you realised what you just did. Now you were definitely going to hell. Fucking a priest in the praying halls, were you possessed? Right before you could tell him to get off, since you two had to clean up, he took off his clothes completely. “Huh..? Fyodor?” You whispered in disbelief. Sure, you ruined his robes, but why did he take them off?

It was the first time you saw him entirely naked, and he was as skinny as you noticed him to be. His nipples were all hard and pink, a cute colour in your opinion. A few seconds later, he re-positioned himself in your lap despite his legs giving up under him. Then, he slowly rode you, jumping up and down while wrapping one hand around his shaft. You rushed to stop him, saying, “wait a sec- shouldn’t we, especially you, take a break?” Seriously, for how sickly and pathetic he looks, he had quit the stamina? Instead of obeying you like normally, fyodor smirked obsessively and moaned, “G-god, forgive me for i-indulging..! Ahhh.. I’m so sinful, I deserve punishment. But..!! it’s just so good I can’t stop ♥︎♡.”

What…? Wait- isn’t this priest too slutty…?? It seems you’ll have to suck it up and wait until he milked himself dry on your dick ♥︎

[azzifuddfanpage]

So the world knows🫶🏻

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*this is not my story guys ‼️‼️

full credits to my amazing anon who actually cooked so I’m posting it since they can’t but ya hope u guys love this as much as I did

❣️ANON HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED AS @wbbfann❣️

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Author note

~A story told in past tense through small snippets of a fictional Pazzi World.

————-

The way Paige and Azzi announced their relationship was subtle and without much conversation. Paige knew that without a doubt, no matter how many seats she was given at her draft table, Azzi would be there. When she was announced as the #1 pick she stood, turned to her parents for a brief hug and then quickly found the arms of the one person who mattered most to her, Azzi. She latched on to her as Azzi whispered “I love you, P. I am so proud of you. This is your moment. Your deserve it.” Paige smiled and leaned up from the hug and placed her forehead gently on Azzi’s knowing they only had a second she said “I love you so much, this isn’t my moment without you right here.” She placed her hand briefly on Azzi’s cheek and Azzi smiled “I’m here, now go to the podium.” She chuckled and so did Paige, and then Paige walked up to the podium as the #1 draft pick.

Perhaps it was that moment that told the world, or perhaps it was later that night when Azzi posted on her social media pictures of them congratulating Paige, gushing over her, and then ending the post with “I love you the most.” Only for Paige to comment on it “you’re the love of my life for real, thank you Baby 💗.” It wasn’t a comment Paige ran by Azzi, but she didn’t need too. Without saying anything, even though the girls were sitting next to each other on a couch at the after party, Azzi replied back to it “always 😘💗”

To capitalize on what they already established tonight, Paige allowed her teammates to go live one more time at the draft after party. KK was talking to the live as she normally did, wrapping her arm around Paige and hyping her up about the night and telling all the fans to get a Wings Jersey and to buy some tickets. Paige just laughed at her friends. She read some comments “umm Paige and Azzi came out!” “Pazzi for life” and then “Paige where is your girlfriend?” Paige smiled before she said “where’s my girlfriend? She’s right here, “baby the live wants to see you.” KK’s grin spread from ear to ear and then she eventually got out of the frame and Azzi joined her. She looked at Paige and smiled then turned toward the camera, waiving, “hi live.” The comments went nuts. They came in so fast the couldn’t even read them. Azzi laughed “ok guys slow down let me look at some of these.” Azzi settled on a comment to read out loud “Paige and Azzi are in love 😭” Azzi giggled and looked at Paige and Paige raised an eyebrow Azzi leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder and looked at the camera “yeah we are.” The team behind them came into the frame then, jumping for joy and wrapping their arms around them. They all laughed and then Paige said “aight aight, bye live! I’ll see you in Dallas!” Paige dragged Azzi way from her teammates and let KK do whatever she was going to do. She found a corner, wrapped up Azzi in her arms and kissed her. She kissed her for a long time, until Brittany came up behind them. “Ahem, you may want to chill.” They pulled apart with laughter, Paige said “when have I ever been chill about Azzi.” Brittany laughed “true.”

When the girls would wake up the next morning ,in their hotel room, they’d see the internet going crazy over their deceleration of love. It didn’t bother them, they were ready for it.

They would also wake to many texts from friends and family, congratulating them, supporting them, and very thankful they didn’t have to evade weird questions from people about their relationship. John and Jose were the most grateful the pressure was now off of them having an accidental slip up.

~

Even though they had been together for essentially 7 years, defined or not, they had a lot of firsts. Like when Azzi showed up courtside to Paige’s first game wearing a jersey and Paige couldn’t stop staring at her. Yes, she had worn her jersey a couple of times.. but this time everyone knew that they belonged to each other. When the game was over and after acknowledgements to her team and the other team, Paige would walk straight to her girlfriend, and kiss her. Cameras around and all, Azzi would just smile and shake her head at her girlfriend. “Come with me to sign autographs.” P said immediately and Azzi followed suit as fans screamed for both Paige and Azzi. Azzi ended up signing everything Paige did and walked down the tunnel with her. In the post game media presser Paige would get her first taste of WNBA media personal who loved to ask all kinds of non basketball related questions. “Paige, we saw Azzi here tonight in your jersey, the affection you showed her at the end of the game, and then her walking down the tunnel with you. As I’m sure you know social media is already going crazy, I was just wondering if you had any comment on your relationship with your long time best friend.” Paige smiled “umm yeah, social media is what it is- but Azzi has always been there for me, I knew she’d be here today cheering me on and wearing my Jersey. I love her more than life and just really grateful to have her support.” Azzi would tell Paige later that she handled that question well, they didn’t want to ignore their relationship in the press but they also didn’t want it to be a focal point around everything they did.

~

Once the W season was over, Paige would get the chance to return her support as she would sit right behind the bench, in a #35 jersey cheering loudly for Azzi and the UConn Huskies. When the game was over and they had won, Paige would walk on the court hugging her former teammates and wrapping up her girlfriend in the biggest bear hug. She wouldn’t kiss her, only because CD would ban her from the court, but she did let hands linger just a bit on her hug.

~

In April, when it would be Azzi waiting to be drafted, Paige would sit at the table along with the Fudds and when Azzi was selected #2, one behind Lauren Betts, Azzi would take her last hug at the table from Paige, and then lightly kiss her lips before heading to the podium. Paige would stand the entire time, watching her being interviewed and smiling as big as she could.

~

When Paige and Azzi would meet each other for the first time on opposing squads, they wore matching shoes. Paige walked up to Azzi who entered on the court before tip off with the rest of the starting 5 for her squad. They had decided they’d go back to their roots when they would see each other on the court, so they brought their hands together and did their familiar USA basketball handshake as the cameras watched. The crowd at Dallas erupted, and the girls laughed. “Good luck baby” Paige said. Azzi winked “I don’t need luck, I’ll see your ass once this is over.” Paige laughed “like my naked ass?” “Yep” Azzi said over her shoulder, as she walked to join her team. Paige just smiled after her, laughing, and then dapped up Arike to get in game mode.

That evening the girls would lock themselves away from the world, relishing in the short time they had together. They knew this was their new normal and they were ok with that. It didn’t matter they would now have more days apart than together.. because the days together were worth every single one they spent apart.

[loveesiren]

ㄒ卂ㄥҜ ㄒㄖ 爪乇

Kwon Jiyong x deceased!reader

a/n: i found this in my drafts, I've been trying my hand at horror and fantasy because horror is what inspires me most. I'm also Pagan and big into witchcraft and magick. I also love the movie Talk To Me. Lol so all around, I'm just trying something new. Idk if I'll do part two or not. But let me know what you think? If it's not your cup of tea, just keep scrolling lol

warnings: angst, drinking, fatherhood, widowed partner, supernatural, rough draft, probably poorly edited because I'm drunk so excuse the mistakes

wc: 2.2k+

“Daddy?”

Jiyong’s head snapped up, his red-rimmed eyes meeting the small, fragile figure in the doorway. Parker stood there, clutching his worn blanket in one hand and a mess of printer paper and a framed photo in the other. The soft glow of the hallway light cast a halo around Parker’s messy hair, making him look even smaller, even more innocent in that moment.

“Hey, buddy,” Jiyong croaked, his voice hoarse from crying. He quickly wiped at his face with his sleeves, but the evidence was still there—the tear tracks glistening on his cheeks, his long hair disheveled and hanging in his face. “What’s up? Did you have a bad dream?”

But Parker didn’t move. He stayed planted in the doorway, thumb in his mouth, his big eyes studying his father’s broken expression. At just four years old, he was sharper than most gave him credit for. He saw the sadness that lingered like a heavy fog around his father, especially today.

“Do you miss Mommy?” Parker asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jiyong’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. His head dipped, but a small, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips at the sound of his son’s voice—so innocent, so full of love.

“Yeah, buddy,” he murmured. “I do. I miss her a lot.”

There was a brief pause before Parker shuffled forward, his little feet making soft sounds against the wooden floor. “Want me to tell you a story ‘bout her?”

Jiyong’s throat tightened. Normally, it was Parker who begged for stories about Mommy before bed, eager to hear his father’s colorful tales of her as a strong princess who could conquer any monster. But today was different. Today was their anniversary—the second one without her—and Jiyong felt like he was drowning in the weight of her absence.

But Parker, sweet Parker, had noticed. And he had taken it upon himself to try and mend his daddy’s heart, one story at a time.

“Yeah,” Jiyong whispered, his voice trembling. “I’d love that. Come here, buddy.”

Parker climbed onto the bed with his tiny legs, settling himself on the side where she used to sleep. He handed Jiyong the photo, his little hands careful with the frame. It was the picture Jiyong had taken when she was pregnant—her long hair cascading over her shoulders, that lavender dress flowing around her as she stood in a field of wildflowers, cradling her swollen belly with a radiant smile. She had looked like a dream.

A single tear slipped down Jiyong’s cheek as he stared at the photo, his thumb tracing the outline of her face.

“I wrote a story about Mommy,” Parker announced proudly, pulling out a handful of crumpled papers covered in colorful scribbles and stick figures.

Jiyong smiled through his tears, setting the photo gently on the nightstand. “Lay down, Daddy,” Parker instructed, patting his chest with tiny hands. “So I can read it to you.”

Obliging, Jiyong leaned back against the pillows, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and sorrow.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he whispered.

“First, this is us!” Parker exclaimed, holding up a drawing with three stick figures. One was tall with long hair labeled “Mommy,” another a bit shorter with bright orange scribbles for hair—“Daddy”—and in between them stood the smallest figure with “Parker” scrawled above it in shaky letters.

Jiyong chuckled softly. “Wow, Mommy’s so tall!”

“She has to be tall so she can fight all the monsters,” Parker explained matter-of-factly, already flipping to the next picture.

He nestled closer to Jiyong’s side, the warmth of his small body a comforting presence against the cold emptiness in Jiyong’s chest.

“This is Mommy saving us from a big, scary T-rex!” Parker declared, showing a picture of a giant, lopsided dinosaur towering over their stick figure family.

Jiyong widened his eyes in mock horror. “A T-rex?! How did she save us?!”

Parker jumped up, stretching his arms as wide as they could go. “She had a big sword! Like this big!”

Jiyong laughed, the sound raw but genuine. “Wow, that’s a huge sword!”

Parker nodded vigorously, plopping back down beside him. “And this one is Mommy fighting a hundred spiders!”

Jiyong shivered dramatically, clutching Parker close. “Oh no! That’s so scary! Did she win?”

“Yeah!” Parker grinned. “Mommy stomped on them all! She’s super brave!”

“She really is,” Jiyong whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Parker’s head.

Parker continued flipping through his drawings, each one more imaginative than the last—Mommy building the tallest tower, Mommy making the biggest sandwich in the world. Jiyong listened to every word, his heart both aching and swelling with pride.

Finally, Parker held up the last drawing. “And this one… this one’s special.”

Jiyong sat up slightly, peering at the paper. In the bottom corner were two stick figures—one with orange hair and one smaller, labeled “Daddy” and “Parker.” Beside them was a stick figure cat, “Princess Zoa,” lounging lazily. But in the top corner of the page, drawn on a fluffy cloud next to a bright yellow sun, was another figure—“Mommy,” looking down at them with a smile.

“That’s Mommy in Heaven,” Parker said quietly. “She watches over us from there.”

Jiyong couldn’t hold it back anymore. A sob escaped his lips, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to muffle the sound.

Parker’s little hands tugged gently at his father’s wrists, his brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong, Daddy? Didn’t you like my story?”

Jiyong forced himself to breathe, lowering his hands to meet his son’s worried gaze. He cupped Parker’s face gently, his thumbs brushing away the little boy’s confused tears.

“I loved it,” Jiyong whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I loved it so much, buddy.”

Parker studied his father’s face for a moment longer before asking softly, “Do you still miss Mommy?”

Jiyong pulled Parker into his chest, holding him as tightly as he could without hurting him. His lips pressed against the crown of Parker’s head as he whispered, “I’ll always miss her, baby. But having you here makes it a little easier.”

Parker’s small arms wrapped around his father’s neck, and for a moment, the crushing weight of grief eased just enough for Jiyong to breathe again.

“I love you, Daddy,” Parker murmured into his chest.

“I love you too, buddy,” Jiyong whispered back, closing his eyes and holding onto his son like he was his lifeline—because, in so many ways, he was.

Jiyong gently tucked Parker into your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to his tiny shoulders with a tenderness that made his heart ache. He turned on Parker’s favorite cartoon—the one with the silly talking animals that always made him giggle. The soft glow of the screen bathed the room in a warm, flickering light, but Jiyong barely noticed. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing Parker’s hair back from his forehead, feeling the weight of the world pressing against his chest.

It only took about twenty minutes before Parker’s breathing slowed, his small frame rising and falling in a steady rhythm as soft snores filled the room. Jiyong lingered for a moment longer, his eyes tracing the curve of his son’s cheek, the gentle pout of his lips. There was so much of you in him—your eyes, your smile, even the little wrinkle between his brows when he was deep in thought. It was beautiful and unbearable all at once. Parker was the last piece of you he had left, and he clung to that with everything he had.

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, his movements slow and deliberate to avoid waking Parker. The house felt too quiet as he descended the stairs, each creak of the wood beneath his feet echoing in the emptiness. He made his way to the kitchen, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the bottle of whiskey. The amber liquid sloshed into the glass, and he took a long, burning sip before setting it down on the table.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the glass, at the reflection of his hollow eyes in its surface. Then the weight of it all hit him like a freight train. His knees buckled, and he leaned over the table, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The grief was a living, breathing thing, wrapping around his chest, squeezing until he could hardly breathe.

With a trembling hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out your ring—the beautiful diamond he’d spent weeks perfecting with the jewelers, wanting it to be just right for you. He remembered the way it sparkled on your finger, how you’d admire it with that radiant smile of yours, teasing him for being such a perfectionist. Now, it was cold and lifeless in his palm, a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost.

“God, I miss you...” he whispered, his voice breaking as he twirled the ring between his fingers. The silence that followed felt deafening, a void he couldn’t escape.

He downed the rest of his whiskey in one gulp, the burn doing little to numb the pain. He poured himself another, and another, each glass blurring the edges of his sorrow but never quite dulling it. Six years ago today, he’d watched you walk down the aisle in that breathtaking dress, your eyes shining with love and promise. It had been the best day of his life. Now, it felt like a lifetime ago, a memory fading at the edges.

His sobs grew louder, echoing through the empty house as he buried his face in his hands. The realization that you were gone—truly gone—hit him over and over, a relentless tide of grief that never subsided. Two years. Two fucking years since he’d lost you, and the pain still felt as fresh as the day you left.

He was a man of science, grounded in logic and facts. But you? You had always believed in magic, in the unseen, in possibilities that defied explanation. He used to laugh at your silly spells, your whispered incantations in the attic. But now? Now he’d give anything to believe. To have even a sliver of hope that he could see you again.

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks—that one relic you’d been so protective of, the little black box you’d spent hours with in the attic, speaking softly to it as if it could hear you. He’d teased you about it back then, but now, desperation clawed at his heart. Maybe you weren’t talking to yourself after all.

With a newfound urgency, he finished his drink and stumbled up to the attic. The space was cluttered with boxes, dusty and forgotten, each one a time capsule of your life together. His heart pounded in his chest as he sifted through them, tossing aside old memories in his frantic search. Finally, he found it—the little black box, tucked away in a dark corner, hidden as if protecting its secrets.

His hands shook as he picked it up, the weight of it heavier than he remembered. He didn’t have the courage to open it yet. Instead, he clutched it to his chest and raced back downstairs, pausing briefly to check on Parker. His son was still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of his father’s unraveling.

Back in the kitchen, Jiyong poured himself another whiskey, trying to steady his nerves. He placed the box on the table, staring at it like it held the key to everything he’d lost.

“God, Y/N,” he whispered into the stillness. “You better not have been fucking with me.” His voice was hoarse, thick with desperation. He’d try anything at this point.

Taking a deep breath, he carefully removed the lid. Inside sat an intricate hand, carved with strange markings that seemed to pulse under the dim light. He’d never asked how you’d come by it—back then, it had just been another one of your oddities. But now, he prayed with everything in him that it was more than that.

With trembling fingers, he lifted the object out of the box, setting it on the table before him. He read over the simple rules you’d left behind, his heart pounding louder with each word. Pushing the box aside, he grabbed his lighter and lit the candle, the flame flickering like a heartbeat in the dark.

He downed his drink in one swift motion, the fear bubbling in his stomach almost unbearable. He’d never believed in this kind of thing, but grief had a way of making even the most rational man desperate.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the cold, carved hand. He closed his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. “Talk to me.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw it—a faint shadow sitting across from him. His heart lurched in his chest, fear and hope warring within him. But he couldn’t stop now.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he spoke the words you’d written in your neat, familiar handwriting. “Let me in.”

In an instant, the air shifted, the room growing colder. And then… you were there. Your body, your presence, materialized from the shadows, your soft hand slipping into his. His jaw dropped, his breath hitching in his throat as he took in your familiar features, your eyes shimmering with the same love he’d missed so desperately.

A tear slid down his cheek as he took in the sight of you.

And then, in that sweet honey soaked voice he loved so much, you spoke.

“Hi, Ji.”

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[rayesgenesis]

protector — b.f

who? ben florian x daughter of tiana and naveen! reader

summary: you and ben get tired of hiding your relationship

warnings: there might be some spelling mistakes or things like that, english is my third language soo yeah also there’s like one swear word

a/n: i was supposed to post a whole other oneshot but i couldn’t tie it all together to save my life— ANYWAYY reminder that my requests are OPEN 😭 this is just an oldie that’s been sitting in my other acc’s drafts for a while

wc: 2k-ish

you and ben had been successfully dating in secret for a little over four months now, with little people knowing about you two. of course, belle sniffed you both out. turns out, she’s an expert in body language too, amongst other things. when it came to telling adam though, her mouth was sealed shut— per her son’s wish. he didn’t feel like telling his dad just yet.

your boyfriend made sure to make his intentions clear with you from the start. his only desire was to be with you, whatever form that took. needless to say, it didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to keep your relationship a secret.

and you would have to squeeze it out of him— he would never admit it to you — but the idea pained him at times. he didn’t really like secrets. especially when it came to you, how could he keep you a secret?

still, sneaking around was fun. at least for you it was. the secret handholding, the foot nudges under tables, the secret makeout sessions in secret spots.. feelings of being limited on time aside, you liked it. though, after a while, it started to feel like you focused more on convincing yourself that stolen moments tasted better. and as time went on, ben noticed how you kept finding ways to make your situation enjoyable.

as if it was perfectly sustainable in the long run. as if you were forcing yourself to.

ben, on the other hand, found that it got old quick. he wanted the world to know that you were his, and he, yours. he kept going for your sake, but ben couldn’t wait to show you off any chance he’d get. in his opinion, you deserved nothing less. remind him why you had to keep it a secret again?

i mean sure, when you suggested that the two of you should date in secret, you mentioned how you were scared of your parents’ disapproval. not because they wouldn’t like him, who wouldn’t, but because they were cautious about bringing attention to their kingdom.

your parents and grandparents were careful to not ruff anyone’s feathers. a quality that naveen slowly acquired with age, even though there was always the occasional mishap. it was something that his parents lectured you about multiple times, not that you needed it. you understood how hard it was already, being one of the most recently established royal houses in auradon. they had enough drama when your daddy was prince.

if anything, you couldn’t blame ben for not being understanding about this. except now, even you had to admit that it got old. you would’ve told everyone all about the two of you by now, if it wasn’t for you lying to your parents for the past two months.

because yes, you and ben spent most of your summer together almost secretly. it was definitely hard to explain to your parents how come you went from basically being a homebody to going off to all types of places every other day, but they didn’t do much complaining in the end. you were almost eighteen, it was time you had some off-duty fun. either way they trusted you.

key word, trust.

somehow you blinked and summer was already over, which was the most freedom you had felt in months. as if you had finally gotten your head out of the water after so much time spent under it. while being careful, you both had found a way to enjoy yourselves. you could breathe again. guess you hadn’t even noticed how exhausting it felt to keep the secret up.

when the school year started though, you felt that the 'going back to normal' process was harder on you than you had expected. you started feeling suffocated all over again except you really felt it now that the excitement from sneaking around had gone over.

this probably would’ve been easier if you were with a guy that you liked half as much, you often thought. but this is ben we’re talking about. he constantly fulfilled every expectation you had and more. besides, he was so nice about the whole secret thing. you were pretty sure the boy would fold backwards if you asked him to.

it goes without saying that the opportunities for you and ben to hangout outside of school became rare, so you jumped on any and every excuse to spend some time together. hence the three lunchbreaks you had, this week, in the peaceful haven that was his office. which, looking back on it, might be a bit excessive — given what each of your schedules allowed. at least it helped the two of you keep your hands off of eachother in public.

either way, your time with ben was limited, and you were going to make the most of it.

for this third lunchdate, your boyfriend managed to get meals prepared for the both of you, instead of the burgers you were starting to get used to. it was a sweet gesture which you appreciated and you made sure to tell him all throughout your time together.

when you both had finished eating what was on your plates, you helped him clean around and place the plates back on the cart they came in. laid back, you were perched on the edge of the desk watching ben clean the last plate remaining, with a slight smile on your face.

after ben came back from washing his hands, he made his way over to you.

"come here, i feel like i haven't seen you in forever." he murmured, his voice a low whine. his arms snaked around your waist, as a way to bring you closer. you chuckled.

"ben, we just spent a whole hour together." you looked up at him, amused. your hands found their way on his shoulders. that boy didn’t have a serious bone in his body, you thought.

"not enough." he groaned, tightening his arms around your waist. you started to make some space in between your legs for him to stand in. then, you noticed ben becoming serious. his breathing slowed down. he felt like he was slowly boiling up inside and yet, could blow over any minute now.

"look," he began, all the while tracing small circles on your sides. he was anxious about having this conversation with you. "i’ve had a really hard time hiding us lately", he admitted.

you took a deep breath and your eyebrows slightly shot up. ben took it as a sign to continue.

"what if we stopped hiding? i’m tired of avoiding everyone's questions and trying to come up with excuses to spend more time with you." he looked in between your eyes. "i want to be able to call you my girlfriend in front of everyone. and to kiss you whenever i want, without having to hide away in here." his eyes were fixed on you, observing your facial features.

you sighed and suddenly you couldn’t look ben in the eye. you had been thinking about it a lot lately and the fact that he had to bring it up, told you something needed to change. problem was, you were torn between finally giving in or keeping up with the lie still which, clearly made you miserable. the more you thought about it, the more your chest tightened. you took another deep breath and closed your eyes, your head a bit more lowered.

"i’m tired of it too, believe me ben. now more than ever." you chuckled lightly but there was a strain to your voice, a sign that you had indeed been suffering as well. "but my parents…" your voice came out as a whine, not that you meant it to.

was it your parents? or rather the fact that you got caught up in a lie you can’t seem to get out of? because now you had to tell them the truth about why you were having so much fun all summer. and that was terrifying. besides, you could already hear them: it’s that auradon kid that got you lying to us like that? with beast’s son? sweetie, why? she’s not seeing him again- you’re not seeing him again. tell him whatever you got going on stops now.

they could force you to stop seeing him. they wouldn’t do that. they wouldn’t, right? after a prolonged lie like that, it’s the only way your mind could imagine how they’d react.

ben cut you off in your internal spiral, "i know, i know." he was well aware of how you felt about your parent’s reaction. but still, he couldn’t help but feel like you shouldn’t give up so easily. you had to try. because for him, this was torture.

the brunette searched for your gaze and when he found he had no success, he took a deep breath of his own. his hand came to rest on your forearm and he gently began to trace small circles on it with his tumb. "but, don’t you think it’s time?"

with this, you lifted your head up to look at him. you had to admit that he was right. it wasn’t fair to him and the situation was clearly taking a toll on you too. clearly, not telling your parents about dating ben wasn’t worth the trouble you went through anymore.

what cut through the silence was the piercing sound of the bell. you groaned, and both of your hands left your boyfriend’s shoulders to cover up your face as you thought about how stupid all of it was. it’s not like you were doing anything wrong. fuck all of this.

you let out a dry laugh, out of frustration, and ben looked at you with some surprise. it was sudden.

"ughhh", you shook your head still in your hands, "this is- you’re right. it is time, i don’t know what took me so long to realize that." ben removed your hands from your face to hold them in his. you looked in his eyes, a vibrant oak color. like one that would’ve been left in the sun for a minute too long. a smile spread across his face.

"hey," he added softly, "i’m right here with you. i know, it’s scary but we’ll get through this. together." he squeezed your hands, as a way to back up what he was saying. "we’ll talk to them together and, i’ll be here to defend us with you. you don’t have to worry."

you snorted softly. "you don’t need to protect me"

"i want to." he stated positively.

a soft smile appeared on your own face. you found it cute how ben got protective over you. turns out, he wasn’t much different from your parents. the thought made you smile. all of a sudden in a hurry, you picked up your bag and lunged for the door in a couple swift movements without telling him. you needed a break from the seriousness this conversation brought. besides, ben was starting to get used to your antics.

you were already out the door and in the hallway when ben held you back by the wrist.

"hey," he giggled as he closed his office’s door, "where do you think you’re going?" he was surprised at how quickly you ran out of his office.

"you didn’t hear the bell ring? we’re going to be late for first period, ben." ben chuckled again. you acted oblivious on purpose and he could tell.

"no i know, but you could at least kiss me goodbye." his hand slowly slid up your arm as he got closer.

"not in the hallway, people could walk by-"

"i don’t care" ben simply replied before he brought your lips to his. you initially gasped then relaxed into the kiss, and ben kept a hand over your curls to bring you closer, and another on your waist.

he barely even checked to see if there was anyone around you this time. your chest warmed up all over again when you thought about it later on.

a/n #2: i forgot who wanted to be tagged when this came out i’m sorry 🫣

[shun-ie]

₍⁠₍⁠ ⁠◝ the past, the present, and the future (rhys larsen)

content : longest fanfic yet, rhys larsen, differentpath!au, amab!reader, slowburn, sexual awakening?, strangers to acquaintances to friends to lovers, mentions of trauma/ptsd, healing the inner child, ooc-ish rhys, unprotected sex, slight mention of fingering, bttm!malereader, ceo!reader, mentions of kinks, lmk if i missed anything :))

shun-note : rhys larsen is not my oc. he belongs to ana huang, the author of twisted games. i also noticed that there weren't a lot of twisted series fics (or there's none at all), so i made one. missing some details, but i wanted to post this already so it doesn't rot in my drafts lol

[not proofread]

m.list !

cold hearted. that's what rhys larsen first thought of y/n l/n, the ceo of l/n conglomerate. after being the bodyguard for bridget von ascheberg, the crown princess of eldorra, he took up another commission to drown away the ache that was left when he parted from the woman he spent his two years protecting.

y/n l/n was vastly different from any of those rhys had guarded in the past.

y/n put his work first. sleep? he'd sign and read through papers until he collapsed and died. eat? he'd starve just to entertain the board of his company. he did however, keep a strict hygiene and exercise routine. in those two months with y/n, he never once saw the frown leave his lips. it was like it was permanently scarred on his face. the total opposite of bridget.

rhys was offered the job just after he freshly resigned from his post. he was reluctant to accept the commission, but accepted once he found out it was a man he would be guarding this time. he did all the background checks, read y/n's information, did security protocols, just like any other clients he had previously.

and as he trailed behind the ceo, who parted the crowd of paparazzi and 'fans' like the red sea, he was brought back to the moment when he first met the indifferent man in front of him.

"this is sir y/n l/n. lately, he's being harassed by paparazzi. he has been followed home seven times in the past month . . . ambush interviews . . . and he can't eat in restaurants anymore," the secretary listed as she spoke to rhys via request of y/n's father who took care of affairs in china. "he normally does things alone without bodyguards, but this time people have gone too far," she further explains, pushing an open folder with photos taken by the paparazzi.

they consisted of y/n sitting in a booth at a restaurant, entering sister company buildings, walking through the park, and even leaving his car as he approached his house. it was never this bad with bridget.

as he examined the photos, alongside the blueprints of y/n's house and the company headquarters he requested beforehand, the secretary says something that catches his attention.

"sir l/n doesn't talk much. so don't feel hurt if he gives you the cold shoulder when you guys meet," hurt? hilarious. i don't even know him well enough to be hurt. "-he most likely will ignore you." arrogant? stuck up?

it was then when he met y/n l/n that there was something else. from the way the ceo's eyebrows furrowed, stress shadowing his tense but elegant form, as he scanned the papers in his hand, a cup of something in his other.

"miss clarke, i have another meeting with missus barett on wednesday at seven pm. add that to my schedule. and move my call with mister harris around nine pm after the meeting." he then stopped in his tracks, taking notice of the other presence in the room. he blinks, eyeing the large man sitting in front of his secretary. long hair, broad muscular frame, gunmetal eyes, and a scar slashing through his left eyebrow. he wore all black. "you must be the bodyguard my father hired. rhys larsen, correct me if i am wrong."

y/n's voice was full on business, leaving no trace of any other emotions other than serious and commanding. words rolled out of his mouth like smooth silk and his earlier strides could rival fairies that pranced around gracefully as they took flight.

"yes and if i may, i'll be looking around the building for any security measures," rhys got straight to the point. there was no point dancing around the issue. no point in introductions, they knew each other well enough. it was obvious. his indifference masked the slight curiosity that sparked as he watched y/n disappear into his office, where he caught a glimpse of neatly stacked paperwork and the large window that overlooked the city from above.

even as he drove away from the airport, he knew nothing about the man he's protecting. unlike bridget who he had arguments and decent conversations with, y/n only gave him one or two word responses before silence loomed over them like a cloud everyday for the two months they were together. the basic information about the ceo was nothing compared to the behavior, habits, likes, and dislikes of the crown princess.

he took casual glances from his rear view mirror, observing as y/n scrolled through his hundreds of emails, noting down important information on his pocket journal.

rhys has never seen y/n stop working.

"you're ruining yourself." it was just a thought, he never intended for it to slip. he curses in his mind.

y/n hums, never looking up from what he was doing. "why is that?" he knew exactly why, but he chose to ignore it. he wore himself down most of the time, all the time. he never intended to stop, but the words rang clearly in his mind. you're ruining yourself.

"it just looks like you're burning both ends of a candle, trying to manage yourself and work," rhys focused on the road, "but you can't."

y/n has never disobeyed his instructions which he was thankful for as it made everything easier. he never really did go out as much as bridget did. even then, scheduled events and meetings were always smooth as rhys had planned it to be.

y/n wasn't as hard headed, outgoing, and filled with fire. not like bridget. rhys didn't even know why he was comparing two polar opposites. but being with him, he thought of the crown princess in eldorra who offered him extension of his contract, which he refused. and now he's here.

"i work . . . because it distracts me from my reality."

y/n has never talked about why he does what he does. it felt right in the moment. rhys has never pried answers out of him, partially because he didn't converse with him, however his eyes told him so. those stormy grey eyes that showed nothing but genuine curiosity even though he tried to hide it.

rhys didn't know what to think as they reached the end of the highway. two months and y/n finally spoke a full sentence. rapport was a card he had set to the side because of their circumstances, now he might as well consider putting it back on the table. he saw y/n put his work down, temporarily ceasing his work which were probably with a month or two deadline, and relax against the seat.

"i hate thinking of other things, other people," y/n lets out an empty chuckle, finding rhys' eyes through the rear view mirror, "isn't that why you took the commission to bodyguard me? to forget about the previous client you protected? we're a bit alike, you and i. we do things that would take our minds off things."

it felt like a bucket of ice cold water washed over rhys as he heard those words. we do things that would take our minds off things. his grip tightened on the steering wheel, gazing away from those sad e/c eyes that ingrained themselves in his memory. he never thought his longest interaction with his client would be so depressing, yet eye opening. he knew of three things.

one. he is trying to take his mind off of someone.

two. y/n works to take his mind off of something or someone.

and three. y/n wasn't cold hearted. only seemed like it.

rhys stood at the sidelines, alert and ready. his eyes wandered around the event, as if looking for any threats that would suddenly appear out of nowhere. he then dragged his gaze towards his client, who was in the middle of a group of other businessmen and women. he shared a tight and practiced smile, trying to act polite and respectful as the night dragged on.

y/n wore a tailored suit, it was simple yet elegant. his hair was slicked back, lips full and glossy from constantly licking it as he swirled the wine in his glass. he was total perfection. a face that would leave anyone in ruins. but rhys caught the slight tremble of his hand and his eyes flashing to different places, as he squeezed out of the group that huddled around him. it looked as if he was panicking, though he regained himself when he knocked back the wine. rhys almost left his spot if it weren't for the pointed and reassuring look y/n shot his direction.

it was four months after that conversation. their relationship was less tense and less quiet. y/n now regularly held conversation with rhys, getting his opinions on philosophical and theoretical things. sometimes they spoke about the geographical locations where the company could build a new branch of resort. it never trespassed the gates of personal life.

when rhys asked about something he did for himself, y/n blanked him and changed the topic.

"since you're working because of something or someone, what do you do for yourself?" it was a question that he came up with as they got deeper into the conversation about places that could potentially become a tourist spot. rhys didn't always like talking because it included emotions, but with y/n it felt natural. it was during these one on ones that he caught glimpses and pieces of the person behind the cold ceo exterior.

y/n blinked, turning away and opening another topic about attractions. "what about a butterfly house . . ." rhys sighed through his nose quietly. during the first day he said that he doesn't become included in his clients' lives and that he wasn't there to be a friend, confidant, or anything else. but looking at how y/n tensed when he even hears the words family and yourself . . .

rhys knew y/n at least needed a someone. we're a bit alike, you and i.

it didn't take long for him to notice the signs of ptsd. the way y/n only spoke about his father, excluding his mother in conversations. avoiding places that had closets that contained cleaning supplies or were used for storage of documents. there were also times rhys heard shuffling in the kitchen way past midnight even when they got home around ten or eleven in the evening.

as much as rhys tried to ignore the sense of care, not wanting things to repeat, he couldn't help but feel a bit of fear that y/n wouldn't come out of hi bedroom. would he fail to protect him because of how he lived outside and inside work? terror flashed through him as he thought about it. he's working too much, he'll kill himself before he could even reach forty.

and as of that moment, his heart thrummed against his rib cage. he screamed profanities in his mind as he lost sight of the client he was supposed to protect. he bulldozed through the people, ignoring their glares and mumbles as his eyes darted around for y/n.

there was another thing he feared. repetition of the past.

being with bridget for over two years changed a lot of things for him. never has he breached the contract rules until her. he's hasn't felt anything like it until her. he prayed to the gods that she would be the last. hopefully.

as he rounded a corner, he caught sight of a silhouette through a slightly ajar door. he pushed it open and found y/n sitting on the middle of the floor of the empty ballroom. intricate designs decorated the walls and ceiling, pieces of furniture finishing off the classic look.

"i know that you think of your previous client when you guard me."

it made rhys tense at the door. in all the years of his life, he was the one to read the other, not the other way around. something about y/n challenged him. they were simply a mystery to each other. unlike bridget who knew about his past and him knowing hers, y/n and him knew nothing about each other aside from the basics.

"when i look at you . . . it looks like it pains you to be guarding me. you think you're good at hiding it, but you're really not," y/n droned out, looking at the night sky through the windows. "during the first two weeks, i noticed some habits you retained from your commission before this one. it seems to me there was more to this certain client, that's why you took on the job of protecting me. something must have happened."

rhys stiffened ever so slightly, feeling a spike of both irritation and astonishment. he didn't like this. but at the same time, he also felt a bit of relief that someone knew. he couldn't lie about anything. something did happen with bridget, but he had hardened his heart, ignoring the twisting ache when he left. he left her when he was claiming her in his mind.

"you should think of resigning as my bodyguard," y/n gets up from the floor, patting down his suit and fixing his collar and cuffs, "i think you should go back to your previous client. i can find another bodyguard."

rhys immediately closed their distance in five strides. he's six inches taller and towers over y/n easily with his broad and muscular figure. his eyes doesn't shy away from the heated connection of misunderstandings and mystery that brewed between them in a steady pace for the past six months and threatened to explode like a nuke. "i wanted to be your bodyguard. a client from before doesn't change anything. it shouldn't. protecting you is number one priority." his words were like knives slicing into the tense atmosphere. he didn't want his client doubting him.

silence hung heavy over them, both of them not once backing away from the fiery eye contact. rhys was right, despite his relationship with bridget, that doesn't deter him from doing his job. his job is solely focused on his current client. to protect y/n l/n.

"mister rhys, you truly do surprise me." y/n turns away from his bodyguard and brushes past him, feeling a tug at his heart. he places a hand on his chest, he clenches it and lets it drop back to his side. "i'm exhausted. let me just bid my farewells, then we can leave this godforsaken event."

rhys stared at the back of y/n as they headed back to the garden. the faux personality that he reserved for the attendees returned, treating the man he just spoke to in the ballroom as nothing but another him. no, he didn't have a personality disorder, that's for sure. he just likes hiding behind masks. he definitely fits the role of a ceo.

a year passed. rhys continued his job as the ceo's bodyguard. he really fit the role. during the first week, he memorized y/n's schedule, plans, and the blueprints of the headquarters and estate. the following months, less paparazzi flocked y/n and there were occasional attempted assaults (which was new). he was completely amazing.

y/n watched the man he had been with for one year and a half. since that night during the garden event, a lot of things have shifted. their once debatable and business talks transformed a bit more personal varying from favorites and elaborated opinions on preferences. there were times they strayed away from one topic to another as he signed papers and went over some of them. it took away the ache of loneliness he felt over the years he took his place as ceo.

where his company would be the words he read and the calls he took and the coffee curbed his exhaustion he can never get rid off, he felt lighter than he did before rhys became his bodyguard.

rhys sat on the couch flushed against the trimmed walls of the office, furnished with bookshelves, a glass coffee table, and small trinkets here and there. he could feel y/n's eye drilling holes into the side of his head. he gave him a glance only to see the man turn to his papers, pretending to digest the words printed on them.

y/n had him sit on the couch, getting a slight headache from seeing and hearing him standing at the door and occasionally walking around. rhys found it amusing how the cold hearted ceo felt emotions such as frustration and glints of sadness when the world saw him as someone who used people for his gain and didn't feel a drop of guilt.

throughout the year, he got to know a lot of things about y/n. he loved reading, not his paperwork but novels. he spotted some books laying around but didn't question them and instead, skimmed through the pages. he specifically liked crime and fantasy. he also liked jazz. there was a shelf of cassettes and vinyl records near the fireplace.

"what happened between you and your previous client?" the question brought rhys' attention to y/n again. this one was very personal. were they close enough to even talk about it? he did say that what happened in costa rica stayed in costa rica.

rhys sat back, pondering before concluding. "if i were to answer that, you have to give me something of equal value," the idea of exchanged caught y/n by surprise. interest flickers through his eyes as amusement showed on his face.

"are you bargaining?"

rhys laughs lightly, the sound squeezing at the ceo's heart. "it's business."

y/n reached for his chest as he gulped. he brushed the feeling off and nods, "i like that. let's talk business then." a devilish and heart stopping smirk lifted the corners of rhys' mouth.

"i noticed on the blueprints that you don't have any room that's as small as a pantry. even your walk in closet is as big as your bedroom. why is that?" rhys had an inkling, an assumption, but he wanted it to come out of y/n's lips. he saw his client huff a breath, a thought crossing his mind, before slumping, regal self gone.

"i have ptsd. it was from my mother. when i was younger, she had this twisted sense of duty. she packed my schedule with a lot of lessons. mostly languages and subjects related to business. if i have a low score, she'd lock me in my room for a few hours. if i failed, she'd lock me in a closet. to distract myself, i indulged in hobbies and other things. she found out and locked me in for i don't know long. all i know is i was hungry and thirsty. it didn't take long for my father to find me, he had just come home from a business trip. the house was a mess after that," his voice wavered slightly, but regained its steadiness as he thought about his father. no amount of therapy sessions cured his fear of enclosed spaces.

when he tried to overcome it once, his lungs constricted, he felt nausea and sweaty, he couldn't think at all. he felt so helpless.

y/n was silent for a while before shaking his head, trying to rid of himself of the resurfaced memories. one he tried to forget but couldn't. not when they lingered in the back of his mind. if he couldn't get over his fears, then he couldn't get over his past. so he'd ignore it as long as possible.

"we're alike, you and i." rhys reused the words y/n had told him a year ago, this time removing the words a bit. and true to the bargain, he told him all about bridget von ascheberg. as soon as he mentioned her name, recognition flooded through y/n's eyes. he listened attentively, nodding and humming here and there. (read twisted games for better understanding) understanding settled in the air. comfortable silence followed soon after, both returning to what they were doing before their heart to heart.

rhys gazed at the man sitting at the desk. in a timespan shorter than his time with bridget, he and y/n knew each other in a deeper level. maybe it's because they were both men? or was it because the silence and waiting for the starting few months pushed everything into place? maybe it's because y/n took his time being comfortable first before conversing? he didn't know, there were a lot of possibilities.

he was certain of one thing. there was more to y/n's story.

three months passed. aside from the company parties, meetings, and alumni event, everything was smooth sailing for y/n. he did receive death threats once or twice, but it was all sorted out by rhys who stuck to him like glue. he either trailed behind him like a scary dog or stood beside him when having idle chats with other people.

they started eating at the table together, as y/n's father demanded one day during one of his visits and berated his son for not asking rhys any sooner. the latter has become less alert when they were in a room alone together, not like before where he would pace at times. now he sat reading or sketching, occasionally focusing as if listening or looking for something.

it was the first time rhys saw y/n in casual wear. jeans, shirt, and a jacket. his father had told him to go have fun for one day, then he could go back to working until the day he dies. so there they were, at an amusement park.

a sparkle of childish curiosity passed through y/n's mind as his eyes went from one ride to another. its been a decade since the last time he had fun. the thought twisted at his heart. where everyone enjoyed normality, he couldn't. fun time was a luxury for him when he was around ten to fifteen. he had to work hard for it, but it was only brief. how he wished to experience it all.

"is it your first time in an amusement park?" rhys stood beside him, still in all black, though his outfit was a bit more laidback. he stood tall, oozing with a sense of responsibility. he received a mute nod.

the longer y/n looked around, the more he felt overwhelmed. his lips quivered as he swallowed hard. sadness embraced him. the heaviness of the situation weighed on him. all those stolen childhood days could've been spent being reckless and facing the consequences later, having fun, making friends, and exploring life. "i never thought i'd see a rollercoaster in real life."

rhys followed y/n around. those books that laid around the house held utmost significance. they were worlds that he could imagine himself in, leaving the reality that was set in stone by his mother. universes where he could be the main character of the story, even if it's just for a little while. he felt the sliver of happiness his mother depraved him of.

they walked around the park buying souvenirs and trying out food. they went on the dropper and dropper. y/n looked at the cars of the ferris wheel and refused to get on even when rhys mentioned that the view was nice at the very top. for their last stop, they decided on the haunted mansion. it was the main attraction.

as they entered the mansion, they were covered in darkness. there were dim lights that led the way. there were many twists and at one of the turns, rhys and y/n got separated. the latter looked around in wonder, a burst of excitement guiding him through the maze of halls. the cold hearted man was hidden away in the suit of the ceo, in casual clothes he was just y/n.

just as he was about to run off somewhere, he was shoved against the wall and locked in someplace dark. he furrowed his eyebrows and took a step only to realize there was limited space. his eyes widened as he tried to move, feeling around only to find to familiar structure of two closet doors trapping him.

"hello!?" he tried to open the door only to find out it's been wedged closed by an overturned chair. he slams his palms against the wood, sweat rolling down his forehead, suddenly feeling hot. "let me out!"

his hands slid against the frame, pressing himself against the wall of the closet as if trying to make more space. he hears his pulse in his ears, eyes darting around frantically trying to find some sort of light in the blinding darkness. he feels oxygen leave his lips in pants, he's light headed. "please . . ."

he slides down the wall as the tears of the past come rushing to the present. tears slide down his cheeks as he becomes the helpless child he once was. "please . . . i'm sorry" he wheezes out, his mind flashing back to the old closet in their old estate.

cool air brushed against his sweaty forehead and he's pulled out of the closet and into a set of arms. "l/n? l/n, stay with me." rhys pats y/n's cheek, trying to wake him up from his episode. tears kept pouring as he muttered nonsense. his heart was racing too fast. "why the fuck did you lock him in a closet!?" he barked at the actors, who flinched back from the scalding tone.

"it's part of the experience. it was supposed to be for two minutes," the manager calmly de-escalated the situation.

rhys scowled, supporting y/n who was out of it. "take it out of the fucking experience." he hears the disoriented man mumble something before taking him someplace else where they could have a bit of privacy.

"thank you . . ." y/n stared blankly at the people walking by. he was sitting on a bench. he didn't know what to say. the last time he had an episode was when he tried to overcome his ptsd six years back. it didn't work, instead he had a similar experience but a tad worse.

rhys stood before him, blocking him from the nosy people who tried to peer. his arms were crossed, flexing as the irritation from earlier slowly faded. they were separated by two actors. he was forced into a pit of fake bones and when he was out he was faced with a serious situation. y/n's ptsd episode.

"it's my job."

y/n sighed, shoulders slumping. even on the one day where everything should be normal, it still turned out to be another traumatic day. the child that hid in the mansion of his mind always found his way out, replacing his current with the past. he hated how he couldn't even overcome being in a closet for five fucking minutes.

"no it's not. your job is to protect me from physical harm. but as of this moment, you eased my emotional harm. for that, i thank you," he raised his head and gave him a small smile. it felt foreign, but it felt right in the moment.

rhys' breath hitched. that damned smile that y/n gave. it was unexpected from someone who was frowning everyday. he felt that familiar tug on his heart. one he didn't want to feel, but couldn't kill. y/n looked gorgeous being showered in the golden sunset.

that smile . . . it looked good on him.

another year had gone by. a lot had changed since that day at the amusement park. almost three years, a lot of things changed.

y/n was a bit more expressive with emotions, only with rhys and his father however. he slowly started easing off his work and had rest days. despite having said days, he still could only get in, two at maximum, hours of sleep. he was eating more. rhys was there through everything. another constant in his life.

"i was thinking of a beach resort in areas where resorts aren't that popular," the chief marketing officer proposed, standing confidently in front of the board officers. y/n sat at the head of the long table reading through the hard copy of the presentation. rhys stood to his side like a hawk. since that day in the amusement park, he didn't want another shove incident, even though there weren't any closets nearby.

y/n flipped through the papers once again and sighed, "our company shouldn't only be resorts. i need a proposition that steers away from the word resort. we can't market that forever." he moved his head from side to side and sighed as he felt that satisfying pop. he's been sitting listening to propositions for an hour and a half. his ass felt numb. "everyone, let's take ten."

as people filed out the room, y/n flipped through the rest of the propositions with a groan. it was so deep and stressed, it was attractive. rhys felt his cock stir with interest as he eyed the serious ceo.

he's been having urges. that tousled hair of y/n, he just wants to run his fingers through them and tug them back. those tense shoulders, he could fuck the stress out of him by bending him over the table.

rhys shook his head and cleared his mind. during the past year, he has been curious about sexuality. normally he didn't care, however now that he's feeling something for the same sex, he's been doing some research. it started off small, from bits of information and opinions of other people in the community until he got too deep and even discovered pornographic videos.

it would be a lie if he denied watching some videos, but it was for research purposes. all his life, he had always been interested in women, but since he met y/n, he has been questioning a lot of things in life. he wants it to stop. he had to remind himself that things from the past should never repeat.

as rhys had an inner conflict, y/n had his own as well. he tried to distract himself from the masculine presence behind him, acting as if he was going through the papers. it was half true, he was trying to ignore the glimpses of moments that flashed through his mind of these past two months where he relieved himself at the thought of his own bodyguard. he felt a bit shameful, but it felt so wrong and right at the same time. rhys had been uncovering a past he tried to keep buried. however, it resurfaced every time he saw him.

"you know . . . the reason my . . . mother locked me in the closet . . ." it was a random blurt out, but it was on his mind. rhys showed a sign he was listening. "i danced as a hobby. she didn't like it. she claims its girly. i'm also . . ." y/n trailed off with a thoughtful hum. "i've never really said this to anyone but my mother. i'm also into men." no matter how long its been.

rhys felt his stomach flip. he stared ahead of him, feeling a bit of relief. "good to know."

those three words made y/n's heart flutter. he hid the heat appearing on his cheeks, thankful that his back is turned to the bodyguard that tested and pushed him. but he had to ask, even though deep down he knew the answer, "what does that mean?"

"you have work to do."

three months passed, which makes three years. in those months, y/n came out to his father, who responded with an i suspected that. being the ceo, he was expected to negotiate. he did, though during those meetings, he couldn't avoid proposals like arranged marriage or marriage to merge companies. before he could answer, rhys was already there making his presence known, a frown on his face, scaring away other ceos. it got to the point where y/n only made phone calls for such meet-ups.

to rhys, its been hectic. to resist y/n's bold advances such as sliding a hand against his bicep, sometimes his chest. looking up at him through those lashes with big innocent eyes, even though they're far from it. that cute smile from the amusement park that seemed to be only reserved for him alone. and those sounds he lets out when he's stressed or working.

y/n was driving him insane. forget the contract, they can make a new one where he'd fuck the ceo into submission anytime and anywhere he wanted as long as he stayed his.

rhys knew y/n wanted him. he could tell from his actions and his words with underlying meanings. it was killing him to keep his hands to himself. if he could only reach out, wrap a hand around y/n's neck and kiss him like there's no tomorrow . . .

it was one in the morning, they had just gotten home. in the car, y/n proposed to play a game. two truths and one dare, in which they took turns. as they stepped into the warmth of the mansion, y/n came up with a question for rhys' chosen truth. in all honestly, he just wanted to entertain his client (hopefully to tire him out) so he could turn in for the night before he took him right there on the front door.

"what are your kinks?"

as the game progressed in the car, the questions got more inappropriate, definitely borderline breaching their contract.

"hair pulling . . . bondage you could say . . ." he listed off other kinks, fixing his shoes beside y/n's before entering after him. he could feel himself harden the more the other spoke to him about something sexual, as if interviewing him before having him fuck him senseless.

until that question made his heart stop. "would you kiss me?"

rhys slowly turns to y/n, who was looking at him with mild interest with a mix of arousal. he could feel it from the three feet distance between them. the way y/n's eyes traced his lips, dipping below his chin, and stopping at the bulge straining against the black pants.

y/n was sporting the same in his pants. after he admitted to liking men, it was never the same since then. it would never be the same. not when his heart tugs and flutters because of the man standing in front of him. not when his heart fell hard when he found him in the closet in that haunted house. not when they'd had all these one on one talks. through all he stayed.

"yes. would you like me to kiss you?" rhys returned the question as they neared each other, one foot apart. maybe his feelings started growing the moment the silence turned into small and slow conversations. or that time y/n acknowledged what he truly felt when he left bridget. maybe because they shared some similarities. or is it because y/n relied on him to take away the pain of loneliness of only thinking of the future, not allowing himself to heal from the past and appreciate the present.

"yes."

(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ rhys' pov

with that, i dove down and molded my lips against his. i guided his head, tilting my heard, pushing against him. his pants echoed in my ears, trapping him against the nearest wall, taking his breath away. when he tried to pull away, i chased his lips, claiming them once more.

when i pulled away, he looked awestruck. i kiss him hard. i press our clothes cocks together and i feel him hump against me, my hands caress down his body and kneads on his cheeks. grunts pour into my mouth as our tongues fight for dominance.

his legs hook around my hips and i carry him upstairs into the bedroom i claimed. i drop him onto the bed. "clothes off." i turn to grab lube and condoms in the drawers. when i turn around, my breath is almost caught in my throat.

the curves and groves of his body, the fullness of his skin, and the way it's begging for attention, makes me want to drop everything and just fuck him raw. i am well aware this is my second breach of contract. i had no reason to do this. this would be another hook-up and-

"breach of contract or not. resigning or not. once you fuck me and i like you, i'm yours and you're mine. i swear to fucking god, we're not arguing about it. we'll fuck it out too."

that was enough for me to push him against the mattress. i'm not asking him how he knew what i was thinking because most of the time it's like he could read my mind. but he did say, i wear my thoughts on my face. maybe it was something only he could do.

my thoughts never once wavered even as i scissored my fingers into y/n's hold, my eyes watching every contort of his face, every redness of his skin. the noise that fell like waterfalls from his swollen lips as i pressed against the bundle of nerves while he desperately pushes against my hand. i groan under my breath. it took a lot of self control to not just fuck him stupid and take away his walking ability.

everything in my mind felt silent as i admired the man under me, taking me inch by inch after throwing the condom on the other side of the room claiming to want to feel me fully and be filled with cum. that almost made me lose grip.

as i bottomed out, i almost immediately rutted my hips. it was so hot and i'm being squeezed tight but just right. i almost exploded right then and there. i felt him tighten his legs around my hips, uttering for me to go.

slowly i pulled out and pushed back in with a low groan. it felt good. so good. i started to pick up pace, slamming balls deep eliciting beautiful moans and whimpers that tickled my ears like a melody.

my hand found its place around his neck, pushing him back into the soft cushions. i apply light pressure and he cries out in pleasure.

"you're ge- hah~ getting b-bigger~ hng!~"

i felt his hands rub up and down against the scars on my back before they wounded around my neck, pulling me close. my nose traced his carotid as i planted kisses and nipped at his skin, my thrusts growing harsher and erratic.

i bit hard on his shoulder with a grunt as i felt him clamp around me, making me cum, shooting thick ropes of cum inside him. i felt spurts of warmth between us as y/n flinches and convulses from his high. he breathes heavily, a dopey smile on his face. i press a brief kiss on his lips and pull out. he groans and drapes an arm over his eyes.

"i mean what i said, whether you're my bodyguard or not. i like you and you're mine and i'm yours."

hearing that made my heart feel good. if there was a god out there, thank you lord for giving me a second chance. i laid beside him on my back. we both stare at the ceiling. under all that cold hard shell, he was very different. he warm warm and mellow. i was cold and barren. yet he thawed all that.

"can you i be your boyfriend?" y/n asked, interlacing our fingers together. it's been a long while since i've last been in a relationship. people say it's too late to try at my age. but it doesn't hurt to want and need. i crack a rare smile.

"whatever you want buttercup."

[crow-crystal]

This post(s) is heavily inspired by @rizzanon

It's an au where Reader didn't have an outside support system and instead chose to leave. My first draft of this got deleted, so I had to restart.

PART ONE

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Setting her things aside, she got ready for bed. She'd start planning the rest of her life tomorrow morning. She didn't plan on staying in Gotham after all. Maybe Star City would be nice? Yes, that sounded alright. Getting out of Gotham, finding a place, and learning about herself. She was sure she had more likes than stars and fiction. Maybe she should practice baking more?

□■□■□■□

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PART TWO

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Reader would like to say that she planned this. She did not, in fact, plan this.

She'd finally escaped Gotham! After a bit of thought, she chose New York City. If only because living in an apartment and working from home seemed a bit more plausible there. Plus, she still had to make a life for herself, and many people have done it here. Legally, her 'aunt' worked from home, not her, but still.

Meeting a boy wasn't something she expected. Meeting Diana Prince wasn't expected either. You see, a couple weeks into things, Reader had been going out in hopes of figuring out what she liked. (Who knew making yourself a personality from scratch was so hard?) Making a friend wasn't something she thought she'd be able to manage in all truth. So when she met Conner, it was.. something.

At first, she ran into him at a store, and it turns out the both of them only had a small sense of their own fashion. Reader didn't know why she helped him pick out a few things, but he was struggling, and she knew how it felt. Especially considering she too had spent a couple of hours clothes shopping when she first came to New York. Tortuous as that was. Though, she couldn't help but giggle a bit when he wore a pair of round sunglasses. It looked good on him, if only a little silly to wear sunglasses with the outfit he had on at the time.

It had happened a few more times, meeting him on accident, before they ended up trading numbers. Apparently, he was in NYC for a break from his friends and family. Reader pretended not to notice the way he seemed hesitant on the 'family' part. Conner was nice, and after they both had found that they had the same issue of figuring themselves out. Literally. They quickly got closer. Now, Reader met up with him once a week to chat at some coffee shop that was quickly becoming her favorite.

It was that very same coffee shop that Reader met Ms. Prince. Though, the Amazonian woman preferred to be called Diana. She was... nice? To be honest, the only reason Diana knew Reader existed was due to her helping in some league cases. Not that Bruce would know that. Reader just hoped Diana hadn't noticed the slight panic they'd had when she first sat down next to them at the coffee shop.

Sure, Reader didn't have the best idea about what a normal life should look like, but it seemed like she was getting there. Of course, there was always a small part of her that would never let down its gaurd, but she lived in a house with the Bat's most her life, so she'd let that go. Yet, it was a simple email that seemed to make all that go away. Having been going through her computer on one of her 'self care days' as Cara called them. Cara was a gift, really, Reader still wasn't sure how such a nice person decided to be friends with her. Still, she was her neighbor, and Reader loved liked it when she visited her apartment for a meet-up.

Opening her emails had made her pause, reading through the email she'd been waiting for the past few.. weeks. A lot of time had passed now that she thought of it.

"I promise I won't tell them anything, I don't know why you cut off contact with them, but I hope you're alright. Thank you for telling me -Clark"

It took a moment, but Reader quickly made sure the emails couldn't be traced. A small smile making it's way to her face as she closes her computer. For once she felt.. safe, content. Happy.. Maybe taking Cara up on that girls' night out offer would be nice?

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END?

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I apologize if this isn't the best. I'm not sure if I love this ending, but I can always make more aus if I get the inspiration.

Again, credit to @rizzanon who inspired me for this post!