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merakiui · 7 months

Text

long-distance love.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, phone sex, obsession, power imbalance, kidnapping, implied (cyber)stalking, non-con touching, characters written as 18+ note - sea witch, the magicord mod you've had intimate online relations with, is closer than you thought.

Sea Witch is a busy man.

His weekly schedules are almost always packed to bursting, each event meticulously arranged into open slots as if aiming to form a perfect puzzle. Times never conflict; he’s particular about how he spends his hours, and very rarely does he allow himself a break. It has always been work, work, work. He’s one of the city’s most affluent, eligible bachelors and yet he’s married to his business. Those who lust after him think it’s a wasteful shame. Azul finds it to be a relief far greater than any he’s ever known. He will never compromise the enterprise he’s built from the ground up just because of some flimsy, fickle feelings.

Originally, he had no interest in Magicord, a messaging platform that grants people from all over the world the chance to congregate on specific servers for mutual interests like anime and gaming. He only downloaded it because Idia Shroud, a fellow friend and business partner, lived and breathed the app, his online presence so profound it was almost like a second home. He’d swipe away notifications from his actual messaging app, too busy in a voice call with his group of dungeon raiders to bother answering important calls.

So he resolved to get on Idia’s level in hopes of improving communication. Although Idia’s level, as Azul often noted, was not exactly a place he wanted to be. While Magicord could be used for business purposes, that wasn’t what drew people in. Azul of all people knew very well which target audiences were being reached with apps like Magicord, and he was not one of them.

“To think I’d stoop as low as this,” Azul had once groused over a phone call with Idia, who was giving him quite a lengthy, not-very-needed-but-also-very-much-needed rundown on Magicord’s inner workings. “I hardly have time to play games, let alone socialize on this…app.”

“Aren’t you always going on about how adaptable you are?” Idia sniped back, not in the mood for normie criticism. The sound of clacking keys could be heard on his end. “And you’re the one who asked. Kinda defeats the purpose of learning if you’re just gonna complain.”

Azul rolled his eyes. “I fail to see the logic in downloading another app just to ensure my messages reach you. Honestly, you ought to start checking your email. Or, at the very least, go through your missed call and text logs.”

Alas, Idia had been stubbornly adamant about his preferences and so, much to his displeasure, Azul was forced to undergo something of a Magicord Training Camp until he emerged a pro. And being a pro meant knowing how to navigate his own profile and toggle between that and Idia’s, which was really the only tip he needed because that was all he’d use the app for.

But Azul has always had an innate itch for wanting to know something from top to bottom, inside-out, and the idea of not knowing every little detail about Magicord drove him insane. If there was an opportunity he could capitalize on, why should he risk squandering it with his elementary-level knowledge? So he spent his rare slivers of free time playing around in there, creating a server and wondering who could ever become so attached to an app when the world beyond the screen was filled with just as many, if not more, social encounters.

His introverted side understood the appeal. In fact, he loved the idea of hiding behind a manufactured persona online. He didn’t have to be Azul Ashengrotto on Magicord. Rather, he could rid himself of his dislikable traits and become an entity—an idea or a concept—rather than a flawed man who others might scrutinize ruthlessly.

So he became Sea Witch, and within just a week he’d constructed quite the comfortable server. The invite link was spread throughout the various branches of Mostro. It would provide employees with an online sanctuary, where they could easily connect should doing so in person prove complicated (as had been the case regarding Idia, which was the sole reason he’d even poured so much time into this effort). Most of all, it gave Azul the chance to keep watch from afar, silently sitting in wait and curating a collection of mostly unimportant intel. Mere gossip, if anything.

But gossip is just as good as the next scandal. He likes to be prepared, a razored edge on all sides.

As far as the company was concerned, no one knew who this Sea Witch character was and no one knew who spread the link. And as far as individual employees knew, this was likely just some overworked intern’s labor of love—a well-crafted server intended to function as a digital gathering place for those exhausted after a long day. And that was mostly true, but all of the potential blackmail he could gather, the information he could glean, and even the people he could keep a closer eye on in an online setting—all of that paled in comparison to the real prize he’d attained. This was of great importance. It was something that altered the course of his life, opened his eyes to the brilliant beauty of a first love.

It was there in that undersea-themed haven where he met you, the one who would add flavorful spice to the once bland, boring meal that was his life. And just after a few weeks of simple, cordial conversation, he realized a single taste of your kind companionship wouldn’t be enough to sate him.

Greedy to a fault, Azul wanted you in your entirety.

Which brings him to the present, where he’s currently leaning back into the expensive leather of his driver’s seat. He’s parked on a silent strip of road, in a more residential part of the city. It’s not very busy here, and his windows are tinted to avoid immediate recognition. Rush hour won’t hit until later, and he’s not due for any conferences. He has time. Plenty of it to spare on this little excursion.

“I wanna meet you, Sea Witch,” you admit, nearly whining through the phone. “Where’re you from? Maybe we’re in the same area.”

Azul smiles at your impatience. You just can’t get enough of him, can you?

Every weekend, you hop into a VC with him and chat for hours on end. At first he simply provided a listening ear when you wished to rant through text or call. You’d voice all sorts of complaints. Azul filed them away in the event that they might be useful in the future, initially intending to use such information to ruin you should you prove to be someone worth ruining. But the more he spent listening and scrawling notes on blank paper, the more he realized you were just overworked and struggling financially.

Upon making these connections and learning all sorts of facts from you regarding your life beyond Magicord, he felt compelled to help. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course, ever the benevolent saint. And you weren’t complaining when he offered to pay you for your time. In exchange for two hours of conversation, he’d provide you with the funds you needed to afford your necessities.

Somehow, throughout many months of give and take—with his giving being on the jaw-droppingly exorbitant side, always one to top his own ludicrous generosity—your hours-long conversations would sink beneath the surface of mere companionship. It was one-sided intimacy. Azul was careful with what he shared, building a mostly secretive profile for himself. He didn’t want to risk tarnishing your fondness for Sea Witch by sharing details that felt more like Azul and less like the effortlessly funny, charming, and eloquent Magicord mod you’d originally made contact with.

You didn’t seem to worry about compromising your own privacy, easily divulging a variety of fun tidbits about your life. You’d share the tiniest of details and he’d eat it up every time, hungering for more than just crumbs. That time you sent him a photo of the octopus macarons you’d bought from a local bakery because you were thinking of him? He remembers it well, and he’s constantly reminded of it when you text him about things you did over the weekend or hobbies you basked in. Sending photos of your houseplants, asking him for his opinion on clothes you were hoping to buy (which he was always more than willing to sponsor; all you needed to do was send the link and he’d purchase it), and even trusting him enough to fall asleep in the VC with him (arguably one of his favorite things about your unique relationship).

And he called it unique not because it was a bad sort of strange. Rather, it was unique in the refreshing sense. He’d never had an online friend before, let alone someone who would so willingly and readily indulge him. Granted, this willingness stemmed from the deal he’d cut with you and so you were really only doing these things for your own gain. But then so was he. It was a relationship built upon necessity. You needed money to survive, and he needed you.

So it was okay to fall into sleazy fantasies. It was all an act anyway, and it wasn’t like you judged him or his preferences. At least, not outright. If you did, it was silent. You were considerate and sweet; and you really did consider him a friend. Or so he hoped. If your casual conversations were any proof, it was obvious there was some sort of enjoyment and trust there.

Friendship or something more, he would have you. Whether that meant in the safety of his pocket, enclosed within his mobile phone forever, or in his penthouse, tucked away in his bedroom—he’d have you.

“I’m from a city, yes,” he answers, purposely cryptic.

“Obviously. Come onnn, Witchy. Don’t you wanna meet me, too?”

“I do, and one day we’ll meet. I promise.”

He listens to your irritated groan and his cock twitches in his slacks. Good god, your voice is a blessing—more heavenly than a cherubic choir.

“One day isn’t today, though.”

“Perhaps not.” He speaks to distract you from the rustling fabric of his pressed suit as his hand strays further. He spies his reflection in the rearview mirror, notes the flash in his irises. If only you were here, sitting beside him in the passenger seat. If only he could slide his own seat as far back as it would go, lie still and serene, and let you climb into his lap to spear yourself on his erection. Genuine leather be damned. He wanted your scent, your essence, your everything engraved into the very interior. “Humor me—if we were to meet right now, what would you like to do?”

“Mm, I’d want to get a good look at the man I’ve been talking to for nine months now.”

“Oh, you’ve kept track?”

“You haven’t?” Your laughter is fluffy and light—authentic amusement. “And I’d want to memorize your face so that I’ll never forget it.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because I’m so curious! You know what I look like—”

“Not entirely,” he interjects, sly and silver-tongued. “You’re a portrait half-finished in my mind. Not yet sketched to completion.”

And it’s true. From your shoulders down, you are a faceless beauty. He’s seen you nearly naked and fully clothed, in frills and lace, in latex and ribbons, in satin and chiffon. And yet, for all of the skin you’ve shown, he can’t place a face (or a real name, for that matter) to your body.

“Okay, poet,” you tease, and he’s already palming himself through the fine fabric of his trousers. “But I’ve still never seen an inch of you. You’ve never even sent a dick pic.”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Can I have one now?”

“Nice try.”

“Asshole!” you gripe, clicking your tongue in disappointment. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” he hums, squeezing himself, his breath coming out faint and haggard.

Yeah, he’s the worst. But then you’re the best at eliciting these sorts of reactions from him. The effect you have on him is utterly enthralling. Your ability to reduce him to a pliable puddle in just a few words—a mere few lighthearted, hollow insults—is truly impressive. He’d feel ashamed of himself if it wasn’t so good.

“You’re probably not even that big.”

“Would you like an exact measurement?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to measure it in person? See how many inches I could fit inside. I’ve been practicing with that dildo you sent me—the one shaped like a tentacle,” you purr, frustratingly coy. He wants your sinful lips wrapped around his dick right now—wants to fuck your throat sore and raw. Wants nothing more than to spill heavy and hot on your tongue so you’ll taste him for days. “If we met up, we could make that happen. Sooo, where’s my Sea Witch from? What part of the world?”

“Patience, angelfish.”

Even though he says so, he’s practically vibrating with excitement as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Soon. So soon. Very, very soon.

And then…

He imagines you rolling your eyes with your next words. “Fine, fine. I’ll be patient. But that’s not gonna stop me from fantasizing.”

“Well, what do you think I look like?”

“Now isn’t that a fun question?” You mull it over. He can tell because you mutter a variety of ums and hmms in that soft, sweet voice of yours. “I think you’re tall and you have a handsome face that matches your equally handsome voice.”

“Yeah?” he encourages, undoing the belt, button, and zip on his pants one-handed. “What else?”

Your giggles filter into his ears, seeming closer than they actually are due to the wireless earbuds he’s wearing. “From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have expensive tastes.”

Sitting in his lavish, one-of-a-kind, custom-made sports car, Azul thinks you would be correct.

“I wonder what gave it away…” he drawls, his voice creeping an octave lower.

He places his phone in the cup holder, reaching to open the glove compartment and retrieving a tiny bottle of lube. Squirting a scant amount on his palm, he fishes himself, throbbing and pathetically hard, out of his boxers. His slick hand is a warm, welcome embrace around his silky-smooth shaft. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Mhm, I wonder. It’s not the fact that you told me I should just buy a designer bag for work when I asked for recommendations. And it’s certainly not your ability to get me lots of nice gifts as if it’s nothing. So maybe it’s just your excessive generosity that makes you seem so rich?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Speaking of that, what do you do for a living?”

“Guess.”

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious… Um… Hm. I think you’re a pilot.”

The whiplash that assumption brings is so seismically jarring he thinks he might go flaccid. Gripping himself with renewed vigor, he slides his fist along his length, slow and perfunctory, picturing you under his desk, your mouth open wide to receive him…

“A pilot… Mm, no, not quite.”

“Aw. My second guess was gonna be a contract killer. They make lots of money.”

“You have quite the wild imagination, angelfish. Even if I was one, do you think I’d admit that to you?”

“Maybe,” you tease. He pictures your smirk as it twists your perfect, pretty lips into something wicked. “For the right price, yeah?”

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

Please. Please keep going. Don’t stop talking. I need to hear you, closer, louder, clearer… More.

“What sort of price would I have to pay to get Sea Witch to spill his secrets?” you muse, your voice a tantalizing curl of syllables, but he suspects you already know the answer to your hypothetical. “I can’t offer you money, so you’d have to settle for something a little more…physical.”

He shivers, nodding his agreement even though you can’t see it. “Physical’s good,” he mumbles, foregoing eloquence in favor of filth. “Much better than—mm—than money…”

“Yeah? All right. Let’s see… You’re well-off and you might or might not be a contract killer. Do you wear suits?”

“I do.”

“Ooh, so you’re one of those contract killers.”

Azul can’t help it; he laughs, the sound tumbling out in a breathy gasp. “I prefer looking nice at all times.”

Languidly, his hand continues its idle pumping. He cracks his eyes open to peer at the pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Even if you’re just going to get messy?”

“Explicate the situation that’s leading me to soil my clothes. Details, angelfish.”

“Well, if you’re a killer who wears suits, you wouldn’t like even the smallest stain. It ruins your image, but if it was me…” You pause, probably for effect, and it works. His back arches with anticipation, fingers closing tighter. “You’d make an exception.”

“I would,” he admits far too quickly. “Always.”

“So you really would out yourself as a killer if I spread my legs for you?”

“No, but I’d let you dirty my suits.”

“Good. They’ll look better on the floor anyway.”

His breath hitches. Fuck, your every word is a siren’s song, leading him deeper into mist-clouded waters. He’d keep you pinned on his cock all day if he could. Why should you continue to work your mundane job when you could spend your precious hours with him instead? He’ll be your job. Seven days a week, during each of the breaks he’ll pencil into his schedules, you can visit him and he can empty all of his stress into you. And you’ll take it because you’re such an obedient sweetheart for him, always so ready to please your master.

He prays you can’t hear the salacious squelch of skin on skin as he works himself towards the edge, but a nastier part of him wants you to listen in so you’ll be reminded that this is your fault. No one else can possibly make him this messy. No one else is capable of rendering him a clumsy, lovestruck fool. You’re probably well aware of these facts, having brought him to this same edge numerous times in the past. Sometimes you would reach that tipping point alongside him, your gasps and groans joining his in an obscene duet.

Neither of you decided upon today’s development, but he thinks—knows—you’re intentionally stringing him along. You want this as much as he does.

“So was I right? You’re totally a contract killer?”

“I’m a businessman, angelfish,” he corrects, a silly, drunken smile softening his jaw. You make him feel so stupid, so warm and fond.

“So basically the same thing. Just as ruthless, no?”

“Please, you wound me. I’m always kind.”

“Ah, so there are others who get this treatment? And I thought I was the only one…”

“You are. No one could ever compare to you.”

He intends to tack my love onto the sentence’s end, but he stops himself. You’re not his love. Not really. You’re his angelfish, sure, but that’s different. That’s just a pet name befitting the aquatic theme he masquerades behind. And you’re not really Azul’s. You’re Sea Witch’s.

It’s Sea Witch you know and love. Beyond that, Azul is just Azul. And he’s nothing like the ideal he’s cultivated on Magicord.

He sighs and forces himself out of the turbulent trenches of his withering self-esteem. Now is not the time to contemplate which version of himself you’d be more preferential to.

You’ll have no choice but to love the real him. Soon.

“Really? I feel so special.” Impressed, you whistle and add, “I’ve gotta make you feel special, too.”

“You already have—”

“Not inside the VC. Come on, Sea Witch, don’t you wanna meet me?”

“I do. I really do,” he babbles dumbly, grinding his thumb into his slit and smearing pre-cum. He grits his teeth and tamps down a colorful word. How he yearns for this to be your hand wrapped around his length, tugging him to that far-off finish line. “I want nothing more than to—t-than to see you, all of you, in person…”

“So what’s stopping you? I could do a lot more in person than I can over the phone.” He has a smart reply for that, but it sticks in his throat. Pitifully, like the rightful debauched mess he is, he groans, low and guttural. “Let me turn the question on you, Sea Witch. If we were to meet today, what would you like to do to me?”

So many things, he thinks, a litany of smutty imagery flickering through his head.

But Sea Witch is classy (most days) and today is one of those instances. Or at least he’s going to make an attempt, however weak it may be.

“Take you to dinner,” he mumbles, executing jerky, quick motions in a daze, his cock weeping for release. He throws his head back, peers up at the interior roof of his car, and inhales sharply. “Take you all over the city if it pleases… I’d spoil you with so much finery—dress you up and then tear every article off…”

“And then?”

“And—god, fuck—wanna be inside you, angelfish… So badly—need you so badly. I wanna feel you and kiss you and hold you.”

He’s unraveling, strings pulled taut and fraying to extremity. Azul bucks into his hand and imagines it’s you, tight and warm, a sweet, snug embrace. He opens and closes his mouth, intending to beg you for more, but all that slips out are the tiniest huffs and grunts. He’s so wrapped up in his own ardor that he almost misses your quiet pants, every breath squeezed out of you as if you’re struggling to withhold your gratuitous moans. And it’s deplorable, really, the way his ears prick at these muffled sounds, the way his cock stands rigidly at attention, the way he’s falling through fragments of filthy fantasies, each one so close and yet impossibly far.

“I want you, too,” you mewl, tone wavering between shameless thrill and some sort of seventh heaven.

He wonders what you’re using to pleasure yourself. Are your fingers, slick and curled, rubbing up against those perfect, pretty spots that have you seeing stars? Or are you using the toys he purchased for your enjoyment? Maybe you’re lowering yourself onto the dildo right now, gummy walls clenching around girthy silicone. And maybe you’re tugging at your nipples, massaging them between the pads of your fingers, or maybe you’ve swapped skin-to-skin for a bullet vibrator instead.

Maybe—just maybe—it’s the mere thought of him that sets your flesh aflame with an intoxicating desire.

“And I want you—” you gasp, and his mind travels to all of the risqué photos you’ve sent, each one saved in a password-protected album on his phone— “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I want you to show me that no one else can compare to you. I want you to—mmh, hah—to hold me down in bed and fuck me until my legs are sore and I can’t walk.”

I will, he thinks, lashes fluttering on his cheekbones. He strokes himself quickly, chest heaving, tongue near-lolling out of his mouth as he pants like a hound in heat. I’ll do all of that and so much more. I’ll fuck every coherent thought out of your pretty head, keep you just smart enough to rely on me, turn you into the prettiest sea flower who’ll only blossom for me.

“I promise, angelfish. I promise I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted,” he vows, his nerves alight with lustful delight, “and you’ll never know misfortune again.”

“I—oh! I’m close, so close! Please, Sea Witch! Please don’t stop. Please fill me up and make me yours!”

The sheer vulgarity twined through amatory vehemence, coupled with his own hurried pace, has him tumbling down the slope, arousal peaking and spilling over in thick, creamy spurts. He has half a mind to catch his spend before it can ruin the pristine interior of his car, and he blinks down at the semen sullying his palm. Idly, he rubs his fingers together to test the viscosity, wondering how his fluids would look on your face, your stomach, your ass—or even pooling out of your hole in plentiful amounts.

That fantasy is enough to send blood rushing right back to his softening cock, and he wills those thoughts away with logic—complex calculations and the financial forecast for Mostro. There will be plenty of time to indulge in sexual cravings later. He reminds himself of this while he tamps down his zeal, his heart relaxing in his ribs as he sits with the slowly ebbing aftershocks of orgasm.

You seem to be doing much the same, for you’ve gone perfectly quiet.

“Everything all right, angelfish?” he whispers after a few minutes, his breath now evened out.

“Mm, yeah. All good over here. Messy, but good.”

“I’m comforted knowing we’re in the same boat.” He chuckles while fumbling to dig a cotton handkerchief from the depths of his suit jacket. He cleans the cum and residual lube from off his hands and dick before neatly tucking himself away. Soon, there will be no need for this charade. Soon, he can adore all of you from beyond the screen. “Angelfish, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“What’s up?” you murmur, your own voice settling into its usual cheery cadence. He suspects you’re just putting on an act to sound happier. That will change when you’re reunited in person because it will be real. Because there will be no point in pretending through the phone.

“Well…” Azul smiles, folds and unfolds the sodden handkerchief, and then straightens his posture. He should be on his way now. “Ah, it’s nothing. Never mind it. I’ll tell you later.”

“Whaaat? But you’ve made me so curious now. Don’t just leave me in suspense!”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to remain in that suspense indefinitely.”

“Ugh. You’re so annoying sometimes.”

He knows you don’t mean that.

“I’ll tell you soon, angelfish. Exercise a little patience. There’s no rush.”

“Easy for you to say. You know what it is.”

“That I do, yes.” He hums, considering his next words. “Would it help if I left you with a word of advice?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.”

“Um. Okay, sure. Hit me. What’s your advice?”

Azul buckles himself in, starting his car via push button. It rumbles to life, smooth and steady. “Don’t fight so much, my dear.”

“Don’t what? Sea Witch, what are you talking—”

Your words are interrupted with a startled yelp. Azul listens to the struggle as if it’s a podcast enjoyed at sunrise. Things are toppled in the chaos; something shatters. He catches the beginnings of a blood-curdling shriek before it’s swiftly silenced. There’s more muffled scuffling before, eventually, absolute peace.

It’s broken by Floyd’s petulant whine. “Maaan, Shrimpy was so difficult. Thought you said they were easy, Azul.”

“Understandably so,” comes Jade’s astute reply. “We did catch them when they were most vulnerable.”

Floyd hums his agreement. “Y’know, Jade, Shrimpy’s kinda cute…”

“They are, aren’t they, Floyd?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, perish it right now,” Azul hisses, features twisting into something dark. “Keep your slimy mitts off of my angelfish.”

There’s an unsettling silence. Azul rolls his eyes. They’re fishing for a reaction he refuses to give.

“Clean up whatever mess you’ve made.” He takes his car out of park and eases into drive. “And don’t let anyone see you. It’ll be a hell of a pain if neighbors make unnecessary reports.”

“Yeah, yeah. Heard ya loud and clear.”

“Very well. Farewell for now.”

The call is cut. Azul grips the steering wheel, smug.

Soon waits for him on the horizon. He will not be a minute late.

You wake on a bed, in a spacious bedroom with exquisite floor-to-ceiling windows, many stories up in the clouds. A brightly lit cityscape sprawls beyond the confines of this room, illuminated with the deceptive shine of promise and success. At first it looks foreign. But then you recognize notable buildings, each standing tall and proud amidst the rest, and it occurs to you that you’re in a stranger’s home, in the heart of the big city.

The room itself is plainly colored; it reminds you of a hotel or a room you might find in a real estate catalogue. Perplexed, you sit up and take pause as your unfamiliar surroundings prove to be more frightful than your own confusion.

Pasted to the walls are various printed screenshots from Magicord, each one detailing a conversation of sorts. You stare at the wall behind you, the one in which the bed is currently pushed against, and peer closer at the contents of these messages.

They’re all from you.

Endearing terms you’ve called him in passing. Gentle insults. Lewd flirts. Vents and rants. Photos you’ve sent of very insignificant things—houseplants, meals, clothes. And then there are the photos of your body in skimpy lingerie and cosplay, all taped to the wall like this is some abstract museum of the digital you. The you who, despite being honest most of the time, took solace in the world of Magicord. The you who’d grown close with the mod from that whimsical ocean-themed server. The you who is now trapped, your ankle enclosed in a cuff. There’s a lead that only allows you to meander into the attached bathroom if you so please, and you suspect it’ll pull taut if you try to leave the room.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, your stomach twisting with disgust.

You look down at your clothes—you’re in someone’s collared shirt, intentionally designed to be oversized so that it drapes like a nightgown—and horror prickles your skin.

And then he arrives.

He’s dressed casually in black slacks and a simple white dress shirt, primly tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You stare for a long moment, studying his features as his familiarity dawns. Your mouth falls open in a muted scream.

He smiles sweetly, stepping further into the amber glow from the bedside lamps. “It’s nice to formally meet you. I’m Sea Witch.”

But that’s not what’s shocking about this. The real shock—the thing that has your brain stumbling in an effort to put the pieces together before the picture can crumble—is far more jarring than the kidnapping and the captivity. You find your voice then, and before you can stop yourself the words are falling out in a hurry.

“CEO Ashengrotto?!”

Sea Witch—CEO Ashengrotto—stiffens, his brows furrowing immediately. He gives you a sharp, dangerous look. A look that seems to radiate one unspoken question: Where did you hear that name?

“You… You’re A-Azul Ashengrotto,” you continue, swallowing thick trepidation. “CEO of Mostro. You opened a new restaurant last year—Crave, right? And the menu features celebrity favorites—celebrities like Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche.”

He laughs his disbelief, carding a hand through soft, silvery locks. “How…do you know this?”

“I work there. You visited once with your secretary for quality checks. We even crossed paths.”

Azul gawks, realizes he’s gawking, and clears his throat. “I… I see. Well.” He inhales, holds his breath for three seconds, and exhales. “This makes things rather…awkward.”

“When you said businessman, I didn’t think… I mean, how was I supposed to know? Your voice sounds so different over call than it does in interviews.”

“Of course it does! I never use the same inflection for those things.”

This cannot be real, you think, watching him flounder anxiously. Azul Ashengrotto is Sea Witch. This whole time… Nine entire months… I was talking to the CEO—to the city’s most popular bachelor—and I didn’t even know it. They write articles about this guy! He’s all over the TV! How did I never realize?

And then a very mortifying thought worms its way in: Oh my God. We both know each other’s preferences. He saw so much of me—more than I’d ever want him to see—and I heard too many private things during our calls…

“Let’s just…” You rub circles into your temples to quell the incoming migraine. “Let’s never talk about this again. You can buy my silence and I’ll move on with my life. I’ll even forget all of…” You glance at the Magicord conversations stuck to the wall and then the chain binding your ankle. “All of this…stuff. We’ll agree to call it a misunderstanding and life will be good, yeah?”

The bargain doesn’t seem to reach him. He continues to stare at you, his eyes glazed with an emotion you can’t place. Whatever it is, it’s stormy and dark. You don’t like it, and you shrink away when he steps closer.

“All this time you were right under my nose…”

Azul climbs onto the bed with you, the mattress depressing under the additional weight. Framed by the hypnotic radiance of the skyscrapers climbing heavenward, he’s certainly earned his place in every celebrity gossip magazine you’ve ever read. Articles debating whether he’s secretly committed to a relationship. Articles theorizing what his life plans may have in store for him. Articles discussing whether he’ll ever get married, if he’ll remain single for the rest of his life, if he’ll ever open his heart to the many people who hope to earn his romantic affections.

No one knows it—how could they when he’s so tight-lipped with the paparazzi?—but you are the secret variable the articles have yet to discover. You are the covert partner, the one who has won his heart, the one who now sits shackled on his bed.

What sort of tabloid journalist could ever spin this story?

You scoot further up the bed, your back pressing against the ornately extravagant headboard. Your knees are pulled into your chest, a futile attempt at protection.

“All this time you were so close to me…” He marvels at this, his baby blue hues locked permanently on you. “And neither of us knew. I could’ve had you much sooner had I just realized…”

You blink at him, your heart sinking with every passing second. “Mr. Ashengrotto, what do you mean by that?”

A pout tugs at perfect, pretty lips. “Why so formal, angelfish? We’re much closer than that, surely.” His hands settle upon your knees, gently pulling them apart. Your blood curdles with fear. “There’s no need to be so tense. It’s only me.”

“No… Please wait. Hold on!”

“Hm? If I’m not mistaken, this is what you want. You were rather vocal about your desires. You’ve always been. So why are you looking at me like that? I’m not scary, am I?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Please let me go…”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, his tone patient despite the subject. “You know I can’t do that.”

“But you… You kidnapped me! Y-You had those guys hiding in my home and they…” You shake your head, unable to describe the sheer terror that had overwhelmed you when those creepy twins descended. Hopeless, you open your eyes to give him your most despairing look. Tears brim in your eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest prodding.

“Oh, my dear, did they scare you? They’re brutes who know nothing of how to treat a person with adequate care. You needn’t worry anymore. I’m here for you.” He cups your face in a fond hold, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your cheek. “Don’t cry, angelfish. You’re in good hands—my hands. And have they not been the most generous?”

“You’re crazy. Obsessed! How can you think any of this is okay? Look around at the walls! You’ve pasted our conversations everywhere—they’re practically the wallpaper!”

“What of it?” His hand slides down to grip your chin, forcing you to meet him at eye level. “I love you. I have for months now. And if those are the ways you choose to classify my care, so be it.”

Tear trails trace down your face. He leans in to kiss the rivers away, but they morph into the saltiest of seas.

“You may not approve of my affections right this very moment. You may hate me, think I’m monstrous, a culmination of all things foul, but you will love me. In due time, my dear. And when you do, the world will open and the chain will come off and you will know freedom under my roof.”

He has the gall to worship you with a loving smile. It poisons you with newly brewing abhorrence.

“So cry your heart out. Scream and kick up a fit. Do what you must. And when the floods subside, we can learn to love one another. Both at our best and our worst, within and beyond Magicord.”

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #n/sfw

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mitsuyeaah · 1 year

Text

UNDIVIDED ATTENTION

SANZU HARUCHIYO x f! reader

“said he got a lot of cash, darling, he can’t buy my love. it’s you i’m dreaming of.”

cw: chauffeur! sanzu, ex-delinquent! sanzu, wealthy! reader, m! OC (briefly), modern au, age gap (haru is 27 & reader is 23), slight mutual pining, angst, fluff, smut mdni (intoxicated consensual sex), nsfw, virginity loss, forbidden love, swearing, mention of scars, mention of drugs, use of weed, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl), lazily proofread (sorry in advance).

word count: 13.8k i'm so sorry

a/n: here's a little treat before my break ends! hope you guys enjoy! also, i don’t know when i’ll write something long again but we shall see :") © divider: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

The smell of expensive leather mixed with the cologne your chauffeur wore filled your lungs as you sank back into the plush leather of the backseat of your vehicle. The lights outside dimly lit the quiet car, you stared out the window, observing the tall buildings that almost touched the clouds and billboards that surrounded the bustling city.

People were out and about, some dressed up–for what you presumed to be for the club–getting ready to start the night, some were hastily walking out of their work buildings, their IDs swaying around their neck with every step they took. You would never know what it felt like to spend your Friday night dressing up for the club, instead, you related more to the latter group of people.

It was another stressful day at work, meetings followed after one another. It also didn’t help that more projects were handed over to you because you were ‘going to be the next successor of this company’ as per your father’s words. You let out a sigh and rested your head on the head rest, closing your eyes and letting the music and soft hum of the car engulf you.

“Sanzu?” you broke the comfortable silence, your chauffeur briefly looked at you from the rear mirror before focusing back on the road ahead of him, your eyes were still closed, “Yes, Miss?” he quietly replied.

“I don’t want to go home yet…” you muttered, placing an arm over your eyes, as if it would somehow erase all your problems. He nodded, even though you couldn’t see him and replied, “Understood.” Sanzu knew what you meant by that, he’s only been your chauffeur for 3 months, but he’s memorized every single one of your demands, no matter how vague they are.

In this case, you wanted to drop by a specific park where you spent most of your childhood playing. He knew that you went there every single time you were stressed or upset about something, Sanzu knew because he’s been driving you to this park countless times in a span of 3 months, and those times, you were always either stressed or upset.

He muttered a silent ‘we’re here’ as he turned off the engine, Sanzu held onto the wheel with his left hand and slightly turned his body to face you. You removed your arm from your eyes and let out a soft sigh as you stepped out of the vehicle, you were met with the crisp winter evening air, slightly shivering as it made contact with your warm skin.

You made your way over to the wooden bench you always sat on, it overlooked the grassy fields and the now leafless trees surrounding the place. Sanzu followed you wordlessly, at this point, he already knew what to do and it was basically routine for him.

You didn’t mind having your chauffeur by your side as you mulled over your thoughts, in fact, it was your initial idea to have him sit with you.

You didn’t expect anything from him but his mere presence, and he also didn’t mind sitting there, there was no awkward tension at all. After all, you’ve done this so many times in the past. Sanzu sat next to you, leaving an appropriate space in between and neatly folding his arms on his lap.

You turned your head to the older man next to you and furrowed your brows, “I told you, you don’t have to wear that when you’re with me… which is basically almost twenty-four seven, so you don’t have to wear it at all.”

He was wearing that stupid black mask again, which covered any facial features lower than his turquoise eyes.

You studied him, your eyes tracing his side profile. Sanzu wore his long pink hair in a ponytail, shorter loose strands framing the left side of his face, he also sported one black hoop earring in each ear but you knew he had more piercings than that, something you’ve grown fond of.

The way the warm streetlight illuminated his profile warmed something in your chest, and the way his turquoise eyes turned a shade warmer..

“Your father saw me without it… you can guess what happened next.” Sanzu shrugged, looking over at you, his facial muscles flexing under his mask—you presumed he was smiling under it but not a genuine one, it didn’t reach his eyes.

The reason for the black mask that sat on Sanzu’s face was unnecessary. It was enforced by your father that he had to wear it at all times as Sanzu possessed scars on either corner of his lips, almost in the shape of a diamond.

Your father was strict when it came to the company’s reputation, and apparently strict enough to ask your personal driver to cover his scarred face, though you thought it was purely not needed as Sanzu was just a chauffeur.

You also didn’t like the way your father asked Sanzu to minimize his earrings down to one jewelry per ear, again, completely unnecessary.

If you were being honest, your father was never fond of Sanzu and did not even have intentions of hiring him as your personal driver.

Your father only hired Sanzu because you insisted you liked him the most out of all potential chauffeur candidates, despite the man not having past experience for the job at hand but you didn’t care, the job required was to just drive anyway.

Sanzu explained during his interview for this job that he’s an ex-delinquent–another reason why your father did not like Sanzu–but has changed his ways and is now trying to live a better life, a normal one at that.

His reasoning moved you in some way, you felt the genuinity in his words which indicated that he was serious about this new path he’s taking, Sanzu was also a bit hesitant to discuss this during the interview as he felt like it was too late for him to do so since he was already twenty-seven years old–four years older than you–but you reassured him during the interview that it was never too late to change to a better path.

Sanzu has been nothing but a polite individual, he was not a man of too many words and often opted to just listen, even if it was just the both of you. Sometimes you wonder what runs through his mind.

“Well, my father is not here, so you can take it off. And I’ll tell him to lay off about that damn mask, I don’t like it on you.” you scoffed, already not liking the idea of your father scolding Sanzu for not wearing his mask.

The older man nodded and hesitantly brought his hands up to either side of his face to unhook the mask from his pierced ears. A small shiver ran down Sanzu’s back as the cold air kissed the hot skin that had been confined under the suffocating mask.

All while he was doing this, a small smile dawned upon your face, he was breathtaking.

“You know, I don’t really mind wearing a mask… it makes people stare less at my face.” Sanzu’s gaze dropped down to his hands as he neatly folded the mask and pocketed it.

He wasn’t going to lie, he liked the feeling of breathing air without a piece of cloth confining his nose and mouth but he just felt more vulnerable without it, especially when strangers didn’t bother to hide their disgust when staring.

Conversely, the mask lessened the attention on him, and he felt less vulnerable with the way it covered his emotions.

Upon hearing this, you frowned. You didn’t like the way Sanzu got so comfortable with hiding himself from the world because of the nasty stares he got from just being himself.

There was literally nothing to cover, Sanzu was just as beautiful with or without his scars, and they definitely don’t define him. Something people needed to keep in mind. You refrained from complimenting him out loud because it would be a bit awkward as you two weren’t that close, yet.

“But I don’t mind and I think that’s the only opinion that matters because I hired you, and you work for me. So, fuck everyone else, they’re just projecting their insecurities.”

You never really knew how Sanzu got his scars and you didn’t want to ask since he was clearly insecure about them but you presumed he got it from his delinquent days. Just a mere guess though.

Sanzu chuckled at your reply, he thought you were cute but still very naïve. He gave you a smile, a genuine one, “Technically, your father hired me.” you playfully shook your head at him, muttering ‘that’s basically the same thing’ under your breath.

The two of you spent an hour or so like this, a friendly banter occurring back and forth at times. It definitely de-stressed you a lot, which you were thankful for Sanzu for the most part, as he was the only one listening to your endless rants about your personal life and job.

“You wanna know why I wanted to come here tonight?” you dryly chuckled, your gaze shifting down to your hands as you fiddled with your fingers and picked at your skin. Sanzu noticed that it was a habit of yours to do that every time you had something in your mind that bothered you. He also stared at your hands, “Why?”

It took you about a full minute to answer before letting out a heavy sigh and finally looking back at him, fingers still picking at your skin, “It’s my birthday today.” you forced a smile.

Sanzu barely showed any emotions but he was visibly shocked at this, his brows shooting upwards, eyes widening and his scarred mouth slightly parting.

Genuine shock soon turned into confusion, brows furrowing as he asked you, “Why aren’t you spending time with your family? I’m sure they’d organized something for you.”

Sanzu genuinely believed this. Your family was wealthy so it confused him as to why your parents wouldn’t plan something extravagant on your 23rd birthday, like what other rich people did.

You were a child of a very wealthy man who owned one of the biggest marketing firms in the country, so it confused him a bit.

You shook your head and let out another sigh as you threw your head back and looked up at the vast sky above, “Nah… I grew up spending my birthdays alone. I would always come home to the same thing every year, a big bouquet of flowers, stacks of presents and a tiered cake. It was nice at first but I got tired of it… I never once spent my birthday with them after the age of 5.” you replied, still looking up at the stars.

Your parents were the type of people to think they could keep you happy by giving you whatever you wanted, and it did, for only a short period of time. But what you really wanted was some quality time and their undivided attention, they were always so caught up on work that they forgot about their only child.

Guess they did not, in fact, give you whatever you wanted.

Sanzu truly felt sorry for you, he’s definitely got a gist of how your family functions with only 3 months of working for you, both your parents were work-driven and managed to prioritize the company before their child’s own needs.

He felt kind of bad for assuming you were just another spoiled wealthy kid when he first started his job. Sanzu had picked you up from your family-owned company one night, a big bouquet of red roses sitting in the back seat, its scent filling the car.

Your father had apparently gotten you the roses as a congratulatory gift for being promoted, at least that’s what he told Sanzu.

He remembered how you stepped into the car and didn’t even bat an eye at the expensive gift, Sanzu looked at you through the rear-view mirror as you read the handwritten letter attached on the bouquet–presuming it was written by your father–you simply just sighed and tossed it back to the general direction of the roses.

He was a bit taken back by your behaviour but remained silent as he backed out of the parking space and into the busy streets.

Now, he understood why you acted that way that night. You were just so used to your parents giving you all these gifts that it lost all its monetary value, no matter how expensive they were.

Sanzu knew that what you truly sought out was some quality time from your parents, you didn’t need expensive gifts, you needed their love and attention just like any other kid growing up.

Even though the two of you lived very different lives, he was somewhat relating to your situation. Growing up, he never had proper parental figures, god, he didn’t even know them that much as his parents were barely home and probably fucked around with drugs, which left him and his siblings to fend for themselves.

Unlike you, he had two siblings, an older brother and a younger sister. His older brother was no different, he focused more on their younger sister which isolated Sanzu a lot but he did have his younger sister, although their relationship wasn’t the very best.

“I’m sorry. Happy Birthday.” was all Sanzu could reply, his gaze softened as he stared at your side profile, you were still admiring the stars.

You chuckled and finally looked at him and held his aquamarine gaze, “You don’t have to be, it’s not your fault… and thank you.” Sanzu’s chest warmed as he saw a glint of happiness in your eyes, he swore you were about to cry but blinked away the tears threatening to form.

You didn’t know why but his greeting genuinely made you happy, “You must think I’m so lame, I only have my chauffeur to rant to.” you scoffed and looked away once again, this time scanning the tree lines ahead of you.

He didn’t think you were lame, you were quite the opposite. Sanzu understood the demands your parents asked from you–with the amount of times you’ve ranted to him–and figured you didn’t live a very memorable childhood despite being surrounded by endless wealth.

You were only in your early twenties but he felt you were much more mature despite your young age, it was probably due to the fact that you had expectations to uphold and roles to fill.

“No. I think you’re okay.” this was the first time Sanzu has spoken more than ever for the past three months you’ve had him working for you, he was actually actively engaging in the conversation and not just the occasional nods and hums he gave when you ranted before, you appreciated this from him, more than he knew.

Your night was cut short when you remembered you had something early the next day, even though it was the weekend. Sanzu drove you back home and didn’t forget to greet you ‘happy birthday’ one last time before he hopped onto his motorcycle–that was parked inside the garage–and rode home.

You smiled to yourself like an idiot as you made your way inside your family estate, he made you happy, something not a lot of people can do.

As expected, you were met with your usual birthday presents, but this time you weren’t surrounded by maids and butlers. You stood in front of the dining hall, the long mahogany table stretching from one end to another filled with meals you get more than usual on your birthday.

The chairs were also occupied by your parents and three other guests you didn’t know, this surprised you as you’ve spent countless birthdays sitting on one end of the table, alone and no one to talk to but the maids and butlers that stood by if you needed anything. At least they were always nice enough to sing you a ‘happy birthday’ to lighten the damp mood.

You furrowed your brows at the three unknown guests, the last thing you expected was your parents actually showing up for your birthday and bringing in unknown guests to dine with.

Sure, the estate was often filled with unknown guests which you assumed were close business partners of your father and the company but you never had to dine with them.

The unknown older man sat on the other end of the table, opposite your father, whereas the older woman–probably his wife–sat across from your mother, both were around the age of your parents, and the last person was a young man probably around your age as well but you didn’t recognize him.

“Happy Birthday! We’ve been waiting for you, come and have a seat!” your father greeted you from one end of the table, a saccharine smile forming upon his lips.

You hesitantly made your way over to the only empty seat–which was across from the young man you have yet to be introduced to–and muttered a small ‘thank you’.

The young man opposite you gave you a shy smile before taking a sip of his red wine. “I want you to meet one of our most trusted business partners, the FJ group, and this is their son Heizo Fujio.” your father indicated the young man opposite you, you politely greeted them.

You’ve heard of the FJ group before, they were one of the top selling retail companies in the country with an average revenue sitting in the billions area and their brands always successfully making profit.

You could finally put a face to the owner of the FJ group but it wasn’t like you were desperate to do so. The young man–Heizo–gave you another smile upon his introduction, politely jutting his arm across the table and in front of you, you didn’t hesitate to shake his hand and return his smile but you were still confused as to why they were here.

As if on cue, your father spoke up once again with delight in his eyes, something inside you didn’t like that look in his eyes, not anticipating what was coming next.

“Mr. Fujio and I have been discussing you and Heizo… and we were thinking since both of you are our next successors, it would be in our best interest for you two to personally know each other, with marriage in mind. We have been business partners for so long and we feel like we’re ready to take it a step further.”

You didn’t know what to say.

You sat there frozen in your seat, the sound of your heart drumming rapidly against your chest engulfing you as your mind reeled. First of all, what the fuck? And second of all, I didn’t consent to this. That’s what you wanted to say but your parents raised you better than to disrespect the food on the table.

Your breathing became erratic as you could feel your limbs tingling, you wanted to do something but didn’t know what. You hated this feeling because it only came around when you knew you couldn’t do anything about the situation at hand. It was beyond your control.

Overreacting? Probably.

And yes, you haven’t met Heizo nor explored his personality and it also doesn’t mean that he might not turn out so bad but the idea of marriage was just… too soon.

You only just turned twenty-three today, you were still young and had a bright future ahead of you, and marriage was just something you haven’t thought of, especially since you’re always busy with the firm and practically have no time to get to know anyone.

Your eyes darted around the table, all of them seemed to be pleased about this news, especially Heizo. You felt like an outcast, it felt like someone had told an inside joke that they all knew except for you. Were you the only one thinking things are being rushed? Even your mother was nodding along.

Nothing came out as you opened your mouth, you thought of ways to counter this idea or at least let them re-think about the marriage. But there was nothing. Your mind went blank and you felt helpless. You didn’t know why but amidst the blankness of your mind, you swore you saw Sanzu.

—

Sanzu briefly glanced at you through the rear view mirror while he waited for the vehicle engine to warm up, you sat at the back seat and your beige trenchcoat wrapping around your body as you crossed your arms and looked outside the window.

He noticed your hair was styled in a ponytail, and you wore your signature diamond drop earrings that probably cost more than his life; from what he’s gathered, you only wore the pair during formal occasions.

“Heading to the firm today, right?” he asked.

You glanced over at your chauffeur, earrings swaying at every movement, he sported his usual white button up and black slacks but this time accompanied with a black bomber jacket due to the colder season.

A smile appeared upon your lips, seeing that he didn’t wear his mask, Sanzu noticed your smile. “Oh, I forgot to text you that my morning meeting for today has been rescheduled. I have a date with Heizo… so we’ll head over to FJ since they suggested we take one car.” He noticed the corners of your lips dropping as you replied.

Oh, so that’s what the earrings were for. You had a date. Sanzu thought.

This was the first time Sanzu had to drive you on a date, majority of the time he just drove you to and from work, with some other trips to leisure places like high-end stores where you came back with a shit ton of bags that housed varieties of luxury items.

You definitely had a keen eye for pretty things.

There was even one time where you asked him to accompany you to browse the autumn collection of a high-end clothing brand and he swore he’s never kept his hands to himself as much as he did inside the store, with the fear of accidentally damaging items worth more than his life.

Sanzu felt something odd in his chest at the thought of you going on a date with another man but he quickly brushed it off and nodded before he started typing the address of the FJ Group on the built-in screen of your vehicle.

The car ride was mainly silent but not uncomfortable. From time to time, he glanced over at you through the rear view mirror, your brows knitted together and occasionally letting out deep sighs that felt like there was something heavy behind it all, something that clouded your mind.

There was something bothering you but Sanzu didn’t want to pry.

He would never admit this to anyone else but it pained him whenever something bothered you, he knew the strict life you lived under the control of your parents and he knew the expectations you desperately tried to reach, and sometimes he would just wish that you had one genuine day where you were free from it all; the expectations, the stress, and the calculated future you had ahead of you.

But little did he know you were free from all that but only when you were with him.

Sanzu drummed his fingers on the leather steering wheel, nodding his head to the music while you both waited for Heizo; the car was parked–but still running–in the basement parking lot of the FJ Group firm.

He was eager to finally put a face to the name since it's been clouding his mind ever since you told him about it. Was he handsome? Well dressed? Was he good for you? These questions ran through Sanzu’s mind and he had to mentally stop himself from thinking about them as it didn’t even concern him. After all, he’s just a mere chauffeur, your chauffeur.

A fairly tall man exited the building which caught Sanzu’s turquoise gaze, he stopped drumming his fingers and focused on the man making his way towards your black Porsche.

Heizo was wearing a white button up paired with a navy blue vest and slacks, topping the outfit off with a black trench coat. Sanzu thought he looked absolutely charismatic despite being effortless, he felt a slight pang of jealousy. He didn’t know why.

Heizo enthusiastically greeted you as he entered the vehicle, his expensive musky cologne immediately filling up the car which made Sanzu almost gag at the smell, it overpowered your sweet scented perfume, the perfume you always wore and he’s grown to love.

The pink haired man silently watched as Heizo scooted all the way to the middle seat of the vehicle, leaving almost no room between the two of you, he also noticed the way you uncomfortably leaned closer towards the car door.

It was almost painful for Sanzu to hide his expression at Heizo’s brazenness, he could tell you two weren’t close with the way you shifted against the leather seat.

“We’re headed to The Black Pearl.” Heizo turned his attention to Sanzu.

Sanzu briefly looked back at the man next to you and nodded, but he didn’t miss the way Heizo’s gaze lingered at his scarred lips, a little too long for his liking. Sanzu also didn’t miss the way his face contorted ever so slightly with pure disgust before turning his attention back to you.

Sanzu cleared his throat and looked ahead of him, uncomfortably shifting in his seat before pulling out of the parking space.

—

It was already late in the afternoon and had just dropped off Heizo at their place. You watched as the man waved from the marble steps and hastily made his way inside their mansion.

Before Sanzu could drive off, you told him to wait and quickly got out of the back passenger seat, making your way over to the front passenger seat and sitting next to Sanzu.

He was taken aback by your bold move, his keen turquoise eyes watching you fasten your seatbelt.

“...You okay?” he asked as you made yourself comfortable against the expensive leather material of the seat. You met his aquamarine gaze and gave him a smile that shouldn’t have made him suck in a breath and his heart skip a beat, “I’m fine, just wanted to sit here.” you shrugged and looked out the window.

Sanzu stared at you for a couple more seconds, studying every single one of your features, you looked content. Definitely a contrast from your mood just a few minutes earlier when Heizo was still in the car.

Sanzu traced the outline of your pretty face and the way the corner of your lips were slightly upturned, like you were trying to hide a smile but failed to do so.

He inhaled a shallow breath as felt something inside him, something in his chest; he doesn’t know when he’s been feeling this sensation but it’s different, something he’s never felt before. It felt warm and comfortable, and he wanted to grasp every single bit of this feeling but something deep within tells him that it might be dangerous.

It wouldn’t hurt to test the waters, right? Test whatever he was feeling.

He gripped the steering in front of him and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the warmth was now spreading up his neck and to his cheeks and ears. Sanzu put the car on ‘drive’ and started driving before his mind could think of any other thoughts that would confuse him.

The date went okay.

That was the only word you could think of, nothing more, nothing less. You didn’t really expect much from Heizo but you also didn’t expect less from him.

You two just didn’t… click, all he talked about was how many successful projects he had launched, how he was the sole reason for having a higher percentage of sales than last year, and how— basically all the business talk.

Although, the only thing that stuck to you was that Heizo was the same age as you, not that it mattered.

You didn’t care about the business talk he brought upon the table, nor did you care about the fact that he–on your very first date–bought you expensive jewellery and from his words, which was ‘one of a kind’ as he had gotten it specifically catered to you. Whatever the fuck that meant.

You remember blankly staring at the necklace that rested inside a black velvet box, every single diamond twinkling under the restaurant lights.

You remember the proud look on Heizo’s face, like he had done something out of this world, like he thought he had already won your heart by merely buying you something expensive. Maybe it’s the thought that counts.

Just like my parents, you thought.

There was no genuine connection between you and him because you two clearly had different ideas in mind when thinking about what to talk about on a first date.

If you actually saw potential in Heizo and tried, you would have wanted to get to know him. You didn’t wanna know about what fantastic deals he’s closed, how much he contributed to the company sales, nor how much he spent on that necklace he got you.

You would’ve wanted to know about his interests and what he does in his free time to entertain himself.

In this world, you feel that people forget so much about the little things, the little things that matter. Nowadays everyone focuses solely on the monetary value and often forget that one of the foundations of love is attention, being attentive towards their partner and fulfilling their physical and mental needs with what they actually need.

People often mistaken that going for a materialistic approach will fulfil one’s needs but it doesn’t.

Sanzu had the urge to ask how your date went, he could feel the question building in his throat but had to quickly swallow it down because it did not concern him in any way. But it’s as if you read his mind, you broke the silence in the vehicle, “It was awful.” you scoffed.

“All he talked about were business-related things and was just basically flaunting his money. The audacity of him to think he’d be able to win me over by using his wealth… I mean like, not that he has a chance but you get what I mean, right?” You turned your head to the pink haired man, his aquamarine eyes focused on the road but you knew he was listening intently with the way he nodded his head and gave you a hum.

“Goodness, what a fool he is if he thinks he can buy my love.”

“The last time I went on a date was when I was twenty and I kid you not, these men have not changed. Thinking that all the ladies would be impressed about being rich.” you continued your rant, Sanzu has never seen you this worked up over something, it amused him a bit and thought you were cute.

“Hm. Maybe because I’ve been looking in the wrong direction for a real man." he could feel your burning gaze on the side of his face and it took him all his willpower not to look back at you because he had to focus on the road.

But fuck, his heart was beating so fast. Last time his heart beat this fast was when he took unknown pills to try and forget everything.

All you wanted was someone different, like a breath of fresh air, someone genuinely interested in you and your personality. Yes, Heizo was wealthy and you both were in the same tax bracket but what is he underneath all that wealth? What kind of person would he be?

Later that night, after his job for the day was over, Sanzu went for a night drive with his motorcycle. He wanted to clear his head because all he could think of was you.

The way your lip gloss complemented your lips, the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the way your eyes twinkled every time— Fuck, this is unprofessional, he cursed himself.

How could he be thinking about you like that? You were so sweet and nice, and the sole reason why he got this job, so he couldn’t compromise his position by thinking this way.

But you were just so pure and so innocent that he wanted to ruin you, to ravage every single ounce of your innocence— “Fuck.” he whispered to himself as he sat on his still motorcycle. He wanted to smoke so bad but he knew better than getting high and riding back home.

As soon as you got home, you managed to convince your parents that you didn’t think things with Heizo were going to escalate further than being just business partners and to your surprise, they took it quite well, especially your father.

He even mentioned that maybe you two weren’t actually compatible from the beginning. This relieved you as you thought they would finally let the marriage idea go.

You thought wrong.

For the past few days, you finally knew why your parents were able to let that whole situation with Heizo go down the drain and it was because they found you new suitors.

Yes, plural. Apparently they had a whole list of your potential suitors and Heizo was just one of the many, this made you question your parents why they were so desperate to get you a husband. After all, you were only at the ripe age of twenty-three.

Just as you expected, it was for the future of the company. Like it always had been when it came to your life. Pursue a business degree, it’s for the sake of your future and the company, they told you and so you did. Focus on your studies and quit messing around, you’re the future of the company, they told you and so you did.

They reminded you countless times how you were the future and successor of the company that it almost became embedded in your brain, you had expectations to reach and roles to keep up with, but at the same time, your parents forgot that who they were pressuring was just a mere child.

They didn’t know the heavy weight you had to carry upon your back, practically sacrificing your mental and physical well being for the sake of the company. It also didn’t help how apathetic they were; they missed your birthdays, your university graduation ceremony, and most importantly they never gave you the love and attention you wanted.

Gifts were given to you in exchange for your parents’ absence.

Your whole schedule was practically cleared just to go on dates for your potential suitors and Sanzu was surprised when you told him about your current situation, and why he had to drive you everywhere but to your work.

It was yet another one of those days where you had just finished a date with another suitor, you were growing so damn tired of it, of everything. Every single one of these men–more like boys–were just what you expected.

No one stood out and no one bothered to make a genuine connection with you. You were met with all sorts of strategies and presents that were used to woo you but none of them worked because at the end of the day, they were all just the same, they only had wealth to brag about.

In between the dates you went on, you got closer to Sanzu, close enough that you were both now on a first name basis and you were even sitting more frequently beside him while he drove.

You also noticed how much he has opened up to you, he barely wore his mask and wouldn’t hesitate to give you hearty laughs whenever you tried to lighten the mood.

It didn’t even feel like he was your chauffeur but instead a friend. A friend who you could lean on, a friend who didn’t base you solely on your status, a friend who saw you for who you really were.

A friend who gave his undivided attention.

Although, the funny thing was that during your dates, your mind started to wonder what traits you were looking for in a partner because you clearly already knew what you didn’t want in a partner. During these, you would often find yourself comparing every single one of your suitors to a particular someone.

Haruchiyo.

Every time someone new came, your mind went back to Haruchiyo and thought about how they were nowhere near his personality that you’ve grown so fond of.

You looked for Haruchiyo Sanzu in every guy you went on a date with.

And at that moment, that was when you finally noticed your feelings that had been lingering and laying dormant deep in your heart. The dates you went on awakened your feelings for him.

You were in love with Haruchiyo.

You sat there, frozen while blankly staring at the road ahead of you as you came to the realisation that you loved him. You didn’t even know you were gripping the fabric of your pants until Haruchiyo asked if you were okay and pointed it out as he briefly glanced over your way and back to the road, “Hm? I’m fine…” you murmured.

Haru was the best person you could imagine to fall in love with but the situation was complicated. It was a risk and you never took risks, everything in your life was calculated and planned out for you. Besides, you didn’t even know if he even felt the same way.

“Have you ever been in love, Haru?” you leaned your head onto the headrest and turned your head to him, lips jutting out in a slight pout.

God, he liked it so much when you used his nickname, it did unexplainable things to him. Haruchiyo waited for the car to come to a complete stop at the lights before turning to you and holding your curious gaze.

It took him a few seconds to answer, like he was wracking his brain around to find the most suitable reply, “Hm… I guess I could say yes.” you nodded before dropping your gaze and looking out the window, how lucky she must be, you thought.

“What made you ask?” he questioned, returning his focus back on the road as the light turned green.

You shook your head, still looking out the window, “...Nothing. It’s just that I think— no, I am in love with a certain someone but it’s complicated.” you let out a huff and avoided looking back at the man that made your heart ache and skip a beat.

His brows shot up at your sudden confession, Haruchiyo gripped the steering wheel a little harder as he felt jealousy engulfing his body, “Oh? One of your suitors? Isn’t that good?” it pained him trying to force himself to sound like he cared. But he didn’t, he didn’t give a single fuck about it.

“No and no. That’s the thing… he’s not a suitor that my parents have picked out.” you covered your face with your palms, groaning into them. This feeling drove you crazy, you wanted Haruchiyo so bad, you yearned for him but didn’t know how to approach the situation.

Haruchiyo’s heart skipped a beat at this; there it was again, the warm feeling that spread throughout his body but this time he knew what it was. There was this ounce of hope that kept him going, that you would see him as a man and not just someone who worked for you.

“Ah… then who is it?”

Haruchiyo did his best to remove all traces of desperation laced in his tone. He took deep breaths while waiting for your answer. He wanted to look at you so badly but he needed to focus on the road, he wanted to see your expression right this very moment.

You remained silent at his question but your mind was screaming for you to tell him how you truly felt. Your limbs were tingling, your heart was racing and your mind was going crazy; the confession was stuck in your throat but you couldn’t physically bring yourself to do it because you were scared to take the risk.

But at the same time, this was a risk for yourself. Your very own decision and not made by someone else.

Your fists clenched on your lap as you prepared yourself, your leg bounced with anxiety as tension grew, slowly filling the vehicle as his question remained unanswered. You bit your lip, desperate to tell Haruchiyo how you really felt about him.

Fuck it. was your last thought before opening your mouth to confess.

“It’s you. I’m in love with you Haru.”

Haruchiyo Sanzu almost fucking choked on his saliva. His brows shot up and mouth slowly parted at your sudden confession, he didn’t know what to say, his throat was suddenly dry. Haruchiyo felt like he was intoxicated, his legs and arms felt lighter, everything just felt so different.

Fuck, was the music always this loud? He thought. His mind raced as he played your confession over and over again, and without fail, it made his body warmer.

He was fucking ecstatic. You love him back. He wanted to just lean over across the console and kiss you so badly but he couldn’t, you were so close yet so far away from him.

“Fuck, princess, you can’t just confess like that while I’m in the middle of driving.” he let out a sharp breath followed by a breathy chuckle.

Before you knew it, Haruchiyo was already pulling into the garage, he swiftly parked the vehicle and turned it off before turning to you. Silence engulfed you both as you held each other’s stares, you swore your ears started to ring with how intense his gaze was.

You blinked, “D-do you feel the same way?” you broke the silence, studying Haruchiyo’s face, he was truly beautiful, the way his long pretty lashes complimented his turquoise eyes. He briefly closed his eyes and opened them again, nodding his head, “Is that even a question?”

A smile made its way to your lips and your eyes twinkled as you looked up at him with hearts in your eyes. “I really want to kiss you right now… but I’ve never kissed anyone and I don’t really know how…” you trailed off, avoiding his turquoise eyes as your cheeks warmed at your silly confession.

You stared at his lips, it was so tempting. Haruchiyo noticed you staring at his lips and thickly swallowed, normally he would start feeling uncomfortable if it were any other person that stared at his lips but it was different with you.

With you, he didn’t have to reel back and hide his biggest insecurity. Your gaze felt warm, there were no signs of disgust and judgement, only love.

“I can help you out… if you want.” Haruchiyo replied, his voice dropping an octave lower.

“Please, Haru?”

Haruchiyo swore under his breath as you begged for him. He wasted no time leaning over the console and reaching for you, placing a firm hand on the side of your neck as he desperately pulled you closer to him and sealing the gap between your lips.

His kisses were slow and sensual, it was your first time after all so he wanted you to feel all of him. Your lips perfectly moulded against each other, he was so warm and soft that you almost didn’t mind doing this all day.

You desperately clawed at the fabric of his chest, wanting more of Haruchiyo’s kisses. The ringing in your ears got louder as you kissed him longer, your legs felt weak even though you were sitting down, and your head spun. It felt so so good. The way your body reacted to his kisses was something you’ve never felt before.

Something within Haruchiyo stirred when you let out a whine as he started rubbing the side of your neck using the thumb of the hand that was firmly placed there. He’s barely even touched you properly and you were already whining for him? How cute. He’s going to absolutely ruin you.

Haruchiyo was about to stick his tongue in your mouth until he heard the garage door open. You both lunged away from each other at the loud sound, desperate to catch your breaths.

You bit your lip at the state of the man in front of you, his cheeks were dusted pink, lips swollen and letting out soft pants as his chest desperately rose up and down. Beautiful, you thought.

“Oh fuck, it’s your father.” Haruchiyo’s lust-filled eyes widened, reaching for his pocket and quickly slipping his mask on, you both desperately tried to fix yourselves up before exiting the vehicle and pretending like you two weren’t just sucking the life out of each other a few seconds ago.

Your father greeted the both of you before hopping into his own car with his personal driver. You headed for the door that led inside the estate while Haruchiyo headed for his motorcycle, you both looked back at each other and gave shy smiles before parting ways.

Later that night, you had asked Haruchiyo to meet up and discuss this whole situation and he was grateful for this as he didn’t really know where he stood at that moment, plus, there were hundreds of questions running through his mind.

Yes he was ecstatic about the mutuality of both your feelings, but this was the real world, you were both adults that led very different lives and he knew this wasn’t going to be easy for the both of you… if you two agree to go down the path of establishing a relationship.

You snuck out from your room, heart drumming against your chest as it was your first time doing this. You’ve never snuck out and barely disobeyed your parents so this was clearly an uncommon ground for you and the thought of being caught sneaking out scared you, especially if you were caught by your father.

Haruchiyo waited in front of the garage, sitting under the starry night sky as he leaned on his motorcycle. A small smile crept up your lips as you spotted him and as if on cue, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

He didn’t sport his usual white button up and slacks, instead opting for dark denim pants, black turtleneck, and a leather jacket to top it off; he also wore his hair down which sat past his shoulders.

“You look nice.” you tilted your head up to him, eyes twinkling like the stars in the dark sky.

The corner of his lips twitched up, he muttered a shy ‘thanks’ before handing you a helmet. You placed the black helmet over your head as Haruchiyo hopped on his motorcycle and turned it on, you followed suit, struggling to get on due to being shorter but nonetheless managed to, with the help of the older man.

“Hold on tight. Don’t let go.” Haruchiyo reached behind him and took both of your arms, encircling them around his waist. You nodded, although you knew he couldn’t see you.

As Haruchiyo revved the engine of his motorcycle, your arms tightened around his waist, interlocking your hands that rested on his stomach and leaned your encased head against his back.

He couldn’t help but smirk at your behaviour.

With that, the both of you speed into the darkness of the night, the stars dwelling upon you both. Twinkling like they were happy for you two and your newfound love for each other.

The cold air hit you as Haru manoeuvred his way to your destination, it felt nice riding the motorcycle. You were hesitant at first but managed to relax since Haruchiyo was with you, you felt the safest when you were with him.

It didn’t take too long before the two of you reached the all too familiar destination.

The Park.

The both of you sat sideways on his motorcycle, shoulders touching one another while basking in comfortable silence. “...Why me?” Haruchiyo broke the silence, genuine curiosity laced within his question.

“I mean, you practically have guys begging to be with you. All those expensive gifts, their money, their status… and I’m just… me. A lowly individual who definitely doesn’t make half as much as you do.”

Haruchiyo was genuinely confused as to why you even fell in love with him. It didn’t make sense. He’s done so many wrong things in his life, he wasn’t even making that much money and probably couldn’t provide even if he wanted to and he definitely didn’t even match up to your suitors.

They were wealthy and he was… just normal.

“You’re young and you have a great life ahead of you, so why choose someone like me? Why not go for someone near your age?” He continued.

You chuckled, “That’s the thing. I fell in love with you because you’re you.”

“I don’t care if they’re wealthy and bought me expensive gifts. Those don’t mean anything to me, and you of all people should know that by now. But you, on the other hand… you’re different. Yes, you might claim to have nothing and that’s okay with me, because all I’m after is your love and attention that you did not fail to give me every single time.”

“They could never buy my love with expensive gifts, but you were able to buy my love with attention because that’s all I’ve ever wanted, Haru.” you leaned your head on his shoulder, a sad smile forming on your lips.

Yes, Haruchiyo did not have the wealth to offer you like your suitors had but he offered you something greater, something you’ve been asking for your whole life and that was undivided attention.

He was attentive and listened to you like you were the most interesting person in the whole world–which in fact, he did think you are–, he has been nothing but sweet to you and you couldn’t help but fall in love with all that.

You couldn’t help but fall in love with a man who had no wealth to offer you.

And that was more than okay.

“Also, I don’t care if you’re older than me, it doesn’t matter. All my suitors were merely boys, I’m after a man who knows how to treat me well.”

Haruchiyo couldn’t help but laugh at your sentence, he reached for one of your cold hands and started rubbing them in between his own, tracing unfamiliar shapes on your palm, he leaned his cheek on top of your head and let out a sigh. “I really want to kiss you right now…”

You removed your head from his shoulder which made him look down at you, you met his gaze, “What’s holding you back, Haru? Kiss me.”

You’ll be the fucking death of him.

Haruchiyo obeyed and leaned down to close the gap between the two of you, both your lips cold from the winter air. His kisses were different this time, way different. Haruchiyo kissed with desperation, both his palms cupping your frozen cheeks as he desperately tried to get closer to you.

He didn’t hesitate to stick his tongue past your lips, to which you moaned at the foreign feeling. Everything felt so good, the way his tongue moved against your own, the way he tasted, and the way he firmly held you against his lips.

Haruchiyo trailed hot kisses along your jawline, making you shiver from the contrast of the cold temperature.

“Fuck… this is so unprofessional.” he whispered against the hot skin of your neck before lightly sucking on it. “I don’t— mhm! I don’t see you stopping though…” you angled your head up at the starry sky to give him more access to your neck, your hands making their way to his rosy pink hair and tugging at them.

Haruchiyo let out a low growl, chills running down his spine as you pulled at his hair, “Hmm? You seem to be enjoying yourself.” he chuckled as he gave your neck a peck before pulling away and looking at your flustered state.

Your lips were swollen and soft pants slipped past them as you stared at him with a clouded gaze. He’s barely even touched you and you’re already a mess.

“But… What about your father?” he suddenly looked concerned. The look in his eyes changing from lust to anxiety, he bit his lip at the thought of your father’s wrath. He wasn’t afraid of what your father would do to him, rather he was afraid of what would happen to you.

You were scared.

You knew your father never liked Haruchiyo, not even a single ounce of him but he tolerated Haru for your sake. He hired him for your sake. You were definitely scared of your father finding out about the two of you, there were a lot of reasons to be.

The first one being Haruchiyo not fitting into his standards. You two led very different lives and you could already hear the other companies and media gossiping about you and how you fell in love with your chauffeur who was an ex-delinquent.

You could see your father doing everything he could to make sure you’d have no contact with Haruchiyo.

You shook your head and buried your face in his chest, inhaling his scent, it helped calm you down a bit. “I-i don’t know, Haru… I’m scared but all I know is that I want to be with you.” he placed a hand behind your head and stroked your hair, reassuring you that he’ll be by your side no matter what happened.

But deep down, he was scared shitless. Not because of your father but because he knew that the universe could easily take you away from his grasp and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, because that was life. Life was cruel and harsh, and he didn’t always get what he wanted, no matter how much he prayed to the stars above him.

This time, he wished the universe would listen to him just this once. He could be stripped away of everything for all he cared for but he wouldn’t know what to do if it was you who was taken away from him.

It pained his chest just thinking about it.

A few weeks have passed since establishing your relationship with Haruchiyo, in secret of course.

You two had gotten closer to each other and spent more time together in the evening–away from everyone’s prying eyes–after he picked you up from work, and you always looked forward to them because he truly made you forget about every single thing that stressed you out.

There would be times where you two would steal shy glances at each other whenever someone else was around, slightly brushing your hands with one another as you walked past him in the garage.

But there would also be times where no one was around and the two of you freely held one another, shy glances turned into make out sessions and the slight brush of your hands turned into firmly holding one another.

You also spent more time in the back area of the estate where most of the house workers would be.

You knew Haruchiyo hung around a lot there while waiting for you to go and thankfully all the other workers didn’t bat an eye at your sudden frequent appearance there.

Although, one thing that has gotten you on the edge was the now strained relationship with your father. You’d argued with your parents for days on end about the whole marriage idea and finding a suitor, you told them that it was simply too early to be getting married and that you wanted to focus on your career.

Of course, this was mostly true but you didn’t want to meet other suitors because you wanted to focus on your career but because you’ve already found someone who you want to spend the rest of your life with.

Your father didn’t take the argument too well which resulted in a strained relationship with him. You now felt like you were walking on eggshells when trying to converse with him.

You’ve also discussed countless times with Haruchiyo about the idea of introducing him as your boyfriend to your father, he wasn’t scared about the confrontation but he knew that it wouldn’t go well.

There was a small ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe that your father would actually be on board with your relationship. He wasn’t a cruel man, no, but he had his morals straight and did not hesitate to let anyone know.

But, this was merely just hope you were holding on to and you have yet to test it.

“You look absolutely stunning, by the way.” your boyfriend stole a glance at you from the rearview mirror, his aquamarine eyes twinkling in the dark vehicle.

You were on your way to the venue of the annual winter company party for all employers that worked under your family and the company, and that included Haruchiyo. “I could say the same about you.” you giggled.

It was your first time seeing Haruchiyo sport a low bun but you weren’t complaining; he wore a 3-piece suit–provided by you–which he looked sexy in.

The way the vest hugged his thin waist did unexplainable things to you. Although, the highlight of it was you managed to convince him to leave the mask at home and when he had asked you ‘why’, you simply replied something along the lines of not being able to freely kiss him.

“I want you to walk in with me.” you said as Haruchiyo took the keys from the car and pocketed it, he looked back at you and smiled, nodding. His nerves were getting to him and he didn’t know why, it was just a party, that’s all.

It took all his will power to not wrap his arm around your waist to let all the other men in the room that you were his as you two walked inside.

As expected, it was grand.

Waiters were everywhere serving wine and fancy little appetizers that he probably couldn’t pronounce the name of; it was already filled with familiar faces dressed in fancy attires, many who stood around several cocktail tables and chatting with one another.

As if sensing Haruchiyo’s nervousness, you reached for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before dropping it, he wished you held it a little longer, he was already missing the warmth of your hand.

Your father spotted you and made his way towards the two of you, completely oblivious to the fact that you just held your chauffeur’s hand mere seconds ago. “Sanzu, so glad you could make it.” your father nodded in appreciation at the pink haired man, sternly smiling at him before dropping his gaze down to his uncovered lips.

Haruchiyo froze at this, he didn’t know what to do. The anxious feeling that he’s been pushing down now came surging up, spreading throughout his body, he felt so small and vulnerable, and he absolutely hated it.

You noticed your father’s gaze, annoyance rising as you mentally cursed to yourself. You shifted closer to your boyfriend, letting your arms touch, this made Haruchiyo a bit calmer and appreciated how you always looked out for him.

Before your father could say anything about Haruchiyo, you pulled him away, asking about tonight’s event. You quickly looked back at your boyfriend who was still standing there and mouthed an apologetic ‘I’m sorry’ as you led your father elsewhere.

Haruchiyo shook his head, indicating that it was okay, before pointing to the bar and heading for its direction. Maybe he’ll get a glass of water to clear his mind

With that, you and Haruchiyo barely saw each other as the night progressed. Apparently our father had invited some of the company’s business partners and introduced them to you, it was just never ending introductions all night and you wanted to be beside Haruchiyo.

You wanted to know how he was doing for the period of time you’d been gone from his side.

You finally got a breather from all the introductions and darted your eyes around the venue, there were a lot of people but you knew you could easily spot Haruchiyo by his pink hair, you craned your neck around to look out for his vibrant hair but you couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Looking for someone?” a voice asked behind you.

You let out a sigh and turned around, “Haru, I’ve been looking for you everywhe—” your sentence was cut short due to the fact that it was not Haruchiyo. “H-heizo… hey, um, nice to see you.” you gave him an uncomfortable smile and tried looking behind him for signs of your boyfriend.

The man in front of you began speaking about topics you couldn’t care less about. You only wanted Haruchiyo. You distractedly scanned your eyes around the venue once again, absentmindedly nodding at whatever he was saying before spotting a familiar head of pink hair, he was headed for the doors.

“H-hey, I’ll talk to you later. ‘Kay?” you gave Heizo a small wave and didn’t wait for his response before hastily making your way to Haruchiyo, who just now slipped past the entrance of the venue and was headed outside.

Little did you know, your hasty movements caught your father’s attention, you were headed outside which piqued his curiosity.

Haruchiyo was leaning against the side of the building, you spotted him as soon as you stepped outside, the cool winter air kissing your exposed skin which made you shiver a bit.

“Haru, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” you took a couple of steps and stopped towards the older man, effectively trapping him against the wall. No matter how much Haruchiyo decided to hide his emotions, you knew his eyes never lied. There was something bothering him, the way his aquamarine gaze avoided yours was a give away.

You frowned at his behaviour. “Baby… talk to me.” you tilted your head and cupped his cheeks, “Did anyone say anything to you?” he brought his warm hands over yours and leaned into your touch, eyes closing as it calmed his mind.

“I just— after your father gave me that stare earlier, I couldn’t help but become more insecure and I just felt like all eyes were on me whenever I walked around there.” Haruchiyo sighed and finally met your worried gaze. Your eyes softened at his expression and you gently ran both your thumbs on either corner of his lips.

Your thumbs traced the raised skin on his cheeks, softly stroking them as if it was the most fragile thing in the world, “I’m so sorry.” you whispered and leaned closer to him, giving his scars a kiss.

Your lips lingered on either side of his mouth, handling them with utmost care. Haruchiyo’s chest warmed at your action and leaned his forehead against yours, once again closing his eyes at the intimacy.

“I love you so much. I don’t think I can ever let you go.” he whispered.

You were about to close the gap between your lips until you felt a harsh grip on your wrist, suddenly pulling you away from Haruchiyo. His eyes shot open as he was met with emptiness in front of him, he looked around to see you standing next to your father, his hand firmly on your wrist. Your expression mirrored his, shocked, scared, and confused.

“Stay the fuck away from my daughter!” your father pointed a harsh finger at him, his face contorted with pure anger.

Haruchiyo began to explain the whole situation while taking a step towards you but your father had cut him off and stood in between, effectively blocking his view of you.

Your desperate attempts to calm your father down and telling him not to make such a scene were ignored, you balled your fists as you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

Your boyfriend noticed your distress and wanted to comfort you badly but like everything else in his life, all he could do was stand there and watch you cry.

“I’m taking you home.” your father glanced back at you before pulling you in the other direction, stumbling upon your heels as tears clouded your eyes. Haruchiyo stood there frozen on his spot, fists clenched by his side as the darkness engulfed your figure.

Just like that, he knew his prayers weren’t answered. He knew that the countless nights he prayed under the stars to have you did absolutely nothing.

Yes, the universe was cruel but why didn’t the stars align for you two? Why did he always have to lose something precious? He was already empty from the beginning but losing you gave him a whole new meaning of emptiness.

That night, you layed in bed staring up at the ceiling, tears still rolling down from your eyes. You haven’t stopped crying since the incident and it also didn’t help that your father argued with you all the way back home, he was the one who drove your car back, not Haruchiyo.

You told him about your relationship with Haruchiyo, to which he simply replied along the lines of ending your relationship with him.

You replayed every single harsh word that came out of his mouth about your boyfriend, it broke your heart thinking that there are some people out there that view Haruchiyo in this light. He didn’t deserve that.

“Out of all the guys you could’ve picked, you picked him?! Some scum from the streets? He has a criminal record for fucksakes! I’ve already been lenient enough when you asked me to hire him as your personal driver but this… I can’t let this slide. Having a relationship with your chauffeur? Absolutely outrageous!”

He told you that you were also getting a new chauffeur and forced you to delete and block all your connections with Haruchiyo which broke your heart even more. There was definitely no getting back from this and you feared you would never see him again. You just wanted to see him.

A small whimper escaped your lips, you felt helpless, you wanted to scream out your lungs but didn’t have the energy to, you just wanted Haruchiyo. Your chest ached and your throat tightened as you cried into your pillow, hands tightly gripping the sheets that engulfed your numb body.

You heard the familiar rev of Haruchiyo’s motorcycle, it was faint but distinguishable. He was here? You figured he was there to grab his motorcycle and head home for the night, your heart raced at the thought of him being so close yet so far. You were about to get off your bed and head for the garage until the roaring of his motorcycle faded into the darkness, he was gone.

If you want to see him, you can. A voice replied in your head.

You blinked your tears away and shot up from your bed, your mind running through the endless possibilities of seeing him. You didn’t know where he lived but you could easily obtain that information from the electronic copy of his job application that he had previously sent.

Quickly reaching for your phone, you tapped through the ‘files’ application and pulled up the file you needed.

Bingo.

You entered the taxi you called for and never looked back, not fearing for anyone catching you leaving at this hour as your father had returned to the party and most staff were there as well. You didn’t care if you were in your pyjamas, all you cared about was that you were going to see Haruchiyo.

After paying and bidding the taxi driver a thank you, you made your way to his house, double checking the number stated on your phone with the one plastered on the door. You knew he was home because his motorcycle was parked near the front door.

You lifted a hand and gently knocked on it.

Footsteps on the other side of the door could be heard walking closer until it came to a halt. It took a few seconds before you could hear the fumbling of locks, like they already knew who was on the other side of the door.

The door burst open and revealed a dishevelled Haruchiyo, his rosy pink hair was a mess and his eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying.

You caught a distinct whiff of something else that made you scrunch your nose but you weren’t that naïve to not know what it was. There was definitely another reason why his eyes were red.

Haruchiyo laughed to himself, resting a palm over his eyes like he was going crazy, “Fuuuck, I’m so high that I’m even hallucinating right now.” he chuckled to himself, slurring the words that came out of his mouth.

You noticed the rolled joint rested between his fingers of his other hand and let out a heavy sigh.

You remember him telling you that he would occasionally smoke weed to ease the pain he felt but he reassured you that he hasn’t done it for a few months now. It pained you that you were partially the reason for his behaviour.

You wasted no time to wrap your arms around him, tightly hugging him and never wanting to let go. You reassured him that it was in fact not a hallucination and that you were really there with him. Haruchiyo did not believe you until he ran a slender hand down your back, stroking your hair.

The older man began sobbing uncontrollably that you were actually right in front of him and mumbled sentences along the lines of how he missed you so bad and how empty he felt for the past few hours.

You made your way inside and shut the door behind you, still not letting go of him, “It’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll never leave you.” you sniffled as you buried your face in his chest.

Haruchiyo pulled you both into the couch, his hands firmly situated on your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. He had a lot of questions running through his mind but he was too high to even think about it, all that mattered was that you were there with him.

You circled your arms around his neck and shifted on his lap, trying to find a comfortable spot, “Fuck, don’t do that princess.” Haruchiyo groaned, stilling your hips as he threw his head against the backrest and took a long drag before puffing his lungs out, thick smoke dancing past his lips and evaporating into thin air.

You keenly looked at him, eyes focused on the joint between his fingers.

He noticed your gaze and jutted the joint towards you, a brow lifting in suggestion. You met his clouded stare, eyes droopy and red from intoxication before dropping back down to the joint which emitted wisps of white smoke.

Without any hesitation, you took it from his hand and rested it between your puckered lips, taking a long drag like what Haruchiyo did. It immediately burned your lungs and throat, you couldn’t properly puff out the smoke as you coughed uncontrollably at the foreign sensation in your chest and tears began forming in your eyes.

Haruchiyo stroked your back and slightly chuckled at you, “You took it like a champ.”

He grabbed your hand that held the joint and pulled it closer to his lips before slowly inhaling, his pretty eyes never leaving yours the whole time he did this, and before he exhaled, he placed a hand on your nape and pulled you closer to him. Haruchiyo puffed out smoke past your lips as he gave you open mouthed kisses.

Everything felt so good and light. Your senses were becoming clouded as Haruchiyo did more rounds of blowing smoke into your mouth, you felt light headed, your sense of touch was heightened and you felt horny.

You suddenly felt everything. With the way his warm hands enveloped your neck to the way his lap felt against your thighs.

With intoxication clouding your senses, you didn’t hesitate to swing your leg over his lap and straddle Haruchiyo, to which he merely responded by holding either side of your hips, smirking.

“Haruuu, I want you so bad.” you leaned into his neck, sucking a spot which made him groan.

You started grinding your hips against his as you felt something tingling down there, begging for some kind of friction. Haruchiyo guided your hips against his hard clothed cock, shamelessly moaning at the sensation. Everything felt so good that even as little as grinding against you could get him over the edge.

“Fuck, princess, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into…” he whined as he rested the back of his head against the backrest of the couch, moving your hips back and forth.

You needed more.

You wanted to be closer to Haruchiyo and without thinking, your hands trailed down his chest and into his joggers but before your hands could venture any further, Haruchiyo caught your wrist, “I want to taste you.” he whispered, and kissed your hand.

The two of you messily made your way to his bedroom, lips moulding together and hands tangled with one another.

Haruchiyo softly pushed you onto the soft bed, you made yourself comfortable by scooting up to his pillows before laying down, the room was spinning and your head was pounding but you didn’t care.

He followed suit, crawling up to you and began marking your neck, his large hands making its way inside your pyjama top and grabbing your breast.

“No bra? How naughty…” he chuckled against your neck.

You could only whine at this as he roughly massaged your breasts. You didn’t even know your top was gone until Haruchiyo wasted no time sucking, licking and biting them, giving it all the attention it deserved.

“Haru, please. I just want you.” you grew impatient at his ministrations, he thought you were cute because you clearly had no idea what he was about to give you.

“And you’ll have me… you’ll just have to be a good girl for me first. I want to taste all of you.” he trailed a hand down past your stomach and into your pants. You immediately threw your head back as he circled your clit through your panties, groaning out his name as you tried to close your legs.

“Hmm, so responsive.” Haruchiyo smirked at the state of you as he pried your legs apart.

He wasted no time taking the last pieces of clothing off your body, pulling both your pants and panties down your legs.

Warmth spread up to your cheeks as you were exposed to Haruchiyo, it was your first time doing this and no one had ever seen the entirety of your body.

You closed your legs, suddenly feeling shy as he didn’t bother to hide the stare directed at your wet pussy, “Don’t hide from me now… you wanted this, remember?” he grabbed both of your knees and parted your legs, trailing soft kisses on your inner thigh.

Haruchiyo breathed in your scent as he got closer to your sex. He took experimental licks at your folds and observing your reaction to them, your face was contorted in pleasure and your head was thrown back against his pillows. He took this as an indication to keep going, and he did.

He pressed his mouth against your clit and started sucking like his life depended on it, this earned a loud moan of his name from you which urged Haruchiyo even more.

He slipped his tongue past your folds and explored the warmness of you, you tasted so fucking sweet and he couldn’t get enough of you. He alternated between giving your clit stiff licks and sucking on it which made your hands fly down to his rosy pink tresses and before you knew it, Haruchiyo had brought you to your first orgasm.

You felt a sharp sensation run up your spine as Haruchiyo brought you over the edge, lapping up every single bit of your cum, your vision became white for a second and you swore you saw stars.

Your chest heaved at the intense sensation but you couldn’t help look down at him, he had your cum running down his chin, messy rosy pink hair and heavy lidded eyes.

“I’m not done with you yet, I’m just getting started.”

By the time he brought you to your second orgasm using his fingers, you were already sensitive but you knew what was coming next and you’ve been anticipating this ever since you started grinding on his clothed cock.

Although, you were a bit afraid of his length even though you haven’t seen it, but you’ve surely felt it. Two slender fingers were already too much for you, so you didn’t know what to expect of his cock.

Haruchiyo finally took off all articles of clothing that hid his pretty body, you gaped at his torso, he was definitely on the skinnier side but was well-built. He reached for his joggers and pulled them down along with his brief, he sighed at the sensation that his cock wasn’t being restrained by anything.

Fuck, he was long.

You stared at his stiff cock in all its glory, it wasn’t that thick but his length definitely made up for it. The tip had a pretty shade of pink, just like his lips and was already leaking of precum.

He gave his cock a few strokes before grabbing a condom from the night stand and rolling it down his length, he got on the bed and crawled closer to you.

Haruchiyo sat on his knees and rubbed the tip of his dick at your entrance which earned a whine from you, he got on top of you and started kissing your lips, distracting as he was slowly slipping his dick inside.

“Haru, fuck!” your hands flew to his biceps, gripping them as he pushed further inside, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you anywhere?” his head shot up, concern filling his eyes as he met your glassy gaze, you hastily shook your head and urged him to continue.

With that, Haruchiyo continued pushing in, “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight for me…” he buried his face against your neck, goosebumps arising from his hot pants. You felt an uncomfortable stretch as he continued to push his cock inside your tight heat but at the same time, it felt good. So good.

As he bottomed out, Haruchiyo had to take a breather, you were hugging him so tight that if he moved even the slightest bit, he would come right then and there. He pulled out just a bit and squeezed the base of his cock until the urge to cum just dissipated.

“Please move.” you whined and brought a hand up to his cheek, stroking his scar.

Haruchiyo obeyed and didn’t waste any time before slowly moving in and out of you which caused you to moan loudly and throw your head back against his pillows, your exposed neck gave him the liberty to paint it with even more bruises.

He started to pick up his pace, his balls slapping against your ass and loud squelching sounds could be heard throughout the room.

“F-fuck! You’re so good for me, huh? No wonder why you chose me over them—ngh! You like a man who can give you good dick?” he panted against your ears, sucking and nibbling on them as his thrusts didn’t falter.

You could only moan at his words and claw his back due to the unfamiliar sensation engulfing your body but Haruchiyo wasn’t satisfied with this. “Answer me.” he whispered before biting the side of your neck, harshly.

“A-ah, fuck! Yes! That’s you Haru.” you yelped.

You didn’t even know your eyes were closed until he pulled out of you and was about to whine in protest at his sudden movement, “Wha—” “Face down, ass up for me, pretty girl.” You sat up and turned to face the mattress, bringing your torso down and leaving your ass exposed.

Haruchiyo briefly massaged your ass before pushing back into your cunt and bottoming out all in one go. You balled your fists against his sheets and let out a loud moan, this position was even better, you never knew he could reach inside this deep.

He started moving again, hips loudly slapping against your ass as he matched the thrusts he had previously given you, your moans were definitely a pitch higher and all kinds of sounds spilled from your lips uncontrollably.

You were suddenly roughly grabbed by the back of your neck, resulting in your back pressing against Haruchiyo’s broad chest. Both his palms massaged each of your breasts as he fucked up into you, causing you to throw your head back at his shoulder.

“You’re always so good for me… so pretty.” he whispered, his voice strained indicating that he was close.

“Mm! Only for you Haru—ah!” you reached down and started rubbing fast and tight circles on your clit, wanting to cum with him.

The coil inside you snapped and you started cumming around his cock, fisting your hands against his mattress as the familiar intense sensation runs up your spine. You loudly moaned his name, back arching as the pleasure became too intense.

At the same time, Haruchiyo roughly pushed your face back into the mattress, his thrusts becoming even rougher as he neared his climax.

All it took for him was your clenching walls and he threw his head back in pure bliss, mouth parted as loud shameless moans slipped out, grinding his hips against your ass which pushed his dick even further inside as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

A chain of profanities rolled from his tongue as he shallowly thrusted inside you, milking every last drop of his cum.

The two of you were both spent and sweaty, and how Haruchiyo managed to clean you up was beyond your comprehension. The last thing you saw were his aquamarine eyes and long lashes holding your gaze before sleep took over you, you swore you heard him say ‘I love you’.

The morning came rolling around and your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you saw was Haruchiyo’s peaceful state. He looked so pretty and effortlessly beautiful with the way his long lashes brushed against his cheeks.

You definitely had a keen eye for pretty things.

He looked soft, definitely a complete contrast from his persona last night.

You could get used to waking up to his pretty face every single morning because even though Haruchiyo didn't have anything materialistic to offer you, unlike everyone else, he only had one thing he could truly afford, the one you've been chasing your whole life.

Undivided attention.

Haruchiyo may have not noticed it but his love and attention may have been the most expensive gift you've ever received.

And you knew you’d fight for his love, no matter what it took because you were tired of hiding him from the world.

You wanted to scream your lungs out on a rooftop that you were in love with Haruchiyo Sanzu, the man who offered you nothing and everything at the same time.

wowie, thanks for making it to the very end!

#sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu smut #sanzu angst #sanzu fluff #sanzu x reader #sanzu x you #sanzu brainrot #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers

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outro-jo · 9 months

Text

skz w/ a bunny partner

pairing: skz member x reader

type: headcanon… i think

warnings: none it’s fluff

request: yes

notes: requester described a bunny personality type as cute, shy, easily excited, crinkles their nose, etc.

NOT TAKING REQUESTS/CLEARING INBOX

masterlist | info

—————————————

chan- you are his entire world. you’re so adorable and shy and he’s said many times he would squish you if he could, but he settles for hugging you VERY tightly. chris will purposefully kiss your face at random times because of the way it startles you and how shy you get. the apples of your cheeks burn and you usually hide you face in some way. his personal favorite if when you hide your face in his chest. it’s just so cute. he always says, “awh, naur! i didn’t mean to make you shy!” but he totally did.

lee know- bless him, he tried so hard to keep up his hard, idgaf exterior but the second he’s around you, his whole world gets brighter. his favorite thing is your sweater/jacket paws. you wear everything so large that the sleeves hang over and omg when you start laughing and hide behind your paws. he thought he’d never seen anything so cute in his life. you are his biggest soft spot and he can’t even hide or deny it.

changbin- one thing changbin loves to do is spoil his partner and when it comes to you, he does it every chance he gets. he does it so much with you because of the way you get so excited about things. the first time he brought you a bouquet of flowers he thought he would d!e from the cuteness. ever since he took the time to learn all of your favorite things so he can buy things relating to them just to see the way your face lights up or the way you bounce up and down excitedly.

hyunjin- the first time you ever crinkled your nose around him, he genuinely thought he would have a heart attack from the cuteness overload. it’s a habit you’ve done for as long as you could remember and you hardly even thought about it but apparently your boyfriend thought it was adorable. he was lucky enough to catch it in a photo once and it’s been his lockscreen ever since.

han- jisung has never been more protective over someone in his life. from the moment you agreed to date him, he’s felt this overwhelming need to always make sure you are safe and happy. you are just so cute and sweet and pure to him the thought of anyone or anything ever hurting you would destroy him. so whenever you’re together he always has his hand in yours and in between admiring your cuteness, he’s keeping an eye out for anything.

felix- you two are the same, constantly going back and forth in cuteness aggression for each other. when he made you brownies you got so excited, your hands making little fists and shaking them. his beautiful laugh filled the air and he couldn’t help but pull you in for a quick little kiss. your mutual nose scrunches are almost like a secret language at this point, a way for you both to communicate from across the room to remind the other that you’re still on their mind.

seungmin- he tried so hard not to fold. friends was a good first step for him considering his lifestyle but god, the second you stood in front of him, eyes wide and round, anticipating what he’d say or do next…he was a goner. he loved everything about you, from your cute sense of style to the way you saw the world. he was a certified simp.

i.n- out of all your cute little mannerisms, jeongin’s favorite has to be the way you burrow into his chest. you two are usually laid on the couch or in bed and his arm is thrown around your shoulders. out of nowhere you just get the urge to take your face and hands that are already on his chest and kinda nuzzle into him more. it tickles him and he can’t help but laugh be he loves it because it’s like you can’t get enough him and you physically can’t get close enough—you can’t.

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theartingace · 3 months

Note

Hello! I’ve seen your work over the years and every time I see it I always get a kick over it. I have a sociological question to ask you about centaurs. How do humans or other races fit into their lives? Both in a general sense of life, platonically, and romantically? Sorry if you’ve answered this before.

Thank you! It always blows my mind that I've been puttering away in my little corner of the internet with my horse people for this long!

I've covered a couple different specific situations in my cultures; re platonic and romantic? but for the most part is it boils down to that romantic would probably be rare and boil down to individual choices for how they approach it? But for platonic I have sort of covered a lot of platonic relationships just from the standpoint that basically all my centaur cultures have a deep societal tie to another race. At first it was a lot of convenience- a way to get around the difficulties of centaur bodies getting in the way of certain ways of life, but at this point I just do it cause it's lovely to me!

Like the merchants build their cities with the dwarves and they both benefit from the dwarves engineering and centaur's strength and mobility re:trade. The centaurs easily manage huge farms, trade networks, and logging infrastructure on their strength and speed but benefit from dwarves (and a small portion of other bipeds) being better set up for building (try to imagine a centaur making a roof, it's vexed me for a year now..) and generally engineering wizzes so it's a mutually beneficial relationship to entwine their cultures in the main Merchant City

Obviously my Riders are wholly entwined with their biped family as I've talked extensively about in.. too many posts probably haha

but then my very lightly covered Mountain folk have a different, almost religious relationship with the Forest Giants in which the relationship between their two cultures is separate other than the spiritual importance they hold with each other. The giants live approximately 300 years but are very slow, sedate creatures who prize a life of peace and telling stories over all else. So the centaurs almost view them as minor deities and the giants keep and love the stories their fiery little companions entrust to them.

As you can tell, I really love building all these races and cultures and then mashing them together and see what comes out! I find it makes the world feel more real and lived in when I'm not only thinking about how a culture would work and operate, but also how they interact with their neighbors! What's their main export and how does that shape their life and relations?? These are the questions I get LOST in so thank you for asking :D

#asked and answered #centaurs #riders #mountain folk #merchants #I REALLY NEED TO COME UP WITH NAMES #but I have commitment problems #man I can't even get into the other merchant connections #they also work with my version of elves #in their logging operations #and their network of mail delivery taurs have a whole seperate thing with harpies #I LOVE CONNECTING CULTURES #in ways that aren't fighting!

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discotitsposts · 20 days

Text

You’re lucky you’re cute

reader and reid flirting at the party of a mutual friend

she/her pronouns used

some mature themes and choice words used. overall supposed to be lighthearted and silly

i love this photo so much

You were getting ready for a party a good family friend of yours was hosting. You had known David Rossi since you were a little kid and it’s rumored you were somehow related. Rossi treated you like his own and had been there for you your whole life. He had even helped you out of a few legal jams you’d found yourself in high school.

He had seen you first learn to walk, started school, hugged you while you cried on his expensive suit when you went through your first breakup, and graduate high school. Now you were going through academy training to work at the FBI. You wanted to be just like David.

You had never met anyone on his team in the BAU except Hotch. He had told you about everyone though. You were most excited to meet Penelope she sounded like a ray of sunshine. You were very intrigued by the mysterious Dr. Spencer Reid. He sounded very interesting. According to Rossi he could read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory. How amazing is that? Being a bit of a smarty pants yourself you definitely wanted to talk to him.

You had also learned he was apparently wildly handsome from what some girls at the academy had said. Though you’d never seen a photo of him, he sounded fantastic.

On the drive to Rossi’s mansion you listened to your favorite music. Singing every lyric to kill your nerves. You parked and it seemed everyone else had already arrived.

You ring the doorbell and Rossi opens it. When he sees you he smiles proudly and yells “Principessa! Sei bellissima!” He hugs you and brings you in to meet the team.

“You know Aaron, this is JJ, Emily, this is Derek Morgan.” You shake each persons hand as he says their name.

“Ah, the infamous Derek Morgan.” You say. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Pleasures all mine, gorgeous.” Derek winks at you. Emily punches his arm. “Leave her alone weirdo.” She scolds.

A brightly dressed woman with beautifully styled blonde hair runs into the room carrying two wine glasses and speaking excitedly.

“Is she here yet? Oh hi!!” She pulls you into a big hug.

“You must be Penelope! I’ve heard so much about you. All of you. What about the infamous Dr. Reid? Is he here yet?” You nonchalantly ask.

“She’s developed a little bit of a crush on our good doctor.” Rossi spills.

“I have not!” You pout, embarrassed by this very true fact.

Everyone chuckles. The doorbell chimes loudly through the foyer.

“Uh oh, it’s your future husband.” David teases.

“Keep it up and I’ll pour your vintage scotch down the drain.” You retort. Rossi puts his hands up in defeat and goes to answer the door.

“Here’s the one I want you to meet! Spencer, this is our little star of the FBI academy!” Rossi boasts. Dr. Reid smiles and waves at you. You reach your hand out to shake his and he frowns. They were right. He’s literally so handsome I can barely think. You think. Barely.

“I don’t shake hands. Too many germs. It’s actually safer to kiss.” He tells you.

“Ok, come here then.” You reach out and pucker your lips. Spencer slowly backs away and clears his throat.

“Oh my god, wait no I was joking.” You quickly attempt to retrace what you said. Ever so embarrassed you quickly change the subject. Spencer smiles shyly.

“Anyways, um David told me you have an eidetic memory. I think that’s really fascinating. I actually couldn’t wait to meet you and have a conversation with you. I really really want to get to know more about you! Not that I was obsessed with you before even meeting you, definitely not the case. That would be weird. You’re really cool, I mean you seem cool because how would I know that. I never met you before. Although I was expecting more of a mad scientist look to be honest. You’re really attractive though, I mean your face is scientifically perfect I mean… you know what I’ll be right back” You ramble on and realize you’re embarrassing yourself. It’s not your fault. When you look at Spencer’s face your brain goes to mush.

You excuse yourself and try to run away to the safety of a nearby restroom. Someone grabs hold of your wrist despite the estimated germ count.

“I’d love to get to know you too.” Spencer’s smiling at you.

“You don’t think I’m a crazy rambler?” You ask, worriedly.

“I’m a bit of a rambler myself.” He chuckles and leads you to a nearby couch. You two end up talking for over an hour about everything. He tells you about his mother, his life in Vegas, and how he’s banned from multiple casinos which made you laugh so hard. You tell him stories of Rossi when you were growing up. The time Rossi had choked on some of his pasta when babysitting you and had spat it out through his nose. This makes Spencer crack up.

“Guys look.” Morgan motions to you two talking and laughing. Everyone else at the party looks over.

“I had a feeling they would get along.” Hotch breaks into a smile. Rossi however is scowling.

You leave to refill your root beer and David walks over to Spencer.

“Hey Rossi, she’s really fun to talk to. Thank you for inviting me tonight. I’m having so much fun.” Spencer smiles up at him.

Rossi plasters on a fake smile. “Are you?” Spencer nods happily. Rossi’s face grows serious and he leans in, “Good, because if you hurt her, just remember, I would know exactly how to get away with murder.” Rossi smiles at Spencer and pats his back and walks back to the party. Spencer swallows nervously.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He whispers to himself.

“Wasn’t planning on what?” You walk back in and hand him an extra root beer.

“Nothing. Thanks.” Spencer smiles and opens his root beer.

“So tell me more about when you got kidnapped by a cult leader?” You ask eagerly.

“Well this guy, his name was Benjamin Cyrus. We infiltrated his cult by pretending to be child protective services. Me and Emily got caught in the middle of crossfire. SWAT shot at them, they shot back, and put us all in danger.” He tells you everything about that case. You watch in awe at the way he talks. “Rossi actually brought them fried chicken with a microphone bug in the bucket.” Spencer laughs recalling the silly detail.

“Mmm sounds delicious.”

Rossi has been keeping his eye on you two. You look really happy but he likes having Spencer terrified of him. Your back is to Rossi and when Spencer makes eye contact. Rossi points at you and then Spencer and makes a cutting motion on his throat. This makes Spencer nervous. You notice him turn pale and turn around. You see Rossi is just playing cards with Aaron.

Penelope goes around passing out liquor to everyone. “Bottles for everyone!” She cheers over and over slurring her words. Morgan wrangles her to sit back down, stumbling, also intoxicated. You down your bottle and Spencer watches in shock.

You get crazier and Spencer goes to put the bottle Penelope had handed him, back in the kitchen. You’re dancing or trying to anyway. Spencer accidentally bumps you and you pull him down with you. The bottle in his hand breaks and splashes all over you both. Rossi hears a loud crash and comes into the kitchen.

“What the hell happened in here!” Rossi shouts noticing the red liquid trickling everywhere and you, in a now-red stained dress.

“We fell.” You and Spencer say at the same time.

You giggle, “Jinx!”

“You know the origin of the jinx was actually-“

“Clean this up brainiac!” Rossi cuts him off and hands Spencer a sponge.

“Yes sir.” Spencer falls to his knees and starts scrubbing. You notice the room felt hotter as he did so. Was it the weather or the sight of Spencer working hard?

“I’m sorry you got red wine all over you. You looked really nice. Not that you don’t look nice anymore. You look beautiful. I just feel bad your clothes got stained now.”

“Of all the days to wear a white dress. You’re lucky you’re cute Dr. Reid.”

You pick up a different sponge and help him clean.

“You don’t need to help.” He starts.

“It was partly my fault. Plus I know he’s gonna come in here and try to see if he can see his reflection in the tile. If he can’t,” You make a cracking sound and air-motion bending something, Spencer presumes to be, his neck if the red wine doesn’t come up.

“The guys so rich he can afford someone to professionally clean.” Spencer laughs at this.

“I know! One time when I was seven I accidentally spilled some jam and he told me if I didn’t clean it, all the jam in the world would disappear and I could never eat it ever again.”

Spencer opens his mouth in shock, “That is so mean!”

“It worked though.” You say while scrubbing the floor harder. He laughs so loud. Something he noticed he hadn’t done in a long time.

You decide to push his buttons a little since practically none of the wine got on him. You flick some water and soap at him.

“Hey!” He splashes you with some water back.

You stand up and discreetly grab the water sprayer on the sink and turn it on full blast. Spencer yells and with no way to defend himself, tries to stop the water with his hands. Penelope and Morgan run in and you spray them. Everyone’s laughing so hard you don’t see Emily come up behind you with a bucket of water. She throws it on you and you scream.

“ITS COLD!”

Hotch and Rossi walk in and shake their heads in disbelief.

“I’m disappointed in you all,” Hotch starts. Everyone stops and fearfully looks at him. “for not including me in the fun!” He grabs the water sprayer from you and splashes Rossi. While you’re all fooling around you notice a groundbreaking discovery. Spencer’s lilac purple shirt is completely see through and soaked. His nipples are even hard from the cold water. Hot damn.

You show up behind him and squeeze his hand and pull him to one of the bedrooms. You both lean in and kiss softly. You attack his lips with kisses and soon the kisses mesh together and become messier. He’s moaning into your mouth while you attempt to rip his shirt off.

“Wait.” He stops you. You pull away confused. “If Rossi’s upset about some red wine won’t he be more upset if we get… you know what on the bed?”

“Cum?” You ask. Spencer makes a disgusted face at your choice of words. “Nah only if he comes through with a black light.”

“No I meant the…stains.” He points at your dress, his face completely red.

“Oh this?” You motion to your now red dress. You reach behind you and untie your dress, letting it fall to the ground. You stand in front of him completely bare. Good thing you chose to not wear anything under it this evening.

You start to hum ‘Summertime Sadness’ while you stalk towards him. When you push him back on the bed you hear a loud knock at the door.

“AHHHHHHHH” Spencer screams while covering his crotch with a blanket. You simply pick your soaked dress off the ground and sloppily put it back on. Rossi continues pounding his fist on the door.

“Tie me.” You command.

“Huh?” Spencer looks up confused and disoriented. You motion to the back of the dress and Spencer ties a cute bow with the strings. His nimble fingers moving as quickly as they’ll allow. He thinks Rossi’s fist might soon break through the door. You calmly walk to the door and carefully turn the knob.

“Hello.” You smile sweetly.

He simply crosses his arms and glares at Spencer. “Both of you, out. Now. I don’t even want to think about what you were thinking of doing in my guest bedroom young lady.” He wags his finger at you. When Spencer stands up to leave, Rossi stops him with his hand.

“Remember what I said I’d do if you hurt her. She’s like a daughter to me.”

“I-I-I won’t David, I was actually going to ask your permission. If I ma-maybe could take her on a date?” Rossi’s eyebrows raise at Spencer’s request, as if to say, tell me more. “I think she’d enjoy a film fest, they’re playing some old monster movies down at the drive in, some are in Russian, but that’s alright because I could translate to her. I’ll have her home by 11:30 I promise.” Spencer’s stumbling over his words nervously.

Rossi bursts out laughing, “Kid she doesn’t live with me anymore. She’s an adult. You don’t need my permission. Hope you two have fun. I was only worried about my sheets!” He runs to the bed fixing the creases you two had made.

After that he asked you if you’d like to go, of course you said yes. That Saturday night you two had so much fun and fell in love even more.

the end :)

pls pls tell me some of u thought this was even a little bit funny

actually pls tell me if u enjoyed this at all

i’m laughing so hard writing the part about his nipples help

fun fact when i wrote the part about reader wearing a white dress i was listening to this

#ms when i procrastinate #Spotify #criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mgg x reader

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mtchacffinz · 11 months

Text

to be loved for you

prompt!!! Dan Heng never dealt with jealousy. He learns bitterly that sometimes, he can't deal with it rationally!

content!!! SFW, gn! reader, fluff, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, first kiss, clingy! Dan Heng

note!!! I love him too much. So far, all he's been getting from me is fluff 💔 frankly, i cant muster any freaky-freaky stuff with this man 🤔 got anything? my asks are open 🩷

To be someone who relied on relations by circumstance, you would always cherish each and every one of those who cross your path. May they be old and wise, or young and restless— Greeting them with the brightest smile, they'd always find themselves enamoured by your energy. Maybe this is why you attract so many people? Dan Heng was aware of that. He never spoke up about it, though. After all, he was one of the many who was caught bulls eye with each strum of his heart.

He knew you were capable of fending off threats yourself. He knew you were somebody who could defend someone from harms way.. and he especially knew just how gentle and kind you treat everybody.

Oh, what is he doing? Sulking all by himself in the archives. Dan Heng's thoughts ran rampant the past minutes. This happens when he's alone or sitting idly by. The poor man's thoughts catch up to him leaving him disgruntled. The thing is, you could always see it in his face.

You've been out and about for a while. He misses you, you know. Not that he would admit! Dan Heng's stubborn, just like that. He's definitely not mulling over how you're attention has been elsewhere, either. He doesn't mind. You have the freedom to do what you want! Just leave him sulking here in the archives unattended, it's okay.

The teal eyed prince clicks his tongue. That chatty, flirty, touchy writer. At first, Dan Heng thought that he was quite a man. The writer guy was nice and respectful with a golden gaze for things that were held high. That said, the Author quickly took interest in you.

He was never one to be possessive. Why should he? You're not even in a relationship. But sometimes, as soon as the guys hands find their way towards yours, intertwining in a clasp, something in him dims. Suddenly, his eyes can't leave your figure. It was your smile again, and Dan Heng's not at the receiving end of it.

You're not on the express today, either. A shame. Seriously, that guys been hogging you all week! What's up with that? Don't even get him started on "(Y/n), my muse. Accompany me today?" bullcrap! It's nothing but a sappy excuse to get into your pants so bad! Seriously, the absurdity. Dan Heng shakes off the thoughts before they continue. Did you know? Just by his gaze alone, someone could freeze in their place— like daggers against their back.

"Hmm? Mr. Ferr, are you okay?"

"It's nothing, my sweet, I strangely caught a shiver in my spine.." the author, Ferr, replied calmly.

"Okay. So about your first draft.."

Draft this, draft that, can't he got an editor instead?!

Irk marks basically float up his head just thinking about what they're talking about right now. Can you blame him? He's been neglected.

Dan Heng slaps himself, hard.

Woah. He's getting way ahead of himself. Him? Neglected? In what way? Again, it's not like you're both in a relationship. It's not like he's entitled to your affection in any way. Dan Heng really needs to calm down. Lately, all he's been doing is updating the archives. He's also learned of what you will be traveling for next, and added data with a note addressed to you as well. His calloused hands were flipping through various pages all day, pulling apart scrolls and wiping away holograms.

His thoughts become strangely quiet. His presence was like frost.. constant. A little chilly. He starts to fiddle with his fingers, his gloves, and his nails.

He really misses you a lot.

Can you come back soon?

Dan Heng sighs. He stands up with his impeccable posture as usual. Those arms held scrolls and books, and puts them back where he got them from. At this point, he's zoned out. He exits the Archives, strolling near the parlor car. Light footsteps echo throughout the space with Dan Heng taking in the air of tranquility within the express; It seemed like everyone had their own agenda today.

Well, except for one.

"Dan Heng," Himeko's sweet, gentle voice called out for him. The boy turned towards her, a little surprised. She smiles, and beckons him to sit with her. Her silky locks framing perfectly on her face, she put a stray strand behind her ear. "Come, I have coffee to share."

Dan Heng was indeed in dire need of indulgence. Without hesitation, he walked over to the red head and sat down. He forgot how comfortable the sofa was.. his nerves began to relax. Himeko starts to pour the hot beverages into elegant coffee cups, befitting if her style. It was comfortable silence, the stars glistened into glass windows— reflecting the beauty of life. Himeko seems to have noticed his aloof vibe, joining him to stare at the stars. Opening her lips, Himeko starts.

"You've been busy for a while."

"Being an archivist is a lot of work, huh?"

"I have."

"It's fine." The gentle lady can't help but chuckle. He's so dry. This only confirms her hypothesis. That daunting look on his figure may intimidate some, but not Miss Himeko. Never Miss Himeko. She doesn't want to expose her hidden agenda now, but she just can't wait to run her mouth. After all, Dan Heng's been down the weather and it's very obvious as to why.

"(Y/n) wanted me to prepare these for you. Enjoy them." She takes a sip. His expression softened. Dan Heng can't help but think bitterly. It'd be lovely if they were her to prepare these herself, but the teal eyed prince quickly take back the thought.

"I'm thankful.. but why? Is there an occasion? I don't seem to recall any." He speaks in a cautious manner. The woman only sighs, a palm on her cheek.

"Be honest with me, Dan Heng." Her tone quickly changed. Now her eyes are staring into his. Like it was rummaging through his soul. Dan Heng's feet were cold. He couldn't contest her gaze, so he averts his eyes. Himeko frowns at this, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Your eyes betray you greatly."

He was a little taken aback. His eyes? He was never expressive. He was sure he'd been called at least poker faced and stoic before.. Dan Heng's brows narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

Himeko only chuckles, dismissing her last claim. "I'll tell you what. They'll be here soon.. and they're going to leave just as quickly." She adds the last statement with dramatic disdain before the elegant lady takes a sip once again. Dan Heng's stomach drop. Ah.. he's lost the appetite to even finish his mug. Himeko continues. "Ferr is taking them to a space station for one of his projects. Given the current circumstances, they have no reason to refuse."

His face scrunched in annoyance upon hearing the name again. Mr. Ferr this, Mr. Ferr that! He's getting sick of him. Taking (Y/n) on a space ship? How long will that take? Is it some sort of rendevous? A date?

..will you come back?

"i don't think that decision befalls to us. (Y/n) is capable of making decisions.."

"I don't want them to go."

"..on their own because— wait, what?"

Himeko chuckles dryly. "I don't want (Y/n) to go, you know? It's selfish thought, I know. But, it's good to be selfish once and a while now, right?"

That was a half baked lie. First of all, Himeko fully supports what (Y/n) wants. But Ferr.. isn't exactly known for his patience. Himeko knows full well as soon as (Y/n) steps in the spaceship— he'd pull something like a proposal! A profession, a deal! She's not stupid, Himeko is far from dense. The Scientist knows that the Author has a huge thing for you, and it shows. And knowing Dan Heng? He'd just nod along albeit against it. She can't just stand here and let them distance each other! Himeko's seen it.. that prying gaze of a distraught, pining lover.. the watchful eyes of a lovestruck persona. The only way to get a stubborn man to act, is through tremendous pressure!

Dan Heng's lips pursed.

"And you want me to.."

"You don't have to, really."

"But.. if it will benefit them, should we encourage it? After all, they're energetic and knows their way with words. There must be some sort of good reasoning behind his invitation."

"I don't know. Do you want them to go?"

"I.." Dan Heng couldn't finish his sentence. He couldn't form a response at all. Does he want you to go? If you would enjoy yourself, he'd love to allow it.. If you'd return with a smile on your face, tell him all about what happened, he'd love to receive you with utmost sincere..

Even if it took atleast a hundred years for you to return to him.

...Hundred years his ass! You will not spend a hundred years with that man!

"If (Y/n) wants to, I personally don't see why not." Dan Heng's thoughts actively contrasted his responses. A stubborn man.. Himeko sighs, an apologetic smile on her lips. Finally backing away, the lovely lady puts down her mug and sits straight.

"It's okay to be honest. After all, they.. wish for something."

Dan Heng replies quickly in a heart beat. "I will be honest, then. I want their wish fulfilled."

"Then you better greet them in tip-top shape." Himeko winks saying this, standing up to excuse herself. Dan Heng tilts his head in this, not quite sure if what the she's implying. Himeko only had that knowing smirk on her pristine face. The lady excuses herself promptly, leaving Dan Heng all by himself. The man is once again left alone with his thoughts, except this time, he has new material to work with.

"Great..." He huffs bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just.. splendid." God, his head hurts. He's tired and he's drowsy. At this point, he doesn't find anything of urgency at the moment— only thinking about grasping that sudden warmth the sofa beneath him exerts. Dan Heng would like to find peace of mind at least once in a while. Both that in mind, his eyes find their way to the Parlor ceiling, half lidded and tired.

Slowly, his breathing calms down.. and slowly, his eyes drift closed, consciousness slipping away from his grasp.

Slowly.. the darkness embraced him, and his body rested in slumber.

You stand a little surprised.

After all, Dan Heng was casually sitting upright— his eyes closed. Is he napping? Is he okay? You're not sure, and you're concerned. Frankly, you were supposed to be here for him— feeling that he deserves at least an apology that you haven't been getting back to his messages in a while. But looking at the sight.. he looks like he's accompanied at the moment.

Such a hard working guard. The guard of the express, the unmatched Archivist of the Nameless.. the one who would always hold your heart gently. You swore if he blew air on your figure, you'd crumble immediately. The only one who'd sway your heart. That's how much power he holds, his whole fingers wrapped around your being with an invisible string keeping you binded to him.

You curb a grin. Strolling near your quarters, you pick up something warm. A blanket. You envelop his stature in a comfortable tuck, pausing for a moment to take in the melancholic state Dan Heng's exhibiting. The handsome prince's eyes fluttered closed, lips slightly apart. If he's sitting upright sleeping, then he must be atleast tired enough to sleep but still be on his feet.

But he doesn't know that, he doesn't need to.

"Ah.." was all Dan Heng could muster. You look back at him in a awe, but quickly recovered. You didn't remove his hands on your wrist, you held onto them instead. The archivists eyes softened, his brows relaxing. You attempt to give him a smile, defusing the tension.

Your sightseeing was cut short when Dan Heng started to stir, his eyes fluttering open. It was for a short moment, the first those greyish teal eyes found their way towards yours.. and the way they slightly widened upon meeting gazes with you, Dan Heng's slender, warm fingers slowly snuck their way toward your wrist; apprehending their movements further. Dan Heng held onto you like you were unreal, like you were unbelievable. Oh, he looks stricken. He looks.. almost as surprised as you. Dan Heng doesn't say anything yet, the blanket that was once on him fell off just a little while ago.

"Hey. Sorry. It looks like I woke you up.." You offer an apologetic smile. He quickly shakes his head at this, responding to you in haste.

"No.. no. Don't apologize."

"I have a lot of apologizing to do."

"No, you.." before he could finish, he cuts himself off. Why must he be so accepting? He keeps brushing his feelings aside, and before he knows it, he utters something he doesn't even mean. No, he's not okay. No, it's not fine. You upset him greatly. He couldn't focus on anything because you weren't answering his messages. Your phone was unreachable.

You had Dan Heng worried sick. What if something happened to you? You reckless, Trusting, thick skulled—

"Everything good?"

Your voice immediately snaps him out of his thoughts. Dan Heng let's out a small breath, his hands still clutching yours. He was still sitting down, and you were towering over him. God.. just by your gaze alone, he's already so full. If you could just stay with him a little longer, he feels like this churning in his stomach would go away soon. He wants you so bad, he needs you so bad.. he doesn't want you to let go anytime soon.

To your surprise, Dan Heng himself removed his hold on you. His movements were slow and languid, like a flow of water within the rivers. Moving in chorus, mellifluous.. elegantly. You can't take your eyes off him at all. Dan Heng clung to your waist. His warm body enveloped your lower half, nuzzling deep into your stomach. You let out a surprised yelp.

Suddenly, your face is hot. Your stomach was dancing with abundant butterflies, and you don't know where to put your hands. As if the archivist could read your mind, his hands led yours into his head, fingers entangling itself into those dark locks. They were so soft.. so warm and lovely. Your hands run through his hair gently— cherishing just how close he is to you at this moment. What's up with him? He seems to be a little more laid back.

Dan Heng shifts in his place. That's when he finally looks up at you. His arms around you, eyes looking directly at yours. You could see his expression.. eyes soft. Gentle. A slight pout— face flushed. It looks like he wants to say something, and it's still processing in that pretty head of his.

Dan Heng's hold on you tightens, you didn't fail to notice. He wants to be selfish for once. Let him be selfish for once. Just once. With a small breath and a soft tone, he finally utters.

"Don't go."

It was getting harder and harder to calm your heart down, and that didn't get any better.

Your heart immediately melts, and your knees almost gave out. What? Go where? Has the rumours already spread? Whatever it was, it's not happening. Especially if he asked you, it's already set in stone. "I won't. Not anywhere." You respond tenderly. Dan Heng's eyes lit up. You swore his fingers even twitched just a little bit. A little more after, his face suddenly scrunched. The archivists' frame was decorated with blazing hues of red. Whatever he's thinking seems to strain him so. Not even bothering to give you time to further analyze, he stands up from his seat, arms still around you. This time, you have no idea what'll he do. Dan Heng's eyes averted yours, hesitantly taking a step closer. My.. your palms are starting to sweat. This is the effect of anticipation.

When he pulled back from you, Dan Heng quickly analyzed your expression to see even a tinge of displeasure. Now you.. face decorated with the hue of peony, looked awe struck. Absolutely enchanted.. bewildered, blown. Gathering your nerves to work back up again, your eyes slowly trailed back to his nervous ones: awaiting your reaction.

"..You can hit me after this." Dan Heng suddenly says, making you tilt your head in confusion. So carefully, he cupped your cheeks. Whatever that was you were going to say was caught in your throat. There was a bubbling feeling in your chest, waiting to pop open; and as soon as his lips brushed past yours, it popped so beautifully vibrant it blinded your vision for but a moment. As your eyes fluttered closed and his eyes half lidded, he greedily drank the sight of you from his eyes.

Dan Heng's eyes widened once you grabbed his collar— smashing your lips back to his. The kiss you've given him burned with fervor, impatient, like you've been yearning for more. You were starved of his lips— like a lone hawk hunting for aeons.

Now that the opportunity presented itself, might as well make the most of it.

The archivist had a hard time keeping up with you, keeping the both of you straight by holding the small of your back. Your arms were in Dan Heng's chest— eagerly taking him in yours. By the time you both ran out of air, you were standing in amidst the parlor car— with the stars accompanying the moment being the sole witness. You could hear Dan Heng's heartbeat whilst you rest your head on his chest. Clutching his jacket, it was tempting to go for another one again.

There was silence. A lot of words hung out in the air. The first to cut through the already light air around you was you.

"For how long?"

Dan Heng breathed heavily, burying his nose into your hair. He thinks about it for a long time before finally answering.

"Quite a while."

i went a little overboard sorry! (⁠●⁠´⁠⌓⁠`⁠●⁠) edited it a lil bit

#dan heng fluff #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr fluff #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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heavenlyhischier · 8 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 - 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 7.6k (i got very carried away im sorry)

summary: after months of feeling like you've lost quinn, he ends up losing you. will the two of you find your back to each other?

warnings: angst, self-destructive tendancies, drinking, cursing, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut, shower sex, fingering, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex (use protection guys), teeny bit of a praise kink, brief breath play, please let me know if you see any mistakes. i finished this at 2 am and my vision was a little blurry at that point

note: this is part of my follower celebration! i'm so glad i finally wrote about the future captian of the vancouver canucks please guys im begging you.

Two years ago, you had met Quinn Hughes through a mutual friend, and he’s been a part of your life ever since. In the beginning, the two of you took things slow, wanting to truly get to know each other before getting into a relationship. Quinn wanted to make sure that his intense schedule that involved him being gone for long periods of time wasn’t going to overwhelm you, or make you feel alone. You wanted to make sure that, after all you had gone through, Quinn was going to remain a man of his word and make your relationship work despite the many odds that came with his job. And he did, at first.

For the first year and a half that you were with Quinn, he was texting, calling, facetiming as often as he could when he was gone. If he wasn’t doing something that related to his commitment to the hockey team, he was talking to you in some way. He would send you pictures of the places he would visit with short captions of how he wished you were there with him, and you would always smile at them and tell him that you would be, one day. Though, a few months ago, those texts started to become less frequent, and when you did get them, they sounded forced, almost like they had been rehearsed.

For a while, you tried to reason with yourself. Telling yourself that he was just getting busier, and the stress was getting to him. You tried to understand just how demanding and exhausting his job must be, so you brushed off his deteriorating communication. Instead, you tried to hold onto the hope that when he was finally back home, things were going to go back to normal. Quinn was going to walk back through the door to your shared apartment and hold you until you fell asleep. Then, that stopped happening too.

The first time you realized that Quinn was truly pulling away from you was when he didn’t come straight home after a seven day roadie. He hadn’t even told you that he was close to home yet. You only found out because Natalie had posted a snapchat story of JT holding Owen, and you were immediately dialing your boyfriend's phone number. Your heart sank when it only rang three times before cutting to his bland voicemail message.

You remember spending the rest of that night crying into your pillow, thoughts of what you could have done to make him distance himself from you clouding your brain. You knew that hockey players had an abysmal reputation, but you have never lumped Quinn into that group of men. You’ve always thought the world of him, considering yourself lucky to have the luxury of being loved by him. This had you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. When he came home later that night, he gave you a half-assed apology and explanation followed by a string of kisses that had you melting back into him.

Though even that started to dwindle, and eventually it stopped all together. When Quinn was home in Vancouver, he rarely made the effort to spend time with you, and when he did, it was almost like he wasn’t there. His face would always be buried in his phone, or he’d be playing video games with his friends and you’d simply be sitting next to him on the couch. Quinn had stopped trying to plan dates, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone on one with him. You could barely remember the last time the two of you had shared a kiss that was more than the obligatory chaste peck on the lips before bed.

You tried to reassure yourself and ignore the aching in your chest, but the way he put as much distance as he possibly could between the two of you, the less you were able to do that. Eventually, you’d decided that enough was enough, and if it felt like you weren’t in a relationship, then you weren’t going to be in one. No matter how badly it hurt.

The thought of breaking up with Quinn made you feel like someone was holding your head under water. The panic settling into your chest as you realized that you couldn’t breathe; your lungs burning the longer you went without any air. No matter how hard you tried to break the surface and gasp for air, your head was only shoved deeper and deeper into the water until you realized that the only escape was leaving him. Leaving the man you were still in love with was the only way for you to be able to breathe again.

When he finally came home that night, he didn’t even notice you sitting at the table, his head shoved in his phone as he walked through the door. “Quinn,” Your quiet voice bounced off the walls of your home. His head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise that you were still awake at this hour, but you continued, “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” He drew out, brows knitting together in confusion as he slipped his phone into his pocket, “What’s this about?”

His eyes darted throughout the apartment, and you watched as his shoulders fell when he realized that stuff was missing from all over. Your stuff. With Quinn avoiding your home like it was, or rather you were, the plague, it gave you enough time to gather everything you’d brought over with you, and temporarily move it into a friend's apartment until you could find your own. Despite the multiple breaks you had to take because you kept breaking down, you managed to do it all in one day.

“I think you know what it’s about,” You chewed at your bottom lip, blinking rapidly to keep yourself from crying.

“Baby, I-,” He tried as he reached over the table to grab your hand, but you quickly cut him off. The chair scraped against the floor as you abruptly stood, shoving his outstretched hand away from you.

“Don’t call me that,” You spat, vision blurring from the tears, “You can’t call me that anymore.”

“What are you trying to say,” He asked, his voice breaking, and that made you angry.

How dare he act like he was hurt when all he’s been doing is hurting you? He put you in this position. He pushed you away, made you feel like he didn’t want you anymore. He did this, and he doesn’t get to act like he’s the one that’s hurting.

“I’m saying that we’re done, Quinn. I’m breaking up with you,” You asserted through the salty streams falling down your cheeks. Though the words tasted bitter as they came out, you felt a slight, very very slight, sense of relief wash over you as you said the words out loud.

Your words hung over his head as you fell into an uncomfortable silence, eyes staying trained on him as you waited for a response. He stood at the table with his palms pressed against the wood, head down as he let out a shaky breath followed by a weak question.

“What do you mean ‘Why’,” You scoffed, shooting daggers into the top of his head, “Quinn, you’ve barely said a full sentence to me in the last week. You don’t talk to me when you’re gone anymore. Hell, half the time I don’t even know you guys are back unless someone posts about it. I just- It just feels like you don’t want this anymore, and that’s okay, but what you’ve been doing isn’t.”

“No,” He breathed out, his voice small and broken as he shook his head, “No, it’s not and I’m sorry. I don’t- Fuck, Y/N, I don’t know what to say right now. I lo-“

“Please don’t,” You interrupted, tearing your gaze away from him as you choked on your own cries, “Please stop, Quinn. I can’t do it anymore. I love you so much, but it’s gotten to a point that the person I fell in love with is gone even though he’s right in front of me.”

A part of you did want him to beg you to stay, to beg you to give him another chance because he will change. He will change as long as it means he got to have you, and he couldn’t live without you. But the more logical part of you was holding the spear, and it was telling you that you were doing the best thing for you. That leaving Quinn, while it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, it was the right decision for you.

“I’ve already got all of my stuff moved out,” Your voice cut through the thick silence, “You’re not home much so it made it pretty easy.”

You couldn’t help but throw the jab in there, but it was only to cover the thinly veiled agony that was truly going on in your heart and bleeding into the rest of your body. You didn’t want Quinn to know that saying goodbye to him was like death by a thousand cuts, and so you masked the pain the only way you knew how. With anger.

“I wish you and your team the best in the rest of the season, I really do. But I think it would be better for both of us if we don’t talk after this.”

Not waiting for his response, you made a slight show to toss the key to what was now his apartment onto the table in front of him, the gentle ding of the metal hitting the wood echoing through the empty room, before walking out of the door. You’d barely made it into the elevator by the time your feelings washed over you an aggressive wave that came seemingly out of nowhere and everywhere all at once. You were thankful that the ride down to the bottom was quick and no one else joined you, and that the main lobby was only occupied by the security guard who’s more than likely seen his fair share of crying women.

That night, you went to your friend's apartment and broke down into a mess of screams, tears, and pain. She held you as you cried, held your hair as you threw up, held your hand through the shower curtain because you didn’t want to be alone. She stood by you in your most desperate time of need, and she made it her own personal goal to maim the hockey player should she ever see him again.

Quinn didn’t text or call you, but you knew that he wasn’t doing the greatest for the first few weeks after your breakup. Petey and Brock had both called to check on you once they had figured out what had their teammate in the state he was in. They asked how you were doing, and not-so-subtly mentioned that Quinn wasn’t any better off than you were. Though, they quickly learned to not mention him unless they wanted to listen to you call them obscene words before ending the call and ignoring them for a few days. You knew their intentions were good, but you didn’t want to hear about how “awful” Quinn was.

If he had acted like he cared about you half as much as his friends were telling you he did, maybe you would have made the effort to ask about him. If he loved you half as much as they said he did, but he didn’t. And he’s made that clear to you. Of course you know you told him that you thought it best if the two of you didn’t talk anymore, but you had secretly hoped he wouldn’t listen. That he would be calling you and texting you, begging you to come back. Telling you how in love he was with you, but it was complete and utter radio silence.

Eventually, you were able to pick yourself back up enough to find your own apartment. Leila had insisted that you staying with her was never going to be a problem, but you knew you couldn’t stay there forever. You needed to try and move on from him, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go of him yet. You needed to try and find yourself again, and you couldn’t do that sleeping in the guest bed of your best friend and her boyfriend's apartment.

Leila’s worried eyes were practically carved into your skull at this point, but you didn’t blame her. She’s had to pick you up, physically and emotionally, more times than she had anticipated when you initially turned up at her door with puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Though she should have realized how deeply hurt you were the fourth time she held you after you had woken up thinking that your breakup was a nightmare, only to realize that it was reality that haunted your dreams.

No matter how hard you tried to forget about Quinn Hughes, the city you lived in was as riddled with memories and reminders of what once was. He was on every street you walked, in every store window you passed by. He was everywhere, and it made you feel like there was a shard of glass piercing your heart, unrelenting and unmoving. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the man who had torn your heart in two, and you were willing to do anything to do that.

The bar air that clung to your body was sticky with alcohol and sweat, but you didn’t seem to mind as you moved your hips to the beat of whatever terrible remix they were playing. The unnamed man behind you had his hands planted firmly on your waist, but you didn’t pay him any mind as you let yourself dance. The alcohol swimming through your veins aiding your ability to forget about all of the hurt you had yet to heal from.

For the last three months, you often found yourself in some sort of bar or club to drink your pain away. It was cliche, but you hadn’t stumbled upon any other outlet that allowed you to forget about the constant ache in your chest. Leila had tried to guide you towards less self-destructive ways of healing, but you didn’t listen to her. This way was guaranteed to ease your heartbreak, at least for the night and that was all you needed.

“I’m Wren,” The man yelled into your ear, an off-putting smirk slapped on his less than desirable features.

Your mouth dropped open, the blood pounding in your ears covering the music entirely. It was too close. His name was too similar, and it made the one thing you were trying to forget flood itself into your head. Images of Quinn and memories of the way his voice sounded pushed their way to the forefront mind, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

Without another word, you pushed the man away from you and scrambled towards the exit of the bar. Your vision turned bleary and clouded, from the tears or the alcohol, you weren’t sure. Ignoring the worried calls from strangers you shoved past, you rushed out into the crisp Vancouver air.

You stumbled over into the mostly empty alleyway, clutching at your chest as your back came in contact with the brick wall. You were aware of the many lingering eyes on you, but the feeling that was consuming you made their attention appear miniscule and irrelevant. All you could think about was Quinn and how he never even fought to be with you. How he gave you up so easily.

Leila’s boyfriend had seen you run out of the bar, and immediately darted towards the bathroom so he could grab her. With the help of a few random women, he was able to get her attention much faster, and she was rushing out of the bar and leaving him to close their tab. Leila heard you before she saw you, and that alone made her chest burn for you.

“Honey,” She delicately approached you, her voice calm and collected, “What happened?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but nothing was coming out but strangled breaths and mangled cries. Despite having seen you in this position more times than she could count, it broke Leila’s heart all the same. She maneuvered your body so that she could pull you into her lap, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on the ground in a dirty alley. She began rubbing soothing circles on your back and instructed you to try and follow her breathing pattern.

Once you were able to catch your breath, you let out an almost incoherent, “Why didn’t he come back?”

Leila was able to calm you down enough to get you back to your apartment nearly an hour later. She kept insisting that you just come home with her, but you already felt guilty enough for intruding so much on her personal life. You knew she didn’t mind, but you did, so you managed to convince her that you would be okay by yourself, and that you would call her if you needed her. Though, she wasn’t the person you ended up calling.

“You have reached the voicemail box of Quinn Hughes. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“I hate you, Quinn,” You started, your voice already raspy from the moments prior, “I hate you so much for making me believe that you ever loved me back the way that I loved you. I thought we were forever, you know. That’s what you told me. That we would get married and have our own family, but we saw how that turned out. It was never going to be me, was it?

“I just wished you would have had the balls to tell me that you fell out of love with me, if you ever did in the first place, or found someone else or whatever the fuck happened. It would have made it a hell of a lot easier knowing that I, or you, did something to make you not stop loving me. It’s just- The worst fucking part about all of this is, is that I’m still so in love with you that it physically hurts me to be without you, but that doesn’t matter does it?

“Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I guess I'm just trying to give myself closure so that I can really move on from you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop loving you, but I’m going to try.”

Hanging up the phone, you threw it onto your couch and let out a gut wrenching sob that ripped through the stillness of your apartment. You fell to your knees and let everything you had been bottling up for the last three months bleed out of you. The world spun around you, your lungs burning as you gasped for air. Your fingers grasped at anything they could possibly wrap themselves around in an attempt to keep yourself steady.

You felt as if you were back to square one, and you hated that all it took was some man having a name that too closely resembled his. It was stupid, you thought, blatantly pathetic how easily you were thrown back into the fire you had done your best to crawl out of. You had almost healed all of the cuts Quinn’s treatment of you had left in your heart, but now they were gaping open once again.

Minutes passed by, or maybe hours you weren’t sure, and you had fallen into a limp ball on the floor of your living room. You had no energy to move from the spot as silent tears escaped their previous confinement. You stared lifelessly at the ceiling above you, mind too tired to fight off the dangerous thoughts floating about inside your head. It was only when sleep finally graced you that you were able to escape the pain of what-ifs.

The following morning, you were rudely awoken by someone aggressively and relentlessly knocking on your door. The sound ricocheted across the nearly empty walls of your apartment, and worsened the already excruciating pounding in your head. Pushing your tired body off the floor, you let out a quiet groan as nausea rippled from your core.

You passed by a mirror that Leila insisted you hang, and you outwardly cringed at your appearance. Your face swollen from last night's breakdown, and your makeup was smudged all across your face. Needless to say, your unwarranted guest was not going to get a presentable version of you.

Not bothering to check the peephole, you pulled the door open and time froze all around you. Quinn stood there with his hands in his pockets, head covered by the hood of his blue Canucks hoodie. His face was decorated with overgrown facial hair and deep set bags had found places underneath his eyes. Truly, he looked awful, but the sight of him in front of you made the already growing ball of nausea burst.

Quinn watched as your eyes simultaneously widened and hardened with an undetectable emotion, but he’s sure he could guess what it was. When he had woken up that morning, the last thing he’d expected to see was a missed call from you, let alone a voicemail. He’d listened to it a dozen times before calling Petey, asking him what he should do.

After a lecture that closely resembled the one he had already gotten from his teammate months prior that was followed by words of encouragement, he set off to your apartment. He only knew your address because Brock had accidentally let it slip when they passed by it one night. Truthfully, Quinn was expecting you to not answer the door or to slam it shut in his face when you saw him. That he was prepared for, but what he did not prepare himself for was you darting to the bathroom.

He stood in the hallway, conflicting emotions battling with each other as the sound of you retching reached his ears. He wanted to follow after you and comfort you like he’d done many times before, but he also didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable than you undoubtedly were already. He opted to step inside and wait for you in the living room, preparing himself for whatever you were going to throw at him.

You were heaving into the toilet, panic running through every nerve in your body as you tried to focus on breathing rather than throwing up. The last person you had expected to show up at your door was here now, and you left him standing in the hallway. A million thoughts ran through your mind as you flushed the toilet, pushing yourself up off the floor for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.

Why was Quinn here? How was he here? You never gave him your address. Though a brief reminder that Brock knew where you lived was enough to answer that question for you, but nothing you could come up with answered why. You remember leaving him a voicemail in your drunken meltdown, but you couldn’t wrap your head around just what had gotten him to seek you out.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long, and you wondered if Quinn was still here. You’d heard the door shut, but you couldn’t figure out if the footsteps that followed were inside your apartment or in the hallway. After quickly brushing your teeth and convincing yourself that he had left, you stepped back into the living room and were proven wrong. He had settled into the spot on the couch that he chose every time if he could; closest to the kitchen. His leg was anxiously bouncing up and down, and he was biting at his fingernails.

“What are you doing here,” You called out, nails digging into the palm of your hand as a way to keep yourself grounded.

The sound of your voice had Quinn’s head turning on a swivel before he was standing and taking a few steps towards you, but he stopped when you stepped backwards. He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was already treading through very dangerous waters by showing up at your apartment unannounced, and he didn’t want to do anything to further worsen that.

He instantly registered the tortured look in your eyes because it was the same one he’s been sporting since you left. Quinn knows he’s to blame for the downfall of your relationship. He should have fought harder. He should have fought, period, but he had his own reason for letting you go.

“You called me last night,” He started.

“I was drunk,” You firmly stated, heart beating loudly in your chest, “It didn’t mean anything.” You were lying, and he knew that, too. Quinn could always tell when you were lying.

“It meant something to me,” He rushed out, “Hearing your voice- Hearing you say that you thought I never loved you ripped me to pieces. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please listen to my explanation? I know it won’t repair the damage I’ve done, but please. I was too scared before, but I’m not now.”

He rasped your name out like it was something sacred, like it held the entire world within its syllables. His eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears as they bore into your own. He could tell that your heart and brain were at war with each other by the way you kept taking sharp breaths, and your eyes kept flitting away from him.

“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m trying to move on, and hearing you out will only undo all of the work I’ve put into doing that,” You tried, turning away from him but still staying in the living room.

“I know, baby,” The nickname tumbled out before he could stop it, sending a jab to your chest, “I know, but please. I will leave you alone after, if that’s what you really want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You weighed your options in your head before letting out a hesitant, “Okay. I’ll listen, but if I want you to leave after, you’ll go?”

Your heart had won this battle, but you’re relying on your brain to save it later if need be. The sound of his approaching footsteps made the breath catch in your throat, but the feeling of his hand sliding into your own sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. Your head snapped to his own, your eyes full of anxiety and familiarity.

He gently pulled you over to the couch, dropping your hand so that you could sit as far away from as you wanted. The air was crawling with nerves from both parties, but the lack of anger radiating off of you brought him some sort of comfort as he gathered his thoughts. Though, in your defense, you could never be angry at Quinn, no matter how badly he hurt you.

“I know that no apology can fix the hurt I’ve caused you, but I am sorry. I am so sorry for pulling away from you instead of talking to you. I never fell out of love with you, ever. Not then, and not now. Do you want to know the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It isn't hockey. It isn’t money. It’s you, and that terrified me. I was so scared that I was going to screw everything up.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he cast you a stern glare and shook his head before continuing, “I never let that bother me until I overheard you talking to Leila about marriage and children, and I got scared. I started questioning if I was good enough for you. If I was even good for you. I’m gone so much with the team, and I’ve already missed so many of your accomplishments because I was on the road.

“I started thinking about us having kids. How many appointments would I miss? What if I missed the birth? What if I missed the baby’s first steps? I couldn’t imagine putting you through all of that by yourself, so I started pulling away. Was it a good idea? Absolutely not, but it made sense to me. I thought I was going to save you from heartbreak in the future, but all I did was cause it now instead.

“I didn’t call after you left because I thought I did the right thing. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but then I heard your voice this morning and I knew I had to fix it, if you’d let me. I couldn’t let you think that I never loved you, because I do. I love you so much, and I will do anything to prove that to you, should you give me the chance.”

You sat there in silence, digesting the words that had just been said to you as you let out quiet sobs. For nearly the last year, you had believed that Quinn didn’t love you, and now he was saying the exact opposite. He was begging for another chance, and that was what you had wanted, right? It still was, but the damage that was done wasn’t going to be easily fixable. You would have to start back at the beginning, and you’re not sure if Quinn was willing to do that.

“Baby,” He whispered, your silence lighting his skin on fire with nerves, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I want you to know that I meant what I said. I will do whatever it takes to fix this mess I created. Anything.”

The gears were turning in your head, trying to conjure any sort of coherent thought to tell him that you wanted this, but you were scared. You’d put so much faith and trust into Quinn, and he tore all of that down out of fear. What if he did that again?

“I want to,” You whispered, “I do, but what if you do it again? I can’t go through it all over, Quinn. I felt like I was going to die without you, and I can’t go through losing you all over again if you get scared.”

You felt his weight lift off the sofa, and before you realized what was going on, he was wedging himself in between your legs in front of you. He cupped both of your cheeks in his hands so you were looking at him, and you swear you blacked out for a second. Just because Quinn had hurt you, doesn’t mean the effect he had on you went away.

“You won’t lose me ever again, okay? My heart belongs to you. My heart beats for you. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, even if you don’t love me for the rest of yours.”

His hands were still on your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat, his pleading eyes darting all across your face. Lucky for you, your heart and your brain had linked together as you let out an almost silent, “Kiss me, please.”

And he did. Quinn’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands dropping down so he could pull you into his chest. The kiss was full of desperation and months of lost time as the two of you clung to each other. He was holding your hips so tightly that you’re fairly certain they were going to bruise, but you didn’t mind. You were pulling him into you just as desperately, afraid that he was somehow going to disappear from right in front of you.

He briefly pulled away so that he could sit on the couch, pulling you into his lap not long after. He quickly reattached his lips to yours, and he kissed you with so much fervor that it had your head spinning. You could feel some of your sadness melting away, being replaced by passion and desire for the man underneath you. Almost as if a switch had flipped within you. You shifted your hips on his lap, and a throaty moan escaped his swollen lips as he slightly threw his head back.

“Be careful with that,” He let out a breathy laugh, “You know what that does to me.”

There was a teasing glint in your eye as you spoke, “I know.”

“Fuck me,” He groaned, subtly moving your hips against him.

“If you insist,” You drew out, leaning down to ghost your lips over his neck.

He threw his head back against the couch and screwed his eyes shut as your warm breath fanned across his neck. Your eyes flicked up to his face, and you couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk form before dragging your tongue across the expanse of his neck. He let out a string of profanities as you latched your mouth onto the spot you knew would send him spiraling, but you quickly pulled away and hopped off of him.

“I need to take a shower,” You announced, a teasing tone to your voice, “I’m still gross from the bar.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, watching as you began to walk away. Only when he heard you ask if you were going to join did he jump off the couch and scramble after you. He shed his clothes as he followed you to the bathroom, leaving a trail of fabric in his wake. By the time he had reached your bathroom, you’d already turned the shower on and rid yourself of your own clothes.

“I do not deserve you,” He mumbled as his eyes raked over your naked body.

He’d already memorized every dip and curve of you, but he always treated it as if he was seeing all of you for the first time. Your body captivated him in all of the best ways, and it left Quinn breathless every time you graced him with it. He considered it a privilege to be able to bear witness to the Goddess of a woman in front of him, and he worshiped it like it was.

Despite all that has happened between the two of you, you still felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with Quinn. Unlike the guys who had seen you naked before, none of them treated it the way he did. He never made you feel insecure, and he always made every other part of you feel just as loved as your body. He admired your character, and even your flaws, all the same.

“You gonna stand there or are you going to join me,” You teased as you stepped into the shower.

The water enveloped you like a welcomed hug, and you let out a sigh of relief as the stickiness from last night was washed away. You were facing towards the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back. You heard the curtain rings slide against the rod before you felt Quinn’s chest pressed against your back. You wiggled against his hardened length, and he took your teasing as a green light.

His fingers trailed up along your hip, across your waist before dancing over your breast. He made a point to slightly lift his touch so he just barely grazed your nipple, and you let out a whine when he did. His hand briefly paused when he reached your collarbone as if he was going to change his mind, but he carefully wrapped his fingers around your neck and leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” He whispered before dipping his head down and attaching his lips to your neck.

While one hand tilted your neck to give him better access, his free hand trailed down your stomach and towards your center. The knot in your stomach grew the closer he got, but he was taking his time with you. Relishing in the moment he never thought he would have again.

“Quinn,” You whimpered, “Please.”

��Please what, baby? I need you to use your words for me,” He briefly broke his contact with your neck.

“I need you to touch me, please,” You were begging him, needing him to give you the release that no other man has before.

“Good girl.”

He slid one finger into you, an almost pornagraphic moan echoing off the tiles of your bathroom. You threw your head back against his shoulder, gripping at the slick shower wall for any sort of support before your knees buckled from under you. He carefully moved his digit inside of you, stretching your walls so he could add another.

“Jesus, baby. You’re so tight,” He groaned into your ear.

“‘S because no one’s touched me- Oh fuck,” You cried out as he inserted another finger, “No one’s touched me since the last time you did.”

Quinn knew he shouldn’t be as turned on by that as he was, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that you didn’t let another man have you the way that he did only made him harder, and he didn’t think that was possible.

You were writhing against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your moans filling his ears like they were his favorite song. He moved his thumb to press against your clit, and it was then that Quinn had to use his own strength to keep you standing. He worked his fingers against you, and he’s gotten you to the finish line enough times to know that you were already just about there, so he didn’t stop.

“Oh my god,” You cried out as his thumb rubbed circles and his fingers curled inside of you, “I’m almost the-Fuck.”

“I know, pretty girl. I know,” He murmured, keeping his pace steady.

Your legs are shaking and your vision becomes spotty as the knot inside you comes undone. He captures your lips with his own as you come all over his fingers, kissing you with the same amount of passion he’d had before everything happened. He was still supporting you with the hand that was previously on your neck, but you slowly regained the strength to support yourself as you came down from your high.

“You okay,” He asked, turning you around so that the water was no longer hitting your front.

“More than okay,” You gave him a sloppy smile, still slightly dazed from your orgasm.

“Good, because that was only the beginning,” He smirked, switching places with you so he could back you into the corner of your shower.

You watched as he turned and shifted the shower head so that it was spraying against the two of you as much. You pulled your brows together in confusion as you questioned him, “What about you?”

“What about me,” He feigned confusion as he slowly fell to his knees.

“You know what,” You quietly spoke, eyes wide in anticipation as his hands gripped your thighs.

“I’m getting all I need, baby. Don’t worry,” He glanced up at you, eyes sparkling with pleasure.

His fingers trailed against your thighs that were wet with a mix of water and your own juices. Goosebumps rose in wake of his touch, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. You kept glancing down at him with your lip pulled between your teeth, your heart still rapidly beating from your orgasm only minutes ago.

Quinn spread your legs with his hands before placing feathered kisses on the inside of your thighs, eliciting a few breathless moans from you. He stopped when he got against your aching core, his breath hitting it as he spared you one more glance.

With a swift movement, he was lifting your leg over his shoulder and then he was diving into you like it was his last meal. His facial hair was tickling your inner thighs, but all it did was add to the sensation flowing through your body. His hands were gripping at your legs to not only keep you steady, but to give him something to hold on to.

He was devouring you in a way that made it seem like he was enjoying it more than you were, but you highly doubted that to be true. His tongue worked against as he led you to yet another orgasm, mouth sucking and swirling in all of the right places. You tugged on his hair as you felt the familiar fire burning in your stomach, your head hitting against the tile wall.

Your second orgasm ripped through your body, rendering you temporarily blind yet again. He carefully placed your leg back beneath you, placing open mouth kisses against your stomach as he stood leaving behind a mixture of his saliva and your cum against your skin. He attacked your lips with his own in a dizzying kiss, his hands cupping and squeezing at your breasts.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He mumbled against your lips as he placed his forehead on yours.

“I missed you too. So much, Quinn,” Your eyes became misty with tears, but you tried to push them back.

“I’m not trying to ruin the moment or anything, but thank you for giving me a second chance. I definitely don’t deserve one, but I will keep my promise and do whatever it takes to win you back.”

You pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before saying, “Well, you can start by properly fucking me.”

The softness in Quinn’s eyes darkened to something full of desire and lust, but he still managed to keep the look of pure admiration and love. His hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you into his chest and meeting your lips with a hungry kiss. You could feel him pressed against your thigh, and it made the already wet pool between your legs worsen.

“Need you to hold on to me baby. Wanna look at you,” He instructed as he pulled away, gesturing for you to wrap your arms around his neck, “Good girl.”

Quinn rubbed himself between your folds, teasing your entrance and watching your face twist in desire and want. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you and let out a mangled moan as your walls clenched around him. He paused and let you readjust to his size, doing his best to remain still and not roughly jerk his hips back.

“Move,” You whimpered, bucking your hips forward for any sort of friction, “Please move.”

With your pleading, Quinn was pulling himself nearly all the way out and slamming back in at a pace he knew you both liked. His thrusts were hard and deep, filling you in just the right way to leave you gasping for more. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on his hips to allow himself a better angle, and you swear you blacked out for a second. You were grateful for the strength he has from hockey or you’re certain you’d both be on the floor by now.

Your loud moans mixed with his own, surely filling the entirety of your apartment with the sound. A part of you hoped your neighbors couldn't hear, but a bigger part of you didn’t care. You finally had him back, and the both of you were making up for lost time. His hips snapped against your own as he brought his free hand back up to your neck, squeezing at the sides with the pressure he knew wouldn't hurt you.

You were clenching around him, sending him into a fit of blinding, white hot ecstasy. No matter times Quinn had imagined you when he fucked his own hand, it was absolutely nothing compared the real thing. Watching as your eyes screwed shut and his name fell from your lips in desperate whines was a sight he would never get tired of.

“Oh my god, Quinn,” You shakily cried out, your eyes rolling backwards and the top of your head hitting against the shower wall as he thrusted into you, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Such a pretty girl,” He praised as his hand dove between your bodies, his fingers coming to rub at the bundle of nerves, “You look so pretty wrapped around me, you know that? Fuck, you feel so good.”

You were gripping at his back as he split you open, your vision coming in and out as he rubbed at your overstimulated clit and repeatedly slammed into you. Your name was tumbling from his lips in grunts, only tightening the coil in your stomach as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You could feel the heat swirling inside you as he rammed himself into you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Quinn, I’m going to- I’m gonna,” You stuttered as he worked himself deeper, harder.

“I know, baby. Let go,” He whispered your name like it was holy and just, “Come all over my cock, pretty girl.”

His words sent you flying over the edge, your third orgasm of the night sending you into a fit of unmistakable pleasure. Waves of contractions washed over your body as Quinn fucked you through your orgasm, his own crashing over him not too far after. His thrusts became sloppy and slow as he came inside of you, his head burying itself into the crook of your neck as he let out stifled moans against the skin.

You’re not sure how long you clung to each other with him still inside you, sounds of your heavy breathing replacing the previous moans that were probably still echoing somewhere in your apartment. However, what felt like hours but was probably not even five minutes later, Quinn pulled himself out of you, guiding your still shaking leg back down and keeping your body upright.

“Time to get cleaned up, yeah,” He teased, his thumb and forefinger coming up to grab your chin.

“Good thing we’re already in the shower,” You bantered back, eyelids slowly drooping courteous of the man in front of you.

You lazily pulled Quinn back into your hold, meeting his lips for yet another searing kiss. Yet this time, there was no desperation. There was no hunger. There was only love, and hope. Hope that, despite the damage that has been caused, the two of you will return to the best version of yourselves and let yourselves be happy without worry or fear.

again, please let me know if you see any mistakes. and let me know what you think! xoxox

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes smut

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cuubism · 10 months

Text

based on THIS shitpost. nsft below the cut. inexplicably 7k.

Dream had promised Hob, since reuniting, since agreeing to see each other more often, that he would let Hob introduce him properly to human experiences. "It'll do you good," Hob had said. Dream thinks Death would agree with this also. He is now wondering, however, if this had been folly.

"I think I've given you the general rundown now," Hob says, leaning back in his chair, swirling his bottle of beer—mostly empty—idly in one hand. "The highlights. We'll be here for ages if you want to hear all of it."

Dream is surprised to realize he is curious to hear the stories of all of Hob's lovers. But he does not feel it is quite appropriate to press, no matter how open Hob has been in speaking of it. Dream is most interested, after all, in people Hob has loved, not just those he's had carnal relations with—stories of love are of much more interest to him than stories simply of desire, and Hob has already relayed these stories to him, each a glimmering jewel on the long chain of his life.

Each sticks in Dream's mind now, glittering in his peripheral vision. He cannot tell precisely what they want of him—the corners of his being are blurred, his thoughts wavering, at points clear and ringing and at others indistinct. A consequence of allowing alcohol to affect him, at Hob's bidding. It is... pleasant. Loose. Warm. Though Dream thinks, anywhere outside of Hob's flat, it would feel disconcerting instead.

It's this folly in allowing Hob to ply him with wine, perhaps, that has him saying, "Do you wish to hear of my own?"

Hob's expression sharpens. He is, perhaps, less drunk than Dream is, despite being on his fourth beer, while Dream has only had— ah. That bottle of wine is three-quarters empty. Hmm. "You mean, you want to talk about it?"

"I believe it is customary for friendship to involve a mutual sharing of stories?"

"Sure, if you want to." Hob's gaze on him is intent, curious, but still fond, always fond. "Usually you're like this." He draws his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion. "So of course I'm curious."

"Am I so reticent?" Hob is right, though. Dream can acknowledge it. He would not usually care to speak of these things. He could blame the wine, today. But.

Hob laughs. "Took me six hundred thirty-three years to get a name. You are the king of reticence." He dips his head as if bowing to this "king." "I would be honored to hear your stories, my friend."

Dream tucks his nose into his glass. He should perhaps not drink any more, but the smell is still pleasant, rich and sharp. "They are not so happy."

"Still. If you want to tell."

Dream is not like Hob. He does not have casual dalliances. Each collision was as bright as a falling star. He doesn't know if he has the strength, now, to relay all that terrible history.

Instead, he shares with Hob the early days of burning. Each of those bright, glowing moments. And glosses over the fall.

He thinks Hob sees it, though. He considers him from under his brows as Dream speaks, understanding in his eyes. Doesn't ask him about it, perhaps sensing that Dream does not have the wherewithal for telling and asking in the same evening. "Thank you," he finally says.

"Why?"

"For sharing."

Dream looks back down at his glass. It's empty again. Perhaps that is for the best. It is not often that he... shares. Particularly about this. But Hob is generous in not prying. In wanting to listen, for the simple sake of, as far as Dream can tell, understanding Dream.

When he looks up again, Hob is tapping the mouth of his beer bottle against his lips in thought. "Can I ask you something? It'll probably be utter silliness to you, though. Being this... beyond human entity that you are."

Dream's shoulders tense where they'd gone relaxed with drink and Hob's company. "Go ahead."

"Were all of your lovers women?"

And Dream relaxes again. Ah. This is just... factual. Not... digging in to his many relational failures. "I suppose. Yes."

"Is that by design, or...?"

Dream frowns. "I do not... understand."

"Well, since we've established that I'm an indiscriminate slut—" always so crude, but something about the click of Hob's tongue makes Dream shift uncomfortably in his seat on the couch— “I was wondering whether you were the same way." Then he winces. "Not the slut part. The indiscriminate part."

"Do you mean to ask if I care about the gender or sex of my lovers?"

"Yep. Knew I should have just been straightforward with you."

Dream thinks about it. He has never made a pattern of his relationships, the way humans do. He simply... does what his foolhardy heart commands. Usually with poor results. "I suppose I do not. Care, that is. But. My lovers have been women, yes."

Hob tilts his head. There's a new gleam in his eyes, now. He goes to finish his beer, but it’s empty. Dream watches the drag of his lips over the mouth of the bottle.

"Does that surprise you, Hob Gadling?" he asks. "That my amorous pursuits have been so much narrower than yours?"

"Mmm. Little bit? It's just, even if I hadn’t—how can I put it politely—fucked my way across half of London already by the time we met, I can't imagine making it six hundred years without ever at least experimenting?" He grins. "I could be straight as a nail and curiosity alone would've got me in some bloke's bed at least once. Hmm. Maybe three times just to be sure."

"It is good that you cannot die, for I believe curiosity would have sounded your death knell twenty times over by now."

Hob raises his bottle in Dream's direction. "True, that." Then he leans forward on his knees, eyes bright with, of course, curiosity. "But weren't you ever curious?"

"I contain the collective memory," Dream reminds him. "All fantasies. And dreams. If I need to understand an experience, I can simply consult that breadth of knowledge. I do not need to 'wind up in some bloke's bed.'"

Hob's leaning so far forward now he might come toppling off his chair. "But do you wanna?"

Dream frowns. "I do not..."

"Do you want to experience it yourself, though?" Hob repeats. "Cuz I could watch porn—" Dream wrinkles his nose at this crude analogy for his relationship to his dreams, but the offense is swiftly banished as Hob continues— “but that's not the same as—” his hand lands on Dream's wrist, fingertips pressed to where he would have a pulse— "that."

Dream freezes. Under Hob's fingers, his heart jumps once, quick as a mouse.

"I've no doubt you understand it, Dream," continues Hob, and perhaps he had drunk less than Dream had thought, for he seems very lucid now, "but that's not the same as being there."

Dream fixates on where they are touching. His skin feels very hot, at that point. "And what. Is being there like?"

Hob's fingers slip a little higher, just under the sleeve of his coat. He is still wearing his coat, yes, why is that? He feels very warm. "Could find out?"

"Are you suggesting I should find some man to bed me?"

"Some man," Hob repeats, jaw working. His gaze is hovering somewhere around Dream's collar. "Some man who knows what he's doing, yeah."

"And..." an echo of a breath is frozen in Dream's lungs. Some instinct saying, be still. A pulse at his elbow, in his thigh, at his throat. Hob still has his wrist pinned. "Do you know what you are doing, Hob Gadling?"

"Never in my life," says Hob, and leans in and kisses him.

He has to get out of his chair to do it. Has to lean down over Dream, taking Dream's cheek in his hand. Has to tip Dream's head back, and sweep his tongue into his mouth from above, or perhaps Dream only tells himself that he has to rather than acknowledge that it is Dream himself baring his throat, opening his mouth to Hob's.

If he wished to know what it was like to be kissed by a man, now he knows: strong and lingering and hungry. Or perhaps that is just Hob Gadling. Hob's stubble brushes his cheeks. He can smell Hob's cologne, rich and sweet like whiskey. He wraps a hand around the back of Hob's neck so he can't pull away far.

Hob's eyes are heavy-lidded when he looks at him. Dream touches his own lips, and Hob follows the movement. "I'm not certain I understand," Dream says. "This is not enough data to make a determination."

"Definitely not," says Hob, and kisses him again, pushing him into the back of the couch. The strength of his hands sends fire racing all the way up Dream's spine, curling around his neck, burning in the tips of his ears. He bites experimentally at Hob's lower lip, and Hob groans low in his throat.

"We're not—" Hob pulls away, lips shiny and wet, "we're not doing this here. Come on."

He stands upright again, and Dream will deny to the end of the universe the dissatisfied sound he makes when Hob's warmth leaves him. Hob smiles, soft and fond now, and takes his hand. "Come on, love."

Love.

Some man, Dream thinks, as he lets Hob pull him up. Join some man in bed. As he follows Hob down the hall to his bedroom. For curiosity's sake. As Hob kneels to help pull off his boots. Just to understand. As Hob divests him of his coat.

Experimental.

"You're so buttoned up." Hob smoothes his hands over Dream's shoulders, his bare arms under his t-shirt. "Let me know if it's too much, okay?"

"Yes." Too much, yes, it is too much, to see Hob look at him like that, with care and with hunger, for Hob to touch him gently, it makes his skin prickle, his cheeks heat, his throat terribly dry. It is too much; he will not tell Hob to stop.

I want to understand, Dream thinks. I want—

Hob smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Come on, then."

Hob is already barefoot, being less guarded than Dream, and he leads Dream up onto the bed. Dream follows, chasing his hands, and Hob does not deprive him. He leans against the headboard and lets Dream settle in his lap, immediately framing his face again between his palms. For the sake of learning, Dream pushes all the dreams of this aside, so that it is just him and Hob. New. Theirs.

He looks into Hob's eyes, very close now, and he feels light, floaty, good. Perhaps the wine was a bad idea. Perhaps it was right.

"What d'you want, darling?" Hob asks. Brushes his lips to the corner of Dream's mouth. "Tell me. This is for you, after all."

Yes. For Dream. A scientific exercise, he must remember. It will help him... understand. It will help him create more vivid dreams. That is all.

He can feel Hob's growing erection pressing against him. His own jeans growing tight. "I would like. The full experience."

Hob laughs, but it's a friendly laugh, not at his expense. Dream can recognize that, now. "There's no full experience. Sex counts as sex if you say it does. But if you're trying to say penetration, we can do that."

Dream shivers at the word penetration, sitting so matter-of-factly on Hob Gadling's tongue. "Yes. I believe that is what I meant."

"Alright." Hob may be matter-of-fact, but he does not sound unaffected. His voice has gone rough, his eyes dark, a flush along his cheeks. His hands fall from Dream's face to brace his hips, thumbs sweeping under the hem of Dream's shirt to touch his skin.

But he doesn't push Dream down into the mattress. Instead he pulls Dream closer by the hips, saying, "C'mere then," and Dream goes back to his mouth. Sinks into Hob's kiss, and the searing heat of his hands on Dream's hipbones. It's different. It's already different. But he can't yet determine if it's different because Hob is a man, or because he is Hob.

Hob, who has been a friend to him even when he couldn't recognize it. Who wants him to enjoy things. Wants to share with him.

Hob pushes Dream's shirt up over his head. Dream has not been bare in front of someone since his escape, but he doesn't think he minds, when it's Hob. When it means he gets Hob's broad, strong hands on his back, pulling him close, and Hob's lips on his shoulder, the crook of his neck, kissing and leaving marks.

"You know, once upon a time I thought you were above all this," Hob murmurs. He touches Dream's belly, his chest, his neck, holding lightly. "You were so... untouchable. Couldn't imagine you lowering yourself to engage in such—” he bites at Dream's earlobe— “such base activities."

"'Untouchable,' Hob Gadling?" Dream says. Hob's hands are cradling his throat now. Hob catches his point and flexes his fingers; Dream swallows under the grip.

"Always wanted to know," Hob murmurs, "if anyone'd touched you at all."

Not in a very long time, it is true. Dream burns with it, now, everywhere Hob touches him is alight. "What would you have done with an answer?"

"Dared," says Hob. "I expect."

"Always daring," Dream says. Indulges himself and slips his own hands under Hob's shirt, feels out his stomach, his hair, his back, all the strong lines of him. Hob's shoulders are pleasing, and his hips where Dream squeezes with his thighs, and these are not things Dream has thought of much, before. He wants to see more. To feel more. "Daring to be the first man to have me."

"Don't say things like that if you want me to keep my sanity." The words are rough like Dream has reached in and touched him instead of just spoken, and Hob's chest rises and falls heavily under Dream's hands.

"Maybe I don't."

This makes Hob chuckle, and Dream feels the rumble of it through his body. He wishes there was not the barrier of their clothes to dampen it; more than seeing Hob, he wants to feel Hob, his skin is prickling with it, his mouth is tacky and dry with it.

"How do you want me?" he asks, and whatever change Hob hears in his voice has him stiffening up, going serious. Dream doesn't know how he feels about it—he enjoys Hob's ease and laughter, but the intensity is... he feels it like a touch.

"How do you want to be had?" Hob counters, and before Dream can contemplate the myriad possible answers, adds, “Do you want to be? Is that what you meant? Only I would have thought— but then again—”

Dream does not interrogate the rambling path of Hob's assumptions. He says, "I would like to know. What I have not. Personally. Experienced, yes."

Daydreams poke at Dream's awareness as the image flashes through Hob's mind. Dream doesn't touch them, but the awareness of their existence alone has him shifting where he straddles Hob's lap. Hob's cheeks darken, and he says, "Strangest way anyone's ever asked me to fuck them. Yeah, alright. Budge up, love?"

Love. Again. Dream climbs off Hob's lap, kneeling beside him as Hob strips off his own shirt, flinging it somewhere--Dream doesn't see, for he is looking only at Hob. The solidness of him, where Dream often feels made of wind; the warmth of his belly, where Dream touches him, while Dream himself often feels cold. So made of earth, Hob Gadling.

Hob lays a hand on Dream's chest as if to push him down to the bed. No strength behind the touch, but the impression of it. "Need you to tell me if it starts going wrong. I'm serious, Dream."

Despite himself, Dream bristles. “You think me incapable of conveying my displeasure?”

Hob huffs. “I think you’re just prideful enough not to. Just be direct with me. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Perhaps... Hob is not entirely wrong. “…I shall," Dream vows at length. Hob nods, and smiles at him again, that warm smile. Dream can’t help but feel pleased to have made him smile so. Hob pushes, and Dream goes, lies back against the pillows, and Hob kneels between his legs. Hands sliding again to his hips, to the waistband of his jeans. Dream watches with fixation, caught on Hob's fingertips.

Hob has apparently decided he does trust Dream to interrupt if he doesn't like something, for he doesn't ask again before unbuttoning Dream's jeans. But Dream can tell Hob is still paying close attention to his reactions, and it's heady to be attended to so.

He lifts his hips for Hob to pull off his jeans, and then gets to bask in a look he can only interpret as adoring. Hob looks upon him that way, and strokes up and down his thighs, over his hips and belly. Dream's skin jumps at the touch.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Hob says, sounding wounded by it. "Everyone who sees you must go home wishing you were going with them, I refuse to believe otherwise."

Dream smiles, despite himself. "This may be a particular bias of yours, Hob."

"Yeah, maybe. I'm right, though." He leans down, hovers over Dream, kisses him. Dream pulls him down so their bodies are pressed together. Hob's skin is so warm, his hair softer than expected, the fabric of his jeans a rough counterpoint where it scratches Dream's inner thighs, rubs against his cock lying hard in the crook of his hip. A wealth of sensation. A pleased, wanting sound escapes him, before he can stop it—but Hob catches it, looking delighted to do so, kisses it right out of Dream's mouth. "You've left broken hearts in your wake. Still can't believe this is your first time doing this."

"Revel in that victory if you must."

"No victory," says Hob. "Only privilege."

And he kisses Dream again even as he works a hand between them, takes Dream in his grip. Dream gasps at the touch, breaking the kiss. Hob's hand is warm and rough and very sure, and Dream can't help the way his whole body tenses with that simple touch.

He feels Hob's smile against his cheek. His voice drips with satisfaction. "Are you sensitive?"

Dream does not get a chance to answer. Hob strokes him again, hums as Dream bucks up involuntarily into his grasp.

"Oh, I'm going to make you feel so good," Hob muses, his voice a warm rumble in Dream's ear. "I know I can. You deserve it."

"Hob—"

Hob kisses his own name out of Dream's mouth, a deep, biting kiss, and this confidence, rather than being offensive to Dream's station, is riveting. Dream feels spelled.

"Just let me take care of it," Hob says, and moves away, and Dream groans at the loss of his body heat.

"You will take what you want now?" Dream complains, knowing full well even as he says it that it is nonsense. But having Hob's touch and then losing it is making him insensate; truly, he had not thought he could fall so far. "Is that what this is, Hob Gadling?"

Hob chuckles. "Oh, no." He kisses Dream's sternum, and down along his abdominal muscles. Mouths at Dream's belly, where Dream shifts under him, ticklish and affected, skin jumping, and then Hob noses at the base of his cock, and Dream realizes what he's gotten himself into only right before it comes to light.

"No, Dream," Hob says, lips now brushing the head of his cock, and like that he looks up and meets Dream's eyes. "I serve at your pleasure."

He takes Dream in his mouth, strangling Dream's response before it can even reach his throat. Not that Dream knows what he would have said. It's whited out instantly in the rush of pleasure that is Hob's mouth, and tongue, the generosity of his body, the vision of him between Dream's legs.

He's voiceless as Hob bobs his head, takes Dream deep, laves his tongue over his slit, applies what Dream must concede is his considerably greater experience to breaking Dream's ability to speak entirely. He grasps mindlessly at Hob's hair, it slides soft between his fingers, head tipped back against the pillows and thighs jerking restlessly, and still he knows this is but a precursor to what Hob truly intends for him. What he's... asked for. Folly. What had he been thinking?

Hob lifts his head to look at him, a line of spit dragging from Dream's cock to his lower lip. "Dream, you with me?"

Dream nods. His hand is still in Hob's hair. He pets at Hob's forehead, his temple, and Hob smiles. Like Dream is the one being indulged.

"Good?" he says, and Dream nods again. Hob takes his hand from his hair, kisses his knuckles, and Dream does not think this is how casual experiments are meant to go. He does not know what he is learning, except that Hob's kiss is soft and reverent, and the look on his face even more so.

"Is this," Dream asks quietly, hyperaware of how he's laid out on his back, Hob between his legs, "how you want me?"

Hob releases his hand. Drags a fingertip maddeningly up and down the crook of Dream's thigh as he considers. "Probably be a bit easier for you on your belly, but I don't want to make you feel vulnerable."

Dream is not certain there is a version of this that would not feel vulnerable. That it does not already. "I defer to your better judgment."

"Stay there, then." He moves away, and Dream takes the moment to gather himself. He's not certain he succeeds. He's spinning pleasantly, buzzing with the echo of Hob's touch. He wonders what might happen if he gives up on trying to right himself.

Hob comes back with lubricant, situations himself between Dream's legs again. Runs his hands up and down Dream's thighs and Dream spreads them wider on instinct. Hob swallows hard, Dream watches the harsh bob of his throat. He's still wearing his jeans, and Dream wishes he would take them off, he wants to pet at Hob's thighs in turn, he wants to see.

"You're a holy vision," Hob says, still studying him with that look, raw and strangled. Find some man to bed you, Dream thinks, feverishly. Some man.

He plucks at the fabric of Hob's jeans. "Hob—“

Hob chuckles. "Sorry, sorry. Bit unfair of me, isn't it? Got too distracted looking at you." He unzips his jeans then, pulls them off, and then is sitting there only in his underwear—something which Dream does not bother to manifest for himself because his clothing is made already of dream stuff, but perhaps he will start because Hob bare before him, his cock heavy and hard in his boxer briefs but still obscured by the fabric is—

"Dream?" Hob asks, as Dream pushes himself up on his elbows and reaches for him, mesmerized, cups his hand around Hob through the fabric, feels the warmth and heft of him, "did I break y— ah fuck."

Hob pushes into his hand, bends down over him again to kiss him as if summoned to it, and it is thrilling, sparkles along every vein, to get such a reaction. To have Hob caving to him. "Fuck, Dream."

Dream indulges himself further, slips his hand under Hob's waistband, takes him in his grasp, and Hob jerks against him. Dream's mouth waters at the weight of him, he has to swallow thickly to clear his throat, his own cock is heavy and straining, and he parts his thighs further for Hob. Vulnerable. Yes. This is vulnerable, and especially so in the waking world, and he wants, he wants Hob in him. A new feeling.

"Hob. I want—"

"I know, darling. Fuck, you're beautiful. Your hands—" He shakes himself. "Right. Right."

Hob sits up again. Strips off his underwear properly. His hair is hanging loose and messy now, eyes ever so slightly glazed with pleasure, chest rising and falling, his prick hard and ruddy at the tip. He is arresting.

He pushes Dream's legs up so his knees are bent, finds the bottle of lube where it's fallen into the sheets, pours some out into his hand. Leans in to kiss Dream’s belly, pleasant and tickling, and in the same motion drags a finger over Dream’s entrance.

Dream catches his wrist, inhuman pulse peaking in his throat, like a burst of dream stuff. “You do not need to put in such effort. This body does not have these human limitations.”

Hob tsks and taps his hand away. “You said you wanted the full experience. And the full Hob Gadling experience includes proper prep and aftercare, even if you're made of whims and fantasies. Free of charge, by the way."

"Oh, indeed?" This comes out significantly less teasing, and significantly more affected, than Dream had intended. "And what will the rest cost me?”

Hob winks at him. "Only your pleasure, darling."

This time, he leans over Dream, takes Dream’s wrist and pins it to the bed by his head. Dream lets out a choked gasp. The sudden pressure of Hob’s grip makes something stand out sharply within him, and then collapse again in relief. Hob makes a considering noise, and holds him there as he presses a finger lightly to Dream’s entrance with his other hand.

Dream shudders as Hob pushes his finger in, one knuckle, two, as he works in and out of Dream’s body, stretching him— it is an odd sensation, one he half-feels he should shy away from, but Hob’s grip on his arm is grounding, and Hob kneeling between his spread legs is tickling something in him that wants very badly.

Then Hob crooks his finger and pleasure rushes through him like a windstorm. Dream arches off the bed, grabbing at the sheets, and Hob laughs. “Thought you might like that.”

“Hob.” Dream thinks he means this to come out admonishing but it’s far more strained. Hob doesn’t give him time to recover, he drags his finger over Dream’s prostate again and Dream bites down hard on his lower lip. Hob slips his finger out, returns with two, and now it’s a stretch. Dream grinds down on him, resists the urge to whine as Hob works him over on his fingers, rubbing over his prostate on every other stroke.

“You are unbelievably gorgeous,” Hob murmurs, watching where his fingers slip in and out of Dream’s body, and then back up at Dream’s face with awe and fixation.

“Even,” Dream struggles over the words as sensation washes through him, Hob’s fingers in him, filling him, so much and yet he wants more, “spread out, like so?”

“Especially then. The way you move on my fingers,” he twists his hand to emphasize the point, and Dream shudders, "the fact that you let me. D’you know how long I’ve looked at you and wondered?” Saying this, he kisses Dream, sliding his hand up Dream’s wrist to clasp their fingers together. “Passing Stranger, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only. Fuck, I wanted to see you like that.”

You give me the pleasure of your eyes, Dream thinks, but doesn’t quote the poem back to him— Hob reels him away again by the touch of his hands. He pushes a third finger into Dream, and now it is tight, it is so much, but Dream pushes himself back onto Hob’s hand. Hob’s fingers move gloriously within him, touching every part of him, and he starts speaking again in his low, honey voice, that’s it, darling, good, feels so good, yeah? and Dream needs Hob inside him. Hob has pulled him by the throat from inexperienced to grasping, and he is grasping.

Hob keeps fingering him, spiking his pleasure higher, his cock hanging heavy and teasing Dream with each move he makes. Dream himself is painfully hard, and it sharpens the feeling of Hob in him from maddening to agonizing. Hob kisses him, licks into Dream’s mouth, and Dream opens to his tongue. He opens to him. Like a yawning, cavernous thing.

Wanting Hob in him has shifted to needing Hob in him has shifted to lacking Hob in him, that Hob is a fundamental part of him and without him Dream is bereft. “Hob,” he whines, mortified by the sound of it but unable to drag himself back to that place of control he had surely—surely?—started the evening with. “Please—”

Hob’s head jerks up and he looks at Dream in shock. And. Oh.

Shame rushes through Dream’s body. Who has he become, begging a human to fuck him? Is he not the Lord of all Dreaming, is he not above this? Once, Dream was a skillful and assertive lover, he could bring the full power of the Dreaming to bear for his lovers’ pleasure, he could craft every moment exactly as needed— and now—

But Hob doesn’t draw away in disgust. Or gloat over the position he’s maneuvered Dream into. He smiles down at him, a soft look that goes just a bit pained at the edges as Dream tenses. Then he presses his lips to Dream’s cheek. Even that simple touch makes Dream shiver.

“It’s alright, darling,” Hob murmurs, so gentle but the heat of it still winds through Dream’s insides. “Don’t you know I’ll give you what you need? You don’t have to beg for it.” He slips his fingers out and back in, only two now, working them as deep as they’ll go. “But you sound so pretty when you do.”

“Please,” Dream says, the words again dragged from him unbidden, unspooled by the feeling of Hob inside him, there but not enough. Hob kisses him, swallows his plea like sweet wine, works him on his fingers, grinds his cock in tantalizing lines over Dream’s thigh. And gradually something unlocks in Dream’s ribcage, each piece turning itself open in realization. Hob likes when he asks, begs even. But he isn’t going to make him.

Asking, then, feels less like a wound rent in him, showing all his torn pieces, and more like a spell that will draw Hob to him. Speak, and he will come.

“Please,” Dream says again, and this time the words don’t tear. He speaks into Hob’s mouth, and the wet warmth of Hob’s lips and tongue soothe him where asking might start to chafe. “Hob, I need—”

“Do you need my cock, love?” Hob asks, rough low and rough and burning. “Feels empty, doesn’t it?” He slips his fingers free, and Dream whines. “I know. I know. You’re just starving for it, aren’t you?”

Starving, yes, Dream would like to take Hob in his mouth, but right now he’s feverish for something else. Hob is so close, every touch of his skin already has Dream singing, but he still wants more. He tangles his hand in Hob’s hair, wraps one leg around the back of Hob’s thighs to pull him closer, and Hob laughs, breathless.

“Fuck, Dream, you’re so—” Hob sounds spun around, now, and it’s gratifying to knock him askew in the way he’s done to Dream.

“Hob Gadling,” Dream says, putting the weight of sleeping desire into his voice, “I need you. I’m waiting.”

“Fucking hell,” Hob groans. “I’ve created something terrifying.” He doesn’t sound displeased about it. In fact, he kisses Dream again, lets Dream pull him close by the hair, smiling into his mouth. “Gonna make it so good for you, I promise.”

“I can plague your sleep with eternal nightmares if not,” Dream says, with no intention of doing so.

“See, I’m so confident in my ability to fuck you” —Dream's skin prickles at the word— “that I’m not even worried about it.”

He makes Dream lift up so he can push a pillow under his hips, takes Dream’s leg and maneuvers it over his shoulder, bending his body back. Dream shivers at the vulnerability of the position, the way he’s pinned. Hob kisses the bend of his knee with a little smile, and then Dream watches down the length of their bodies as Hob takes himself in hand. He’s so hard, glistening with pre at the tip, and Dream swallows jerkily.

“Alright, love?” Hob asks, meeting his eyes. He has always had the brightest, loveliest eyes. Dream holds his gaze and nods. He is not certain that he is, in fact, all right, he feels strange and spun about and immersed in the waking dream of Hob’s bed and Hob’s touch, but he does not want Hob to stop, he wants Hob to fuck him.

Hob presses into him, slowly, pausing when just the head of his cock is sheathed. And Dream— Dream was not prepared, Hob’s fingers did not prepare him for the all around pressure of Hob’s cock, the way it would fill him. It dances on the edge of pain, but he wants more. Already, more.

“More,” he finds himself saying, and Hob chuckles, bracing a hand around the back of Dream’s neck as he complies. This time, he pushes all the way in, not stopping until he bottoms out, groaning at the feeling. Dream clutches at his shoulders, no doubt leaving indents in his skin, body clenching convulsively as he gets used to the feeling of Hob in him.

Hob is inside him. Hob is inside him.

“Dream, you alright? You’re… breathing,” Hob says, petting through his hair. He sounds awed.

Breathing. He is breathing. And he hadn't commanded it so. Hadn't even meant it. Normally Dream forgets to affect such human mannerisms, even when it might be advisable to do so. But now he is breathing. Each one is choppy, three steps up three steps down, somewhere between a breath and a sob.

“I am fine,” he says, and Hob shushes him, kissing his cheek.

“I know you are. It’s alright to get a bit overwhelmed, yeah?” Hob is still in him, Dream can still feel every centimeter of him everywhere, but he doesn’t move. Simply lets Dream settle.

Dream tries to stop the wretched breathing, it makes him feel human and mortal and out of control, but he can’t, this temporary body affixed to this plane by Hob’s weight, his touch. Hob kisses his cheek again, nuzzles at his ear, and gradually Dream finds himself subsiding, relaxing in increments. It occurs to him, through the distant knowledge of the Dreaming, that this softness would not be characteristic of a temporary, experimental experience with a stranger, should Dream have simply wanted to know what it was like. It occurs to him through his own knowledge that this vulnerability he feels, this ability to ease him, is characteristic only of Hob.

He does not yet know what to do with that, but he turns to find Hob’s lips. Hob meets him easily, smiling into the kiss. “With me?” he asks, and Dream nods.

“Yes.”

Then Hob starts to move, slow measured thrusts at first. Dream breathes through each, and perhaps breathing is not so bad, after all, for it settles him, and settling lets him take Hob in, and he wants to take Hob in. It is so good, the slide of him sends sparks all along Dream’s limbs, builds inexorable and tantalizing heat through his body, none of his many dreams conveyed to him just how good it would be, when brought from dreams to reality. From memory to the body. More, even, than this is the sense of Hob’s body over him, the heat of him, and the strength, the breadth of his shoulders, the drag of Hob’s belly over Dream’s prick, the way he moves, expertly pushing Dream higher and oh-so-much faster with each thrust, tapping against that edge of pain-and-too-much without ever letting him fall over it.

Dream is starting to think that, in addition to his general experience, Hob has become quite an expert in knowing what Dream, specifically, might like.

“Good, darling?” Hob asks against his jaw, and Dream means to respond but all that comes out is a whine. He feels Hob’s smile against his skin. “More, then?”

Dream evidently doesn’t have to respond. Hob braces himself more firmly over him, and then he’s moving much faster, and then Dream really loses his senses. Hob bears down on him, levering Dream’s leg back further and deepening the angle, and each thrust hits before Dream has recovered from the last, and Hob’s mouth is on his throat, right over his pulse, which is also hammering—

Hob hits his prostate, and Dream keens as lightning arcs through him. Hob is talking to him now as he does it again and again, saying through panting breaths something like, you’re so good, does that feel good? is’at good for you? fuck you’re gorgeous, but Dream can’t parse much detail. He feels he should be participating more actively, but the wherewithal to do so has slipped away from him, all he can do is take what Hob is giving to him.

Probably that is what Hob wants. Perhaps he has fantasized over their long acquaintance about having Dream bent in just this position. Many might wish to have the Dream Lord at their mercy. Hob’s mercy, however, is a burst of pure heat straight to the soul.

“Hob,” he’s saying when he comes back to himself enough to notice, “Hob, Hob—”

“You’re beautiful like that,” Hob says, voice rough. “Dreamed of it— ha. You make the most beautiful noises.”

They are, in fact, wholly undignified noises, but Dream can’t seem to bring himself to stop; Hob punches each sound of pleasure out of him. He floats. Holds onto Hob’s shoulders. Presses his face to Hob’s and feels the scratch of his stubble. The rough calluses of his hands. The rhythm of Hob’s body is sublime. The kiss that he presses to the corner of Dream’s eye is more so. He is… crying there. Tears spilling over and down his cheeks. Dream has crafted the heights of euphoria within the Dreaming. But. Has any of it ever been as good as this?

He has Hob close to him, around him, in him, and still he wants more. Never again will Dream be able to disdain the office of Desire, not without looking away in shame at the lie.

His release washes over him in a wave that he doesn’t even notice until it peaks, so great is the rest of his pleasure. He gasps as he comes, not even needing Hob’s hand on him, tips his head back on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. Chest heaving. Hob slows, cups Dream’s cheek—until Dream urges him on with an ankle hooked around the back of his thigh, do not stop do not stop do not—

“Alright.” Hob nips at his lower lip in admonishment but he does start fucking him again, clearly chasing his own release now rather than pushing for Dream’s. That edge of pleasure-pain now tips closer to pain but Dream relishes in it. Each stuttered motion of Hob in him is blessed.

“I want,” he manages, throat dry, voice scraped rough from his cries, “to feel you come. In me.”

“Oh fuck,” Hob swears. “Dream.” And that apparently is enough. Hob’s hips stutter quick and he comes, hot spurts in Dream’s body, he can feel it. When Hob's tension eases, when his breath catches up to him, he moves to pull out—but Dream drags him back in. He wants— wants to keep Hob inside him, belly spine lungs throat, bring Hob in and in and hold him there, wants that warmth with him always. He could live like that, with Hob close to him.

Hob helps him lower his leg from his shoulder, stretch out sore muscles, and then lets Dream pull him in close, hold him there, in him, even as he’s going soft. He turns them on their sides, tucks his face in against Dream’s shoulder. Breathes the same air.

“So,” Hob says, after several, very long moments where they’ve been lying quietly together, tacky with sweat, Dream’s limbs all wrapped around Hob and Hob running his hands up and down his back, “how was that?”

“Mm?” Dream is still floating. It’s very pleasant.

He can feel Hob grinning against his shoulder. “You wanted to know what it was like to sleep with a man.”

What it was like. Dream is not certain he knows. He knows that Hob’s arms around him are strong, the touch of his skin pleasant even with the combined heat of their bodies. That he smells of sex and sweat and Dream wants to mire himself in it. He knows that, as Hob does finally, carefully pull out, he can feel Hob’s come dripping sticky over his thighs and rather than being discomforting, it only reminds him how he was wanted. His own come is smeared over Hob’s belly in disorganized lines, and Hob’s hair is ravaged by his fingers. There are still tears drying on Dream’s face. He knows that Hob has had him, now, and is still holding him. That the force of his lovemaking annihilated Dream’s dignity. That Hob wants to kiss him during sex. That at his prolonged silence, Hob looks up, finds his gaze, questioning.

“I am not certain that’s what I studied,” Dream admits. “Or. Learned.”

“Oh? What’d you learn, then?” Hob touches his cheek, as if even parted for a second, he wants to be close to Dream again. “Least tell me if you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” Dream must look ruined, and still Hob must confirm he enjoyed it? “What I learned is not what it is like to be with 'a man'. But rather.” He brushes his thumb over Hob’s lower lip, and Hob’s mouth opens at the movement. “What it is like. To be loved. By a very good friend.”

Hob’s expression crinkles into the softest smile at loved. “Oh, a very good friend, hm?”

“Very good,” Dream says. Presses his hand flat to Hob’s heart. “Uniquely so. Uniquely good to me among friends.” Not that Dream has… friends, plural. Better, then, that Hob is so singular. Singular enough to have nestled somewhere within him, between one meeting, one drink, one kiss and the next, and Dream would no longer be without him. His heart is surrounded by a hazy warmth much softer than the sharp pang of desire, and Hob's bed, Hob's touch, is soothing to him, a blanket he has finally pulled over his shoulders after trying to brave the lingering cold. Like so much this evening, it feels strange, and like so much this evening, it feels too good to shy away.

Hob leans in to kiss him, a soft drag of lips over his. “Good. Can I convince my friend to go in for a shower? Tea, maybe? Can I convince him to stay the night and keep exploring that friendship?”

Hob has taken care of him this evening, has not yet lead him astray, and so Dream lets him pull him out of bed and to his feet. In the shower, under the rushing hot water, Hob kisses him, kisses him, kisses him, rough, inelegant, consumed by feeling, hands curled around Dream’s hips. Dream will not make dreams out of this night, after all, he thinks. Selfishly, he wants to keep it to himself.

Peerless among friends, Hob Gadling, he thinks, as Hob makes him tea. As Hob tugs him back over the threshold, into the bedroom, into the mess they’ve made of the sheets. Peerless among friends.

Among lovers, too, perhaps.

#tfw ur having casual sex with ur homie to learn what its like to get dicked down then oh no youre having a gay awakening oh NO youre having #a romantic awakening about your homie too. we've all been there #my writing #dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #you best believe 'i serve at your pleasure' plays over and over and over and over in dream's mind for weeks after #btw the poem hob quotes is 'to a stranger'#nsft

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pearikp · 1 month

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It's said that the only way to access Mhin's red choice is by choosing the Alchemist background, and that fact alone has me thinking about how the origin stories will actually impact the course of the game at full release. I wouldn't assume that you have to choose a certain origin to get a "good" or "bad" ending for a specific character, but (as stated by RSS directly) different origin stories will allow the main character to connect differently with each of the main five love interests.

Obviously, this isn't revolutionary, but I wanted to touch on which origins I think will be best suited for each route, based solely on scraps from the demo lol

For Kuras, I think the Alchemist and the Unnamed suit him the best. The former really comes from the fact that Ais' relationship chart suggests Kuras likes to ramble about alchemy, and because it has a lot to do with his role as a doctor, I would assume it opens up a lot of opportunities for him to connect with the Alchemist MC. I am more convinced of the latter based on the actual content of the demo. If you played the Unnamed origin, you may remember when the MC states that something about Kuras "nags" at them, "like a half-formed memory". This small line can obviously allude to Kuras not being human (and the Unnamed MC can pick up on it because of their sensitivity to the supernatural), or it could also imply that maybe this background gives the MC and Kuras a deeper sort of association with one another. I also encourage you to consider the dynamic of an excommunicated oracle in love with an excommunicated divine eldritch being.

It shocks no one that the Alchemist is probably the best route for Leander, and I maybe want to say the Hound could possibly be a good option in the future. The Alchemist can pinpoint exactly what about Leander's magic abilities makes him powerful, and obviously, this mutual connection will probably allow for plenty of unique interactions in his route. Sit on the fact that the MC had been mentored (manipulated) by an ex-Senobium mage, only to fall right back into the hands of another (pseudo-Senobium-affiliated) mage with sketchy intentions and big secrets... hmmm interestinggg... As for the Hound, I realize (admittedly upon limited playthroughs with this origin), that the dialogue never really changes for Leander's scenes. However, he is still an enigmatic socialite running a cult-gang, so surely the Hound will have some unique thoughts on Leander in his route and may eventually be able to see through this "nice guy" facade that Vere is so insistent he's parading around with? Just a thought.

As for my thoughts on Vere, I somehow have many and none at the same time. The one I'm pretty certain about is the Alchemist because they have unique dialogue acknowledging that Vere's collar is enchanted. I think the Hound may also work with his route, but I'm only basing that on the unique dialogue after the first encounter with Vere, wondering how he managed to pickpocket them without a sign, tell, or slip-up. The Hound has good social intuition, which is at least somewhat useful in dealing with Vere and his contradictory personality.

Ais comes naturally to the Unnamed, having an abundance of unique lines towards him more than the other characters. Not only does the Unnamed MC feel uneasy and hear unnatural sounds leading up to the Seaspring, but they also are the only one out of the three origins who has a distinct connection to "groupminds". The main character also notes that his tattoo (relating to Ocudeus) almost looks like it's moving. Similarly to Kuras, I like to think of the dynamic between a runaway ex-oracle crossing paths with a demonic being with cult-like worshipers... I predict the Hound will also suit Ais' route, based on how extensive their unique dialogue of Ais' natural leadership skills is. This origin is also the only one that actually details why his "gang leader" status contradicting the lack of an actual gang is so strange. The Hound comes from a more directly rugged life, and Ais takes an interest in the MC being feisty and defiant, so I'd guess that'll come into play somehow.

Back to square one on this whole overexplained talking point, Mhin obviously has some special connection to the Alchemist (or vice versa), if it wasn't obvious by the fact that Mhin's only red choice in the demo so far is only available with the Alchemist background. I think the Alchemist's unique connection to the Senobium through their mentor may come up, as Mhin's bio page says that they like the Senobium. The bio page also says they enjoy conducting alchemical experiments, which will connect the two even more. Once again, I think the Hound will also suit Mhin's route, based on little evidence and mostly just because Mhin and the Hound have similar vibes.

All of that said, I want to reiterate that I'm not under the impression that one origin will give you better or worse endings than the others, but rather unique choices and extra details based on their strengths. Regardless of how well one origin pairs with a LI, I will still probably be playing through each route with my own biased favorite (the Unnamed, if you were curious (I know you were not)). At the end of the day, it allows us to replay the game over and over to see what special changes and choices are available, so that will be very exciting.

#touchstarved game #touchstarved #touchstarved kuras #touchstarved leander #touchstarved vere #touchstarved ais #touchstarved mhin

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rassicas · 1 month

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hi guys! im back. i went tokyo for a few days. got back at 7 this morning after taking an overnight 7 hour bus ride.... that i did not sleep on bc i cant sleep in moving vehicles. this will be something closer to a proper blog post i guess. splatoon related convention? experience below

i've kept my mouth shut about my plans to go because its not as well known on the english side of the fanbase and i didnt wanna make people too jealous sorry LOL , but i went to splaket 22! it's an unofficial, splatoon-only doujinshi market/artists alley. this was my first convention-sort-of event ive been to since i was... in high school. i also dont really get to meet many other hardcore splatoon fans irl. i was nervous about it because i don't know a whole lot of people on the JP side nor do i have a lot of confidence in my japanese speaking/listening, but in the end it was SUPER fun. i wish i couldve talked a bit more to the artists i did encounter to comment on what i liked about their works but. Skill Issue very few non-japanese people at this event of course but one of the only english speakers i saw i called out to bc they were wearing a shirt with this exact image printed on it no video and no photos outside of designated areas were allowed so i got like. zero pics of my own. but there was a lot of cosplayers i saw! oh and here's the Loot Haul. a few doujin, a clear file, stickers, microfiber cloth and a keychain. im surprised at how little i got, i think i shouldve gone a bit crazier with it

the one with Tao Blu and oonie in the top left (by sachikazerick) I came across by chance and bought because it was cute, featured splatband characters, and also because it all in some familiar inkling language (the last point of which i told the artist as i was buying) when i finally got home and saw the back credits...

SMALL FUCKIN WORLD LOL (i tweeted at the artist afterwards to let him know i came by the table and to thank him for using me and my friend's inkling language fonts!) though truly, i think ardnin deserved the credit more rather than me since he made most of those fonts! ah well, still cool to see more and more fan works using deciphered inkling language. top middle book is a story with some salmonid characters that i havent read yet but im looking forward to it, the art is lovely. top right one was the first thing i bought. the artist is rk_splaworks, whose art i love, and we've been mutuals for a few years and have talked a bit here and there! i was so fucking nervous to meet them in person since my japanese sucks LMAO but they were happy to meet me too and we got a selfie together yippy <3 also havent read their doujin Yet since ill have to rub all my brain cells together and huddle over the dictionary, but i want their oc lore

ok that's all i'll say, next splaket is...june 22. very soon....im already thinking ill. go again. yknow. while im still in japan and all that. i guess ill have to study harder on my jp in the meantime teehee ...i doubt it, but in the off chance anyone following me is going to the next splaket in june lemme know!

#much of this is me cross posting my tweets from the past few days and then some #rassicas speaks #ive forgotten to make a tag for my non-ask original posts so i guess thatll be it #anyway ill get to work on translating that famitsu interview teehee

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for advising a woman to get married?

Maybe I'm digging my own grave because this website is very US centric but I'm hoping you see where I'm coming from. I (mid 20s M) come from a culture where arranged marriage is the norm. I have this friend Maya (early 20s F) who also comes from a similar culture, but the difference is that hers values consent more, whereas where I live, only the parents have a say in the matter. We also have a USAmerican friend Jade (late 20s F) who will make an appearance at the end.

Maya is a sex repulsed Ace, and she kept saying she will stay single forever. I know what the situation for women in her country is like, it would be very difficult to live without a husband. One day she made a vent post saying how her parents keep asking her to reconsider, that they are worried about her being alone for the rest of her life, and her father is worried about who will financially support her after he dies.

She didn't come out to her parents, no use of doing it since they won't even understand what Asexuality is. All she did say that she refused to marry a man she wasn't in love with, and implied she will never fall for one. She's trying too hard to prove she can be an independent woman.

Her family, out of concern, told her that marriage isn't about love. She can marry someone who she is compatible with and get along just fine. That many people don't end up married to the love of their lives and even if they do, they end up losing the spark anytime but stay because they built a loving home together.

I don't find this a bad thing. Stability is very important in marriage. I mean sure, I wish I could marry the love of my life, but if my parents decided that my next door neighbor would be my wife, I would go along with it because that's just how things are where I live.

I told Maya this and she got upset with me. She said my case was different because I'm a guy (??) And because I was hetero.

I told her to value her culture more, and she has the advantage over me because she can actually CHOOSE her spouse. She got angry and said I wasn't being considerate of her feelings, and she'd rather die than be touched by a man, which frankly is making me worried.

I told her she wasn't being realistic. She is fine for now, but she will suffer in the future. Being single in our cultures is very difficult and she needs to give up. She replied with long paragraphs about how she doesn't care. I say this because I care about her as a friend, and her parents from what she described are good people too and they care about her too. She doesn't appreciate it and thinks she can live alone for the rest of her life. Unlike the west, roommates arrangements aren't available here. If she loses her family, she becomes dependent on relatives who may or may not be available. Frankly I think she's very influenced by the western lifestyle which will get her nowhere in real life. And she's disabled and works a minimum wage too.

Maya stopped talking to me for days. The whole discussion was a on a public post so by the time our mutual friend Jade woke up (different time zones) she read the whole post and came to scream at me in DMs. Jade was Ace herself, she told me I was being sexist and acephobic. I told Jade that wasn't my intention but she should stay out of our business because she can't relate to our cultures and isn't being helpful to Maya, and she has it easy because she has the resources available that allow her to be independent.

AITA for wanting my friend to realize she's being unrealistic and things won't work for her in the future?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

Text

pining & desperately waiting | javier peña

take the weight off his shoulders - chapter two

Chapter Summary | As much as he’s trying to keep his distance there is just something about you that Javier cannot stay away from. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so to speak. He's worried about you too, putting yourself in harms way for your work.

Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, mention of smoking and drinking alcohol, mention of drugs, drug deaths and the drug trade, explicit smut - masturbation (F)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | When I tell you I love this (specific) man, I am telling you I love him. He consumes me. Thank you to @hellishjoel for letting me scream about these two with her and helping me figure this chapter out! If you like this I would love for you to join me in my ask box for screaming and please consider reblogging to support me! If you enjoyed this, you can make a donation to my Ko-Fi if you'd like to support me that way.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You dream of him every night for a week after that night at the bar. They’re filthy, depraved sometimes, and you always wake up, slick pooling between your thighs, fingers working furiously before your alarm goes off to try a satiate you, or at least tide you over until you can climb back into bed that night and really take your time to imagine all the ways Javier would take you apart with his fingers, with his mouth, with his….

“Are you even listening to me?”

You want to answer honestly and say no, you were busy daydreaming about getting railed by your dad’s buddy, but when you look across the table and see your boss practically glaring at you, you realise it’s probably for the best to lie a little.

“Sorry,” You mumble, picking up your pen, “Didn’t sleep well, what were you saying?”

“The fundraiser tomorrow,” She speaks, “For Dylan’s foundation, would you be okay to cover it?”

You nod, because it makes sense for it to be you. Dylan had overdosed just over a year ago – seemingly on top of things, doing well in school and incredibly bright, found slouched over on a street corner, dead from an overdose before he’d been able to leave the small town for whatever bright lights he was destined for. He was just one of a string of drug-related deaths over the past twelve months – an ‘epidemic’ as they had coined it – the town too close to Mexico to escape the trade that Javier himself had worked so hard to quell. Dylan’s parent’s had set up a small foundation after his death, hoping to help other young kids who could be lured into this stuff to have other opportunities in their lives.

“What kinda thing are you thinking?” You ask, starting to jot down notes as she speaks.

“Just some reaction from people there, why they’ve decided to come out and support, maybe try and grab one of his parents, just the usual really, and we can run a story in the following days, might help drum up some more support for them if nothing else.”

You nod, doing your usual with your notes of underlining the important parts, making notes on the kind of questions you’ll ask when you speak to people, “How many words have I got to work with?”

“I think we can give them a page,” She says, looking to her boss who nods in agreement, “So whatever you produced for last month’s story, that should be good.”

You nod, making a note of that too, and then continue to zone out for the rest of the meeting as everyone talks amongst themselves, mind going right back to Javi and what he would feel like putting his weight on you, settling between your thighs. You really needed to get a grip.

“Oh, isn’t it so nice to see such a good turn out today?” Your mom gushes, looking around at what feels like the whole of Laredo milling about a number of stalls that are selling all sorts of different things.

“Sure is good to see,” Your dad agrees, putting his hands on your shoulders to give them a squeeze, “You want us to leave you to your reporting, pumpkin?”

The nickname makes you wince a little, a moniker from your early days, before you’d filled out into your body. It was cute, but at twenty-five years of age, you do sometimes wish he’d find something else to call you.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” You turn around and smile at him, “I can come and find you in a little while.”

You wander around, introducing yourself to a few people asking them questions and jotting down notes. You’ve just finished speaking to Martina, famous throughout town for owning her own candle business, about why she’s supporting the foundation, when you step back and feel two sturdy hands holding onto your waist. You’re about to turn around and slap whoever it is for touching you, when that deep voice hits your ears.

“Careful, querida,” Javier fucking Peña, “Almost stood on my foot.”

You whip around, mainly to put a bit of distance between the two of you, because it felt like his lips had been inches from your ear. He drops one of his hands, but keeps the other ghosting at your side, maybe to keep you steady more than anything as you wobble from the speed at which you’ve turned around.

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand too close then?” You offer, making sure it comes out more playful than anything, because actually, all you really want is for his body to press against you more often.

“Fair point,” He shrugs, “Thought I recognized you so I wanted to say hi,” He finally lets that other hand drop from your waist, “So hi.” Is... Is he nervous?

You chuckle a little, “Hi,” you respond simply with a smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” You say honestly, this wasn’t his kind of scene before, you can’t imagine it’s any more appealing to him now, “Didn’t think it was your kind of scene.”

He rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck, “It’s not, I’ve been made to come,” He nods his head behind him where Chucho is talking to a group of other ranchers, “Apparently I’ve got to start showing my face more.”

“Well, it’s a nice face,” your mouth speaks before your brain can catch up with what it’s saying, you inwardly cringe when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, I’m sure people are happy to see you around.” Is all you can think to say to try and get him to forget the weird compliment.

He seems to smile, but like it had been across the table almost two weeks ago, his smile seems forced, “Just wish I could skip the bullshit about everyone being proud of me.”

“But it’s true,” You shrug, moving away from the stall with him so other people can in front of you to look, “You did really good things out there.”

He scoffs now, shaking his head a little, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, querida,” He speaks, “Surely you should know that more than anyone.”

You don’t know what he’s actually trying to say, but you decide to play it light, “Are you accusing me of lying in my stories, Peña?” You say with a smirk.

“Perhaps not you,” He offers, “But I know plenty of journalists who know how to twist a story to get what they want,” He looks down at his shoes, kicking at the gravel a little, “Just don’t want you thinking I’m something I’m not.”

“Been gone a long time,” You muse, “You might have to spend some time reminding me who you are.”

It’s flirting the lines of maybe being too much you think, but you’ve not said anything that’s not true. He has been gone a long time, and if what he’s said is anything to go by, he will have to remind you of who he is or show you how he’s changed.

“Not sure you’d like who I am now very much, querida.” He says simply.

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, tell him you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be true and that there isn’t a thing he could do on this earth that would make you think he was a bad person, but before you can, Chucho is coming up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, mija,” He smiles at you, “You here alone?”

“Hey Chucho,” You greet with a smile, “Mom and dad are around somewhere, I’m just here working on a story.” You hold up your notepad and pen.

“Let’s see if we can’t find them, huh Javi?” Chucho muses to his son, “Get you a nice cold lemonade for when you’re finished?” He motions to the blazing sun and then back to you.

“Sounds lovely, thank you,” You motion over their shoulder to where Dylan’s parents are stood, “I just need to speak to them, and I’ll come and find you.”

Javi doesn’t say goodbye, just follows closely behind Chucho as they disappear into the crowds, leaving you to wander over to Dylan’s parents. They’re not strangers to the paper, your boss had written a story with them not long after Dylan’s funeral, trying to spread awareness as to just how deep the drug problem ran in town. The Laredo Morning Times had always been supportive to them, so you didn’t feel the same anxiety you normally did when gathering information for stories, cold calling or knocking on doors trying to introduce yourself before doors are swiftly shut in your face or phones are hung up with a ‘no comment’.

They’re warm with you as you speak to them, thanking you for coming, thanking the paper for agreeing to cover the event, they even smile, which for a pair who lost their only son in such a horrible way still shocks you for some reason. Their loss hasn’t defined them, only made them stronger, made them determined to stop their pain from happening to anyone else. You make a note to write something equally as poetic in your article.

The crowds are thinning out a little as the midday sun does its worst. You can feel beads of sweat gathering behind our knees and you curse the fact you hadn’t remembered your hat. You can feel the heat prickling your skin as you spot your parents, sitting on a picnic bench with Javi and Chucho sat opposite them. When you’re close enough to the table, you can see everyone has plastic cups full of lemonade, but there’s one, put in front of the spare spot on the bench next to Javi, that is pink in colour instead of the cloudy yellow of everyone else’s.

“You get everything you need?” Your dad asks, as you try and fight your legs over the bench in the most graceful way possible.

“Yeah,” You nod, “Think it’ll make a great piece, Dylan’s parents seem really positive about it all,” You pick up the cup and take a sip, pink lemonade, your favourite, “Thanks for this.” You nod in the direction of your dad.

“Don’t thank me, Javi got these,” He smiles, “Remembered you preferred pink lemonade and everything.”

It actually makes your heart swell in your chest. He was always thoughtful, even before he left. Observant almost to a fault. But even after all these years, all of his stress, everything he’s seen, he still knows you well enough to know you prefer the sweeter pink lemonade. You turn your head to him to find him already looking at you with a little smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, sipping through the straw.

“You’re welcome, dulzura.”

Javier Peña is doing a piss poor job of staying away from you, even by his standards. He lasted less than a week before he was waltzing over to you, hands on your waist, buying you pink lemonade because he knows you prefer it. There hasn’t been a night where he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and made himself cum over the thought of you. He finds it easier to drop off to sleep once he’s done it, but his nights are still fitful, full of nightmares, tossing and turning, waking up to sweat soaked sheets and a heaving chest. He wonders briefly, when he lies awake watching the dawn arrive through his curtains, whether your body next to him would ease his nightmares? But then he thinks what if it doesn’t. What if you have to wake up, look at him with those innocent doe eyes and see him for what he really is? No, he can’t let his darkness cloud you, you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone that going to be gentle with you, someone softer, not him with all his jagged edges.

He's currently sitting in his truck, just outside of the liquor store, contemplating how badly he wants that packet of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey he’d driven out to buy. He’d done alright so far, chewing on his Nicorette gum, but his fingers are itching for the familiarity of a cigarette between his fingers, and he’d finished the bottle of whiskey last night.

Then, almost like he’s being punished by God, which would make sense really, all things considered, you’re in his eyeline, walking down the street with a woman who is a little older than you, with your notepad and pen clutched in your hand. It’s late and he wonders where you must be going to report at such a late hour, and then he worries, because in his experience, nothing good happens after dark that worth making the newspapers. As the two of you approach him, he leans further out of his open window, holding his arm out to catch your attention.

“Hey Javi,” You smile, coming to a stop in front of his window, “What are you doing in town?”

“Just picking a few things up,” He answers simply, because this isn’t about him, he needs to know where you’re going, “Where are you going this late?”

You turn to the older woman you’re with, tell her to go on ahead and you’ll catch her up, “There’s been some kind of drugs bust a few streets over,” You explain, “Sounds like it might be quite big so we’re just going down to see what’s happening.”

“Your dad working it?” He asks, because if he is, he knows you’ll be okay.

You shake your head, “Nah, he’s not on nights right now,” You’re shifting back and forth on your feet, clearly itching to get going, “I’ll be alright though, sounds like plenty of dad’s officers are down there.”

He turns his head back to the steering wheel and then back to you, “Be careful, alright?”

You smile at him again and if he’s not careful, he really could get used to being the person who draws that from you more often, “I know what I’m doing,” You chuckle slightly, and he doesn’t doubt it, not really, “Been covering this kinda shit for a while.”

Without really thinking about it, he leans over, roots around in the glovebox and pulls out the little card he knows that’s in there. He passes it over to you, letting you take it, “It’s got my number on it,” He explains, “I’ve been in this shit and I just…” He trails off with a sigh, “Just, call me before you write something that might get you in trouble, okay?”

“Worried about me, Peña?” You smirk, and he thinks above your smile, he’d like to make you smirk more too.

“I’ve just seen too many good journalists write things that ruin their careers,” He shrugs, trying to play it off but probably doing a terrible job of it, “Don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

He watches as you turn the card over in your fingers a few times, before smiling at him one last time, “I’ll call you if need you.” And he really hopes you do.

In that moment, he gives up on trying to resist the call of the liquor store, pulling out his keys from the ignition and opening his door, climbing down onto the pavement. He stalls a little, before he puts a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “Go and get your story, reporter.” And then motions his head for you to go.

He buys a bottle of whiskey and two packs of cigarettes, smokes two of them before he gets home. He thinks if he were a stronger man he’d have managed to quit, but he’s not, especially when it comes to you. Sure, he knew you before, but this new you? He’s known less than a month and he’s already struggling to stick to his own rules. He steps down from his truck back on the ranch, walks in and pours himself a healthy double, trying to convince himself it’ll be okay, he just needs to keep to himself, but when he’s led in bed at night, thinking of your sweet smile, he thinks this might just be another thing he fails at.

It’s late. Too late for you to be awake when you have to be at the office in the morning, but you can’t stop looking at the series of numbers, printed on the little card, underneath the words ‘Javier Peña, DEA.’ It’s out of date, clearly, the DEA nothing more than a memory to him. But it’s the principle of it that matters most. He’s worried about you, and he would only worry if he cared right?

You set it on your nightstand, switch off the little lamp and plunge yourself into darkness, right at the same time as you plunge your hand under your sleep shorts and through your folds. You’re soaked, because you always are when you think about him, it’s actually sort of pathetic. You sink two fingers into yourself, only briefly, letting out a satisfied breath, dragging your slick fingers back you to slowly circle your clit.

It's new, the way you always need to take care of yourself. The brief relationship you’d had in college with James hadn’t given you much to work with, you hadn’t really felt desperation to get yourself off like this before.

Your other hand, currently running over your peaked nipples through your tank top, is itching to reach across to your nightstand, pick up the phone and dial that number. You want to breathe down the phone at him, tell him you’re being so bad, that you need him to help, need that deep voice to guide you through it. As you press your fingers harder into your clit, speeding up your circles and bucking your hips, you wonder what he’d actually do if you did call him. Would he tell you to get lost? You don’t think he would, you think he’d do exactly as you asked, talk you through it.

You imagine his voice in your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You imagine his hand replacing your own, sinking his fingers into you, using his thumb to work your clit, the rough of his moustache running over the skin of your neck as he kisses you there. It’s the image of him looking down at you, smiling as he makes you cum that tips you over the edge. That flood of relief that rushes through you as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from whispering his name as your body shakes through your orgasm.

You wipe your slick fingers on the skin of your thigh, roll over in bed so your back is to the phone, trying to get your breathing under control. You drag the covers up under your chin, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without imagining his strong arm around your waist, his broad chest against your back. Does he snore? You wonder as you try and fall asleep. Would he keep you warm? It’s all running through your head as you sleep, conjuring up dreams that come morning have you realizing something has to give, you have to know, you have to have him. You needed Javier Peña more than the air you breathe, no matter how bad it was to admit that, no matter what it meant, no matter what it would cost, you needed him and you think to yourself as you drive to work, that he might just need you as much as you need him.

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