#and cut him out of everything (and it was done in a pretty professional way as far as i can remember. they weren't trying to stir up drama)

[thecoolertails]

you would think that the creepypasta fandom would be like, the worst fandom to be a part of (and maybe some parts of it are, im sure my experiences aren't universal) but for me it's actually been one of the best fandom experiences i've had. no for me the worst fandom i've ever been a part of was probably steven universe

[simpjaes]

NIGHT-SHIFT (p.sh)

Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does. or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT― 4.5k

WARNINGS―  dub-con since reader doesn’t know it’s him. 

CONTENT― office setting, sunghoon is a service top/soft-dom/whatever his clients need lol

 NOTE ― this was supposed to be a drabble, but i just....it needed a little more plot sorry. it's not very good, like fr this is not up to par with what I wanted... but i wrote it so im gonna post it.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― dubious consent, cam sex/virtual sex, dirty talk, masturbation instructions, umm…finger fucking, jerking off, fantasies, role-play type stuff

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

What are the chances? Honestly, what are the fucking chances?

Sunghoon sits up quickly from his relaxed position upon hearing a voice far too familiar on the other end of this call. He’s lucky he doesn’t have his camera on just yet, you’d have seen the embarrassing reaction to…well…hearing you of all people.

He knows the world can be small sometimes, but this is too small for comfort as he hears your muttered voice through the microphone again.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” You say. 

“Ah, uh–” Sunghoon pauses. There’s no way it’s actually you. Can you not recognize his voice too? “What type of call did you request again?” 

“Full service.” You remind him. 

Oh. You’re into this kind of thing? That pretty, well-mannered employee of his? The one who sips coffee quietly at her desk while actually responding to her emails? The one who never shows up to co-ed parties? The one who always dresses appropriately and addresses him in a timid way?

You…just paid a cam-boy to get you off in full? Not just any cam-boy either, you paid him?

God, his cheeks are so heated at the arousing thought. Never once has he ever imagined you in any scenario that doesn’t involve excel spreadsheets and finances. Arguably, you’ve probably never thought of him all spread out fucking his fist either but…you’ve blatantly seen him do it already.

He wonders how long you’ve been seeing this part of him, how long you’ve been getting yourself off all alone while he puts on a show for hundreds, and sometimes, thousands of people. 

As detrimental as this is, it’s his job to do this. You paid him to do it, just like how he pays you to do your job. He can’t be letting this hold him back. No, in fact, he needs to get this hour long session over with as quickly as fucking possible. 

“Right,” Sunghoon lends a chuckle, nervous sounding on his end but to you it just sounds cheeky. “Can I get your name, babe?” 

You’re quiet at first, never having done this before and absolutely not wanting this random horny guy to know who you are. Honestly, you already requested that only he turns his camera on during this call as well. As if you’d give out your real name. You give him a name that rhymes with your own instead, and there’s another chuckle after. 

He knows you’re lying. Out of all the employees that are under him, you’re the one he has to correspond with the most. After all, you’ve been up for the promotion to being his assistant for the past three months. He knows that isn’t your name. 

 Smart girl, just like he knew you were. 

“Is that so?” He tilts his head at his blank screen in amusement, watching the microphones light up with each breath. “Alright, and you’ll do everything I say, yes?” 

You nod to no one, realizing he can’t see you and instead giving him a hum and gentle words of “of course.”

His image flashes across your screen just moments later. The same as his usual streams. Face out of frame, hand strong and willing, his cock out and on display– only half hard. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” Sunghoon calls out now, as if to show you that it’s time to begin, your almost-name falling from his lips shortly after. “Don’t hold your breath, you paid good money for this, and I want to hear you.”

Oh man, this is embarrassing for you to be doing this. But truly, anything at this point is better than another night all alone. 

And he does hear you. Relishing in that voice he hears day to day reciting memos and budgets, only this time, you’re calling out pleasurable reactions to how he tells you to fuck yourself. 

He’s good at it too. You can’t help but listen to every word, touching and massaging when he instructs you to, stopping just short of orgasm for him to ask, “That feels good, doesn’t it? Wish you had me doing it for you, isn’t that right?” 

Always using the fake name. Giving you full-service by the end of the call. 

Safe to say, you’re feeling refreshed by the next morning as you ready yourself for work, wanting very much to book the infamous ServiceKing again. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Fuck, he can’t even look at you. Not after the way he got off last night. 

Not after hearing you moan out the way you did while he simultaneously imagined you all spread out on his desk for him. Not after hearing the fucking wet between your legs as you frantically tried to cum when he told you to. 

Not after you did cum for him. 

“Mr. Park–” You chime through his door, not quite noticing the way he stiffens in his seat. 

God, if you had called him that last night…

“Hm?” He composes himself by acting bored and uninterested in whatever papers you have held tightly against your chest. “What is it?”

“I got the statements back from our parent company, I think–”

“Great. Just set them down on my desk.” He cuts you off, patting his desk before hoping you get the fuck out of his office before he ends up breaking office rule number one.

What is office rule number one, you might ask? Never fuck a co-worker. What’s worse is that you’re not his fucking co worker. You’re his employee.

You raise a brow at his demeanor this morning. The usual not-so-up-tight Sunghoon appearing far too distracted today compared to usual. Most mornings, he’ll at least give you a smile and a “thank you.” 

“Mr. Park, is there anything I can get for you?” You ask with concern in your voice.

Sunghoon pauses every thought in his head as he looks at you. Narrowing his eyes and wondering if maybe he’s just overreacting. Maybe he's mistaken and that girl from last night isn’t you at all. After all, there’s plenty of people with the same pitch in their voice. She didn’t even turn on her camera, and she gave him a different name anyway. 

Maybe he just wishes it was you. 

“No, I’m fine–” He says, mistakenly calling out the fake name rather than your actual name. 

You miss the way his eyes widen for a split second before correcting himself to your real name. 

“Ah, my apologies. Got a little tongue tied.” 

You stand there in shock. No way in hell he just called you by the name you spoofed to a cam-boy last night. Coincidences can be so weird, and being called that hits you a little too close to home. 

It feels awkward in the room now and both of you play it off as a genuine mistake. Though, to you, it has to be a genuine tongue-tied version of your name. Sunghoon couldn’t possibly know about that. Besides, he appears to be more tired than usual anyway, so…you choose to believe it’s a crazy coincidence. 

You give him a nervous chuckle as you wave yourself off and out of the room with a small “It’s okay, you know where I am if you need anything.”

What he needs is to watch his fucking mouth. What he needs is to stop thinking about how you just reacted to being called that. What he needs is to pretend that none of this is happening and do his goddamn work. 

And he tries. He really does. Unfortunately, his eyes go from blurs of numbers and words on spreadsheets to the window of his office. Just outside of it. You.

How is he supposed to focus after kind of, accidentally, practically fucking you? Sure, he never touched you but…it really was you. The way you reacted to that name was so telling, and he can’t help but actually check you out now. 

You, with that body. You got off to him, with those legs of your spread out while staring into a screen. All alone, listening to his voice, moaning for him…and now you’re just sitting there in your business casual outfit like he’s not unintentionally getting hard. 

So, he avoids you. At all fucking costs, he avoids you. 

You get up from your desk? So does he, making sure that if you start coming his way, he’s walking out and in the opposite direction. You send him an email? Out of office, despite clearly sitting at his desk. You call his phone to ask a question? He forwards you to his current assistant. 

And this happens for days. To the point you know that promotion is slipping from your fingers. 

Naturally, you’re frustrated with the office-dynamic. After all, you’ve heard rumors of picking favorites. You thought you were one of them, but it appears that Sunghoon may just decide to try and beg his current assistant to stay with bribes of double pay. 

You’re more frustrated as the days go by. Leaving work yet again with no good-byes from the boss who used to show appreciation for how hard you worked. He’s colder than usual, he’s stiffer than usual, he’s– a fucking asshole these days.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ping! 

Sunghoon stares at his secret email in disbelief. 

NEW REQUEST FROM: [your email/username]

$500 PENDING. 

FULL SERVICE.

Requester note: work has been hard lately, will you help me de-stress for a little while? 

[ACCEPT REQUEST]   [DECLINE REQUEST]

Sunghoon hovers over the decline button for a solid thirty seconds as he burns a hole through his screen. Work has been hard for you lately, huh? Has it now? Try being him. 

He shifts his mouse to the accept button, wondering if he even needs that extra five hundred dollars. Those funds just to suffer more at work? Just to suddenly have the need randomly throughout his day to make you moan for him? Just to have the sounds of your pretty voice echoing in his head more and more the longer he ignores you? 

His finger clicks, hitting the accept button as he lets out an exasperated sigh. 

Why did he just do that?

Wait. 

Maybe this will help him get through the work weeks. Fucking you through words alone in secret, never telling you who he is, always letting you use him even if it’s just through audio and visual stimulation. 

After all, if you found out who ServiceKing is, you very well may quit. Hell, you might get him fired. Fuck.

This is dangerous. 

Yet, he feels the excitement in his gut before it even hits his cock as the clock ticks. He gets to hear you again soon, you get to watch him cum again soon, he–oh, he’s so turned on right now just thinking about it.

And the time comes too slowly for his liking. He feels as if he’s been edged by the time the two of you enter the call and he’s immediately turning his camera on. 

“Ah, look who it is,” Sunghoon starts, already positioning himself with a raging hard cock on the screen. “Had me wondering if you’d come back to me.”

You don’t know why your cheeks heat up, but the feeling in your gut is miles better than the frustration and anxiety that you felt throughout the day. 

“I was wondering the same thing,” You speak into the mic meekly, hiding your face despite knowing he can’t see it. “I just need to get my mind off of stuff for a little while.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon chuckles into the mic, his face perfectly hidden. “Wanna give me some context? Maybe I can use some of the information for–”

“God.” You immediately start, shutting the man up on the other side of the screen in an accidental frustration-dump. This is not what you paid him for, but you still appreciate the space to release your brain before, well, your cum. “My fucking boss.”

Sunghoon’s ears perk up, lazily stroking himself as you continue with a frantic voice. 

“I swear he just flipped on me. I thought I was doing so good, I thought I was gonna get that new position, but now he’s just ignoring me and treating me like some temp or something.” 

Sunghoon hums lowly, listening intently to the way you bring him into conversation to a man that…unfortunately, is that very same boss.

“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Sunghoon continues palming himself as he soothes you through your frustrations. “Your boss isn’t praising you.” 

You pause, feeling a ping in your gut. 

“If I were him, I’d praise you every day–” Sunghoon softens his voice. “Every night.”

“Oh…” You listen to his words, feeling your frustration melt out of you in an instant as you now focus on the way his cock twitches through the screen. 

“Wouldn’t let you go a second without thinking of how good I am to you.” He continues, both hyping himself and degrading his day-time self. “If I were your boss–”

You interrupt his words with a very quiet groan, he fucking heard it.

“Mm, you like that?” He smiles to himself, gripping the base of his cock and thrusting up to show the full size to you. “The thought of your boss liking you a little too much?”

You hum. Not that you’ve ever thought about it too deeply, but now that he’s said it, praising you, putting down your actual boss, telling you what he’d do if he were him? 

You guess, for tonight anyway, you’re into it. 

“What’s his name, babe?” Sunghoon asks, wondering if you’ll actually out his name to a stranger. 

“Park Sunghoon.” You expose him instantly, full name and all, even with a bit of bite in your voice. 

Damn.

“Oh, yeah?” Sunghoon draws back, jerking his hand up once. “I’d fuck you better than Park Sunghoon.” 

You smile at the thought, imagining yourself with more power than Sunghoon has. Like you’re his boss, you’re the one dangling a promotion just out of reach before giving it to someone else. 

“See this?” The man on the screen grunts out to you, fucking tight thrusts into his fist. “Watch me, baby, get a good look.”

And you do watch. Intensely, you stare at his big cock, the head of it darkened and leaking with each pass of his hand. You’re not even touching yourself at this point, but it’s like you can feel the force of it.

“Now, I need you to open those legs for me.” He instructs you. 

You do as he says much like before, letting your legs fall open but not yet letting yourself touch. You still sigh at the movement, your panties alone shifting were enough to make you want to hump your hips up. 

“Now, turn on your camera.”

Silence. Your ears ring momentarily at the words as you immediately close your legs.

“What?” You ask in a higher-pitched tone than usual. “I requested for no c-”

“No.” Sunghoon mutters, shifting his position to lean towards the microphone and whispering now. “You do as I say.” 

He hears you huff at his words, but he hears the shifting around on your end. 

“I want to see that pussy open for me.” He continues in that same low-rumbled voice. “I want to see what Park Sunghoon is missing out on.”

You don’t know what it is about this situation that turns your discomfort into pure, rushing arousal. Never in your life have you ever considered fucking yourself on camera, especially after paying someone else to do it for you, yet– 

“Do I have to show you my face?” You ask quietly, already trying to find a lower-face-mask just to be safe in case you lose your composure and accidentally reveal yourself. 

“No,” Sunghoon assures you through a deep breath. “I already told you what I want to see.”

More silence save for the shuffling he still hears on your end. 

“Open your legs and turn it on.” He encourages you now, keeping his hand still on himself as he waits to see if you’ll actually do it.

And…

Oh fuck.

“There she is.” Sunghoon hums, trying to keep his composure at the way you give him access. Honestly, he didn’t think you would, but you do, and all he can do is lay himself back again, staring straight at the image of you. 

Your face is out of frame much like he is but this is the first time he’s ever seen you with so little clothing on. No bra, thin tank top, no shorts or pants, just panties. It takes everything in him not to moan out at the image. 

After all, it’s confirmed to be you. 

Fuck, that’s you right there. 

“Already so wet too?” Sunghoon groans now, focusing on that spot between your legs, probably so slippery and warm. 

You’re very shy though, not moving much better yet speaking as this faceless man takes in your image. You feel awkward, but still turned on despite squeezing your legs together and hiding that spot from him. 

“Oh, baby–” Sunghoon coos out in a way that makes it seem as though he was endeared by that. “That’s not going to work.”

You’re more focused on your embarrassment than you are on the way his cock leaks and pours pre-cum at the image he’s witnessing. 

“How am I supposed to show you how much better I’d take care of you?” He continues, reverting back to the same role play from before. “I bet that boss of yours wouldn’t want to bury his tongue in you like I would.”

Your legs fall open at the words, and he can see the way you thrust up just slightly. 

“That’s it, you need someone to touch you, don’t you?” He continues, watching you intensely. “Need someone to lick that pretty pussy?”

You nod, once again forgetting that he can’t see you do it before you finally speak.

“Please.”

His moan after hearing you seems far more intense than the first time you did this with him. In fact, he appears entirely focused on you. Role playing in some way but somehow acting more real than last time too. 

“You deserve some love for all that hard work.” He says to you, encouraging you to keep talking for him. “Play with yourself, go on. You need it.”

You follow his instructions on instinct, as if your body truly does need the release. 

“Feel it– not too hard, just graze over your panties.”

Ah, still you listen, holding your breath at each feather-light touch you give to yourself per his request. 

And he watches. Hyper-focused on the way that darkened spot on your panties grows bigger and bigger. So wet for him doing exactly what he wishes he could do for you come tomorrow morning. 

“Your other hand babe, slowly, lift your shirt and–”

He doesn’t even have to keep instructing you. You do exactly as he wanted, lifting your shirt gently before playing with your own nipples, still lightly grazing your fingers over your swollen clit that’s restricted by your panties. 

You moan quietly at the feeling, wishing so much that it doesn’t have to be your hands doing this. 

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon hums, now working his palm against his own length, gentle, barely grazing it. “Now, look at me.”

You draw your eyes forward, the image of him already arousing from before, but now? Why is he so much hotter now? As if the screen is nothing but a window into his bedroom. 

“You see how hard I am right now?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you continue to work yourself up to near-sensitivity. “Never been this hard for anyone else.”

Oh, that’s bullshit. He does this as a job. He’s just sweet talking to you for sure. 

“Been thinking about you since the first time you booked me.” He continues, keeping the touches light and making sure you don’t press on yourself too hard either. “Was hard all week for you.”

Okay, yeah, maybe you are a little too into praise. Lie or not, it’s exactly what you need to hear right now. 

“You're gonna be just as good for me tonight too?” Sunghoon hums, tightening his grip. “You’re going to push your panties to the side and show me that you missed me too, right?” 

Yes. The light touching has been nothing but torture at this point, wanting so badly to be told to do more. For yourself, for him. 

You barely recognize how your embarrassment leaves your body when you stretch your panties to the side, letting him see how they stuck to you only to unfold in a glistening mess for him. 

“Messy, messy, messy.” Sunghoon moans, struggling so hard by now not to fuck his fist straight to orgasm. But no, he can’t ruin this moment. 

That’s your pussy, looking so wet and tight, so needy. 

“Gently still, open up for me.” Sunghoon groans lowly, watching so closely the way you spread open your lips for him, the hole pulsing and dribbling so much slick. 

Never in his life has he ever wanted to bury his tongue into someone this badly. Goddamn, he’s nearly obsessed with you at this moment. He loses composure.

“Fuck–” He seethes, feeling his cock twitch wildly against his hand. “I want you so bad.”

Those words feel more real to you than anything else. Virtual sex is one thing but to have a man blatantly moan those words to you as if he means them? As if he has never let it slip for any of his other scheduled calls?

“What’s the name of your boss again?” Sunghoon asks, pretending as if he forgot, just to hear you say it. 

He notes the way your pussy clenches through his words too, as if he can see the confusion not through your expression, but through your arousal alone. Asking you that turned you off.

“What’s his name, baby?” Sunghoon presses, offering an excuse. “I wanna know who it is that gave me this tonight.”

Alluding to the fact that the only reason you’re paying him is because your boss made you feel like you need release in some way. 

“Park-” You start, not wanting to deny his demands. “Sunghoon.”

“Ah, yeah.” Sunghoon holds his breath, closing his eyes briefly just to let that breathy voice sit in his mind before focusing back on you. “Two fingers babe, slide them in.”

God, you listen just as well as you do at work. He should have given you that promotion the day he saw your application. Even without seeing you do as you're told in this situation, he already knew you were going to be getting that interview next week.

He listens to the way your cunt swallows up your fingers, so wet and needy. Swollen around the two digits as you slide them in with a breathy sigh. 

“Spread your fingers, open up.” 

You do, presenting your opened core to him without any shame at this point. Allowing him to look, wanting him to look.

“Now, say–” Sunghoon swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you Sunghoon.”

Your pussy pulses around your fingers, recoiling again at the name. 

“Say, Thank you Sunghoon, for all of this stress.” 

He continues, trying to encourage, adding another lie of an excuse just to get you to break. 

“Because, if it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be needing to take care of you like this, now would I?”

In your horny brain, it makes sense.

“Thank you, Sunghoon.” You moan, plunging your fingers into yourself without being told to do so, moaning out for the faceless man on the screen at your break in composure. 

And, well, Sunghoon himself is on fire. After all, you’ve only ever referred to him as Mr.Park, and hearing you practically moan his name in such an intimate way? It does nothing to keep him from spiraling into an even more selfish mindset. 

“Again.” He instructs you, watching the way your legs shake through saying his name. 

“Thank you Sunghoon.” You continue, as if the words are natural despite feeling intense irritation for the man. “Thank you.”

And, well, that very name you’re moaning is now also moaning. That little fake name you gave to him falls from his lips after you say it each time, fucking into his fist and hoping you’re watching, nearly unable to ask you to stick another finger into yourself.

Not needing to ask at all, apparently, because you do it yourself. You even bump your clit up against your wrist too. 

Shit. 

He needs you.

“Thank him for what?” Sunghoon starts to ask, feeling an orgasm approach far too quickly. 

“For making me come to you!” You answer him as if you’re frustrated, hips bouncing up against your hand just to dig your fingers in deeper. 

“What else?” He asks now, forgetting what it is he should not be doing. 

“Hmm?” You answer in a drawn-out moan.

“Thank him for what else?” He repeats first, only to follow up with his own answer. “For giving you a reason to cum.”

“Yes!” You groan, now grinding your hips up and against your palm without relaxing back against the bed. Intentionally chasing as your eyes remain on him, watching him pull and tug so roughly. 

“So fucking pretty” Sunghoon praises as he snaps his hips in time with his moving palm, eyes so tuned into you that– “Fuck–” He moans your name. “So pretty.”

And he didn’t realize it. Half expecting you to moan back for him, he’s still moaning as he watches you halt what you’re doing and cover yourself entirely.

“What did you just call me?” You ask in an out of breath voice. 

Sunghoon repeats your fake name to you, feeling the energy shift in an instant.

“No. You just called me–” You repeat your real name to him. 

“Ah, sorry babe, must’ve gotten tongue tied.”

There’s a rush of anxiety within you as you stare at the screen. There’s….no fucking way. 

Given, you’ve never seen him outside of a suit. The voice you hear doesn’t click in your head as Sunghoon’s either, considering he’s never a man of very many words. 

Instantly, you’re covering your camera with your hand, watching how the man on the screen spreads his legs out and drops his cock. Like he’s waiting, like he’s listening, wondering. Are you making a fool of yourself right now?

Are you misreading? 

He seems calm, and if it really is Sunghoon…surely he’d be disconnecting right now, right?

Why would he even be fucking himself on camera anyway? The guy makes bank! You’re the one who sees his paychecks, after all. Still, there’s a twisting in your gut as you ignore the way you still drip against your sheets. 

Very quietly, just to see, you work up the courage.

“Mr.Park?”

It’s silent for a few seconds as the man on the screen shifts, a blur of movement forcing you into a state of motion-sickness. 

You almost thought he was going to chuckle at you and ask if you were thinking about your boss rather than him. You almost thought he would use that to his advantage. 

You almost thought you were wrong, but– he disconnects. 

A few moments later, you receive an email with a refund of your five hundred dollars. 

And two hours later? Lying in your bed with anxiety in your gut, you get a text from none other than Park Sunghoon.

Mr.Park: Can we talk?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

― part two here!

[joycrispy]

One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | Bonus Chapter

ice skater!sunghoon x gf!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (f.rec), pussy muncher hoon is back, unprotected sex, very bad descriptions about ice skating, cheesy and wholesome (not sorry one bit), not proofread, if i missed any lmk! w.c: 12k synopsis: with sunghoon and minhee competing at the winter olympics, you're in the most romantic city in the world. your nerves are strung high for both of them but your boyfriend has a surprise once everything is said and done. masterlist** a/n: hi! my melting point lovers, this is for you and only you! i hit 4k followers on this blog and i thought, what better way than give my lovely people a bc of the fic that got me my first 1k followers! plus, i missed them like crazy and i felt like this was a nice wrap to their story. as always, comments, feedback, reblogs and likes are all welcome.

** if you haven't read mp then this will probably not make sense to you but if you really wanted to, you could read it as a stand alone. this is also dedicated to 🌊 anon bc no one loves mp quite like them 🙏🏻

Kicking your feet, you sit at the edge of the hotel bed, watching your boyfriend pack the last few costume pieces into his gym bag. He looks so pretty in front of you; his dark hair is freshly cut but still long enough that some of his fringe dangles in front of his face. His body is strong and dependable, just like always, and his concentrated look adds cuteness to him despite his typical handsome charm. 

The room is filled with the quiet rustle of fabric and the faint scent of his cologne, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Your heart swells with affection as you watch him, every detail etching itself into your memory - the ripple of his muscles under his shirt, the furrow of his brows, and the gentle way he handles even the most delicate pieces. 

"I miss you," you blurt out, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them.

Sunghoon stops packing and looks up, his thick eyebrows raised in confusion. "Sweets, I'm standing right in front of you," he says, pointing to himself with a puzzled expression and a small, amused smile playing on his lips.

“I know, but we’ve hardly seen each other,” you begin, rising from the bed and approaching him with a slight pout. “We’ve been in the most romantic city in the world for the past four days, and I’ve seen you for a collective twenty minutes.”

Chuckling softly, Sunghoon shakes his head. “I mean, I am competing at the Olympics. That kinda requires my attention,” he explains, though the playful glint in his eyes betrays the lightness of his tone.

“I require your attention,” you counter, sulking slightly, though you’re aware of the unfairness in your complaint. He’s been relentlessly training for the biggest and final skate of his professional career, and here you are, feeling neglected because he is rightfully busy. You should be cheering him on and savouring every moment you get to spend together, especially since the competition is this afternoon.

Despite your unreasonable grumbling, Sunghoon's expression remains warm and understanding. With a gentle sigh, he pulls you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting your head against his chest. You can feel the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat and the slight rumble of laughter he’s holding back, a comforting vibration against your ear.

"Paris isn’t all that anyway. I mean, what is there to see anyway? Nice restaurants? The Louvre? The Wall of I Love You? Sounds awful if you ask me." The sarcasm in his voice is dripping with humour, each word teasing you softly.

You lift your head to look up at him, unable to suppress a smile at his exaggerated complaints. His eyes, filled with a mix of affection and mischief, meet yours. “You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head but feeling your heart lighten.

Sunghoon leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And you’re my favourite distraction,” he murmurs, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin. “But I promise, Sweets, after this competition, we’ll have all the time in the world to explore Paris. And I’ll make sure to give you all the attention you deserve.”

His eyes gleam with the love he always shows you, but there’s a subtle shadow of uncertainty behind them. Though you haven’t been able to spend much time together since arriving, you’ve been by his side for months leading up to this moment. You understand how much this means to him.

Sunghoon’s training for this prestigious event has been nothing short of gruelling. Hours upon hours spent perfecting his routines, pushing his body to its limits, and honing his skills have left little room for anything else. It was his decision to leave the competitive world of figure skating after the Winter Olympics, shifting his focus to coaching and leading a less hectic life - a choice he is content with. However, this final performance carries immense weight, and the pressure is almost suffocating. Once it’s over, he can finally breathe, but for now, his lungs and heart are trapped in a cage of nerves and anticipation.

“How are you feeling about it?” you ask softly, pressing gentle kisses over his heart, hoping to soothe the tension you know is building inside him.

“Fine,” he replies, but the tightness in his voice betrays him.

You give him a pointed stare, silently urging him to be honest with you. His facade crumbles, and he lets out a heavy sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Shitting myself. If I fuck up, I don’t have a chance to redeem myself. This is what I’ll be known for forever.”

The weight of this final performance hangs heavily on Sunghoon’s shoulders. The relentless drive to be perfect, to deliver a flawless routine, feels almost unbearable. The thought of a single misstep, a minor flaw, is paralysing. He knows that in the world of figure skating, this performance will be his legacy. The pressure to be remembered as a champion, to leave the ice with no regrets, is a relentless force pressing down on him. His heart races at the mere thought of stepping onto the ice, every nerve in his body taut with the anticipation of the moment that could define his career.

“Hey,” you say softly, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’ve already proven yourself time and time again. No matter what happens, you’ve achieved so much. I believe in you, and everyone who loves you believes in you too.”

He shakes his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “It’s not just about what I’ve done. It’s about how I finish. Everyone remembers the ending, and if I screw this up...”

“You won’t screw it up,” you interrupt gently. “You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re more prepared than anyone else out there.”

“But what if I’m not?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly. “What if I stumble, or fall, or miss a beat? This is my last chance to get it right. There are no do-overs.”

You tighten your hold on his face, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “Listen to me, Sunghoon. You’re human. Perfection isn’t the goal, that is still the lingering words of your mum talking; it’s about doing your best and knowing you gave it everything you had. You’ve done that already. You’ve pushed beyond limits, and you’ve inspired so many people, including me.”

He closes his eyes, absorbing your words. “I’m so scared,” he admits, his vulnerability laid bare. “What if it’s not enough?”

“It is enough,” you say firmly. “You are enough. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right here, proud of you. Always.”

It’s not often you see your boyfriend doubt himself like this, not since his mum has been out of the picture and he has actually started to enjoy skating again. But you can understand why he is so nervous and self-diminishing his abilities. This is the Olympics, something that he has been dreaming about since he was a little boy. That would put a weight on anyone’s shoulder never mind it being the definitive.

You lean up and press a tender kiss to his lips, pouring all your love and reassurance into the gesture. He kisses you back, his grip on you tightening as if drawing strength from your unwavering support. When you pull back, you see a flicker of resolve in his eyes, a reminder of why he’s made it this far.

Sunghoon’s expression softens, a gentle smile spreading across his face. He nuzzles his nose against yours, a sweet and intimate gesture that makes your heart flutter. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs, his eyes glistening with affection as they lock onto yours.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, feeling a wave of warmth envelop you. “Well, good thing you don’t have to find out,” you reply, your voice laced with both tenderness and playful teasing.

He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you in a protective embrace, his fingers digging gently into your t-shirt. “I love you,” he whispers, his breath warm and comforting against your ear. “So freaking much, Sweets.”

“I love you too,” you murmur back, letting the words settle between you like a shared secret.

Sunghoon’s smirk suddenly makes an appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Alright, but seriously,” he says, leaning back slightly to meet your gaze with a teasing glint. “Who are you rooting for to win? Me or Minhee?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink at him in surprise. “I’m rooting for both of you, obviously!” you protest, your tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Sunghoon arches an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Come on, Sweets. Let’s say the stakes are higher. Gun to your head, who takes the top podium: me or Minhee?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, swatting at his chest playfully. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Minhee is my brother but also my client. It’s literally in my job description to root for him!”

Sunghoon chuckles, the sound resonating deeply from his chest, warm and infectious. “So, what you’re saying is, if it weren’t for your job, you’d be rooting for me?”

You roll your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to stay serious. “None of you will let this rivalry go, huh? It’s like you both live for these little competitions till this day.”

Shrugging, Sunghoon picks up his bag, slinging it effortlessly across his shoulder. "Old habits die hard," he replies, a sly twinkle in his eye. He reaches out and pinches your cheek gently, his touch light but affectionate. “But I’ll just say you want me to win.”

As you open your mouth to retaliate and defend yourself, he leans in and plants a quick, playful kiss on your nose. The unexpected touch makes your face flush with a delightful mix of embarrassment and affection. You blink up at him, momentarily disarmed by his endearing gesture.

Sunghoon’s grin widens, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Gotta go,” he says, stepping back with a playful wink. “Remember, I’m competing right after Minhee, so try to stick around that area so I can see you. Can’t win without my good luck charm rinkside.”

He makes his way toward the hotel door, his confident stride carrying him with an air of excitement. Just before he exits, he glances back over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and warmth. “I love you, Sweets.”

“I love you more, Hoon.”

_____

The moment Sunghoon walks into the changing room, he is hit by a mix of heat, sweat, and deodorant. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, every sports locker room is the same, even when he used to share it with the hockey boys at the Albion. Sunghoon is a particularly clean person, however, so the sight and scent are still disgusting to his senses.

What is a sight for sore eyes though, is his best friend Minhee sitting under his assigned peg as he ties the laces of his black, shiny skates, his facial expression serious though the task is mundane and easy to carry out. 

That’s the thing about competition day, everything is charged to 100 and even the simplest of actions can feel like a monument. And since this has been Minhee’s ambition - even competing at the Olympics never mind winning - he is feeling the pressure like he is a car under a compressor, two seconds away from being crushed scraps and thrown into the heap with the rest of the junk.

Despite that, when he hears someone approaching, he looks up to see his rival-turned-friend-turned-rival for one last day and plasters a smile on his face, hiding the tension in his frame.

“Hey, Hoon,” he greets simply, straightening up to look at him, squinting his eye slightly at the overhead light casting a heavenly glow around the skater. He doesn’t know what watt they have in Paris bulbs but he sure as hell misses the dullness of the Belmore, never complaining about the flickering yellow and burnt bulbs again.

Returning his smile, Sunghoon sits beside him, clasping a hand onto the boy's shoulder and rubbing it slightly, emitting a similar feeling to a brief massage. “Hey, Min.” 

“How is my lover this morning?” Minhee winks, enjoying the relief from Sunghoon’s hand. He knew he should have taken up the offer for Wonyoung to give him a full body massage, but he didn’t want to get too loose, or the real reason, fuck her until his alarm blared cruelly in the morning.

Shaking his head, Sunghoon retrieves his hand and sighs, running it lazily through his locks. “Shitting a brick, to be honest. You?”

Spitting out a laugh, your brother nods. “Same. Once this is over do you want to get into construction? I’m shitting enough bricks to build a mansion.”

The sarcastic notion allows Sunghoon to relax and laugh alongside his buddy, the air a little lighter with the ease of the conversation. For Sunghoon, growing up with no friends in this field meant he only had his mum to confide in, who wouldn’t even let him air his worries, stating that it created a negative mindset and would ruin his chances. So having Minhee by his side is a welcomed change.

Your brother and boyfriend have gotten so close since Nationals that you have practically become the third wheel when they are together. You understand, though; as much as you love and empathise with the gruelling training and pressure, you will never understand them the way they do one another. 

And with Minhee now crazily in love with not only your boyfriend but his girlfriend Wonyoung, it means you get to spend time with her too.  She’s been teaching you how to skate and sharing insights from her own experience managing herself, which has been incredibly helpful for your role as Minhee’s manager. You love having her around, and double dates have become some of the highlights of your life.

Unzipping his duffle, Sunghoon begins to retrieve his handmade costume, looking at it with unfiltered awe. Rina outdid herself this time, the black sheer top with black and red gemstones splattered over it in the shape of a deconstructed heart fits perfectly with his heartbreak-themed performance. You had come up with the idea to skate to a song that signifies farewell but nothing obvious like Adele or Lewis Capaldi, something that people would remember. Eventually, after listening to hours of playlists curated on Spotify, some named after ex-lovers or ‘songs to get over One Direction too’, he finally settled upon Porter Robinson’s Goodbye to a World. It’s not what he is used to, the electronic track a stark contrast to his usual melodic symphonies, but with the song signifying a bittersweet end that promises brighter days ahead, he couldn’t think of a better song.

Once your best friend and Sunghoon’s self-proclaimed stylist heard the song, she came up with this jewelled masterpiece. She felt heartache with a slice of redemption in the lyrics, hence, the heart isn’t broken or whole, it is simply there to feel how it wants to as it trails up his side and over his chest.

Minhee glances over at the top and smiles brightly. “Looks good, man. I’m going to steal her once you retire,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes. He had already messaged Rina the moment he found out she was the one who designed the famous blue National outfit.

“I’m sure she’ll be more than willing,” Sunghoon replies fondly, hooking the top behind him. “She’s changing her final project to costume design. You can be her model. Just be prepared to give her some freebies from those new brand deals you have.”

Ever since you became Minhee’s manager, you’ve done a far better job than your mom did in her 15-plus years of managing him. Brands lined up at the door as soon as Nationals were over, eager to partner with Korea’s number one skater. The initial wave of attention was overwhelming. Your first day on the job was filled with countless emails about potential sponsors and multiple love letters asking you to play matchmaker.

But you made it clear to Minhee that these decisions were his to make. After years of your mom forcing him into deals he didn’t care about for quick cash, you insisted that he choose the ones he genuinely wanted, and you would handle the details. Being the brother you know and love, the first sponsor he accepted was Aston Martin. The promise of a new car to impress Wonyoung was too tempting to resist.

Laughing, Minhee nods in agreeance to Sunghoon’s statement, already planning to steal some cosmetics from the Black Rouge shoot he has in two weeks. 

Finishing up his laces, your brother stands and checks the stability of his skates, wobbling back and forth a few times. “I can’t believe we need to get dressed and everything just to wait around for hours,” he complains, thinking about the long wait ahead. The pair have at least 5 hours to wait before they can even take to the ice, and with no practice rink like the Nationals, it’s a waiting game.

“I know,” Sunghoon agrees, beginning to get changed, discarding his casual clothes. “Y/N was hinting at spending some time together this morning. I felt so bad leaving her when I could have taken her to that La Bossue cafe she was talking about on the plane here,” he says regrettably, sleeking his black slacks on.

If anyone understands, it’s Minhee. This is his and Wonyoung’s first holiday together, even though they’re both competing. He wants to spend time sightseeing and kissing her outside Sacré-Coeur Basilica.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he picks up one of Sunghoon’s skates and starts unhooking the strings. This is a trust that had to be rebuilt, especially after what happened between them, but it’s a gesture Minhee likes to do as a constant apology for his previous actions.

“How is my Bubs anyway?” Minhee asks, referring to you. Your absence when he woke up this morning meant he hadn’t seen you yet. It’s not very professional from a client-manager perspective, considering this is the biggest skate of his life, but he’ll let it slide since Sunghoon probably needs your presence more right now.

“Adorably clingy and beautiful as always,” Sunghoon replies, his tone filled with adoration as he recalls your pout when he said goodbye this morning.

The love painted on Sunghoon’s face makes Minhee’s expression fall into fake annoyance. The older skater pretends to gag, a running bit he does whenever you and your boyfriend get a bit too mushy for his liking.

Once Sunghoon has his sparkly costume fully on, he notices Minhee’s antics and rolls his eyes. “Oh, get over it, Min. We’ve been together for over half a year now,” he smirks, snatching his skate from Minhee.

“Don’t I know it? I’ve been stuck watching you both eat each other’s faces for the past four months,” Minhee grimaces in disgust.

“Well, I hope you haven’t been watching me eat your sis-”

“Right, that’s my cue to get the fuck out of here,” Minhee interrupts, raising his hands in mock surrender. The playful banter and easy camaraderie between the two skaters are a testament to how far they’ve come. Sunghoon's laughter fills the room, rich and genuine, a sound that brings warmth to the moment.

“I’ll meet you out there, save me a seat,” Sunghoon says, settling back onto the bench to lace up his skates. His fingers move with practised precision, threading the laces through the eyelets with ease. He glances up briefly, his eyes meeting Minhee’s, a silent communication of mutual respect and friendship.

Minhee pauses at the door, turning back with a mischievous grin. “Do you want anything from catering?” he asks, his eyebrows quirking in a playful challenge.

Sunghoon’s response is immediate. “Yeah, grab me a chocolate muffin.”

Minhee’s expression shifts to one of exaggerated horror, his eyes widening theatrically. “The ones Henrik guards with his life? You want me to die?”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Sunghoon’s mouth, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Minhee laughs a deep, infectious sound. “Give me a kiss and I’ll think about it,” he teases, leaning in with puckered lips, his face comically close to Sunghoon’s.

Sunghoon pushes him away with a playful shove, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Get out of here, you idiot,” he chuckles, his tone filled with affectionate humour.

Minhee backs away, still laughing. “Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can do about that muffin. But if Henrik comes after me, I’m blaming you,” he says, pointing a finger at Sunghoon before disappearing out the door.

Sunghoon finishes lacing his skates, a fond smile lingering on his lips. Talking with his friend like this has helped ease some of the lingering apprehension and doubts in his mind. If Minhee can remain calm, or at least fake it, when this skate means just as much to him, then Sunghoon can do it too.

He’s going to make everyone proud out there, especially himself.

_____

You stand nervously next to Minhee, holding his hand impossibly tight as you both await his first Olympic skate. Honestly, you might be more nervous than him. For months, you have watched him batter and bruise his body attempting to perfect the hardest move in his routine—the Quadruple Lutz.

At Nationals, Minhee did the impossible and landed a quadruple Axel, a feat almost unheard of in figure skating. The moment was surreal, the entire arena holding its breath as he launched himself into the air, his body spinning at a dizzying speed. For what seemed like an eternity, he hung in the air, a blur of motion and grace. When his blades touched down on the ice with a clean, precise landing, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. It was his greatest achievement, a moment of sheer perfection that few skaters ever reach.

Despite this triumph, Minhee knew better than to put his faith in landing it again at the Olympics. The stakes were higher, the judges more stringent, and any minor mistake could cost him dearly. The fluidity and overall performance were crucial here, and a fall on such a difficult jump could overshadow the rest of his routine. Instead, he had decided to go with the Quadruple Lutz—a move that, while safer than the quadruple Axel, was still incredibly challenging and demanding.

For months, he has landed on his ass, the echoes of his chosen song "Home" by Daughter becoming his laughing track until finally, he was able to do it with some ease. Minhee has a habit of getting his blade caught in the toe before launching, a flaw that Coach Kim has grilled him over time and time again because it is a stupid mistake that can easily be remedied.

That is what is weighing him down. He feels confident in his routine, but that one slip could be the difference between standing on a podium and leaving with his tail between his legs. Resting your head on his shoulder, you offer silent encouragement as you see one of the coordinators come over, signalling that it's almost time.

"Minhee," you whisper softly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. "I believe in you. You've worked so hard for this, and you've overcome so much. No matter what happens out there, you’re already a champion in my eyes.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of nerves and gratitude. "Thanks, Bubs. That means a lot," he murmurs, a small, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You squeeze his hand gently, your thumb brushing reassuringly over his knuckles. "Remember, it’s not just about the jumps. It’s about the story you tell out there. Skate like you’re sharing a piece of your heart with everyone watching. And if you get nervous, just think of Wonyoung and me cheering you on. We’re with you every step of the way."

“Y/N, you’re not gunning for my job too are you?” Coach Kim interjects with a teasing tone, poking his head from behind Minhee. You were so wrapped up in nerves you almost forgot he was there. “She’s right though, Min, performance is key here, if you think you can’t do any of the jumps, substitute it and we’ll take the deductions. They will be less than if you crash.”

Minhee takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He nods, a determined glint returning to his eyes. "I don’t need to sub, I can do everything,” he replies with arrogance but you can see the tremble in his chin as he speaks, nerves seeking their way out of his body in any way they can.

“You have been spending far too much time with Park, your cockiness is extra heightened.” Coach Kim slaps him on the back, touch lingering there for added assurance. If anyone believes in him as much as you do, it’s Coach.

The coordinator gives the final signal, and Minhee stands up, releasing your hand but not before giving it one last, firm squeeze. "See you on the other side, Bubs," he says with a wink, trying to infuse some lightness into the moment.

You watch as he heads towards the rink, feeling a mix of pride and anticipation. "Go get em’, Mini," you whisper under your breath, knowing that whatever happens, Minhee is ready to give it his all.

He steps onto the ice, and the world narrows down to the crisp sound of his skates carving through the surface and the soft, haunting melody of his chosen song filling the arena. The starting pose is simple yet powerful: Minhee stands tall and poised at the centre of the rink, his back straight and his gaze distant. His arms are extended slightly, creating a frame of elegance around him. The music begins softly, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, drawing in the calm before the storm.

As the music swells, Minhee starts his program with a series of intricate footwork sequences. His movements are fluid and precise, every step and turn executed with grace. His body flows seamlessly from one movement to the next, the choreography reflecting a deep, emotive connection with the music. The audience is captivated by the narrative unfolding on the ice—a story told through every glide, spin, and leap.

Minhee’s first major element is a series of spins, beginning with a fast, clean camel spin. He transitions into a sit spin, his body folding gracefully as he maintains a steady, controlled rotation. The audience watches in awe as he moves effortlessly between the spins, his form perfect and his speed unbroken.

The anticipation builds as he nears the pivotal moment of his routine - the quadruple lutz. Minhee takes a deep breath, his focus sharpening as he glides toward the takeoff point.

He picks up speed, his skates slicing through the ice with powerful, rhythmic strides. As he approaches the takeoff, you can see the concentration etched on his face. The quadruple lutz requires a precise and powerful launch, and Minhee’s years of hard work have led him to this moment. He performs a deep, smooth edge before leaping into the air.

From your vantage point, the moment feels almost surreal. You can see the determination and the slight tension in his body as he completes each rotation. His landing will determine the success of this routine. As he descends, his blades graze the ice with a delicate touch. You watch with bated breath, the entire arena silent, waiting for the impact.

He lands the jump cleanly, his body absorbing the impact with a controlled grace. There is a brief pause as he glides out of the jump, his movements smooth and confident. The audience erupts into gentle applause, filling the arena. Minhee’s face lights up with a mix of relief and elation, his eyes briefly searching the crowd for a glimpse of familiar faces.

When he comes across yours, a blur due to the rapidness of your jumping, he knows he’s done enough to make you proud, which wouldn’t be hard, but it’s nice to see you buzzing with glee now that he has successfully landed his hardest move, giving him enough confidence to finish his performance with intentional but relaxed tension.

As the music reaches its climax, Minhee performs a series of intricate step sequences, his footwork sharp and precise. His movements are quick and expressive, reflecting the emotional high point of the routine. He concludes with a final pose - his arms extended, his body arching gracefully as he holds the position for a heartbeat before the music fades.

The final note lingers in the air as Minhee holds his ending pose. The arena is a sea of applause and cheers, and Minhee takes a moment to soak in the overwhelming response. He smiles, a mixture of relief and pride evident in his expression, as he skates to the edge of the rink to greet his coach and the one person who has been by his side every step of this journey.

You watch with tears of joy in your eyes as Minhee glides toward you, his performance complete. The routine has been a triumph, a testament to his dedication and skill. Whatever the final score, you know that this moment will be remembered as a defining achievement in his career. After all, he had just performed a flawless routine at the Winter Olympics.

Minhee approaches the side of the rink and his face reflects a mix of relief and exhilaration. He bends down to carefully slip on his protective blades. The clinking sound of the skates against the ice seems to punctuate the end of his extraordinary performance. Once he's secured his blades, he makes his way toward you, his steps light but purposeful.

Without a word, you rush forward and envelop him in a tight, joyous hug. The embrace is fierce and full of unspoken pride and admiration. Minhee’s arms encircle you, holding you close as he buries his face in your shoulder. For a moment, the world around you fades away, and it’s just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of shared triumph and emotional release.

When you finally pull back, you can see the glistening in Minhee’s eyes, his smile wider than you’ve ever seen. “You were incredible,” you whisper, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Bubs.”

“Sure you could have, you’re the Kang Minhee after all.”

“Who is nothing without the Kang Y/N,” he retorts, ruffling your hair playfully as the emotions in his body swirl and threaten to overflow through his eyes. But he holds it together, knowing that he still has to wait for the score, easily the most nervewracking part.

As the scores are about to be announced, you both sit with Coach Kim in the waiting area, hearts racing in unison. The scoreboard flickers to life, and the crowd holds its collective breath. The numbers slowly come into focus, each digit reflecting the culmination of months of hard work and dedication.

You glance at Minhee, who is watching the scoreboard with a mix of hope and anxiety. The realisation that he has done everything he possibly could, that his performance was nothing short of spectacular, brings a surge of pride and love.

The first number flashes, followed by another, and then the total score is revealed: '324.60'. The audience erupts into a thunderous roar, and you can barely contain your excitement. Minhee’s face lights up with an ecstatic grin as he takes in the numbers, a little dumbfounded to believe it.

Your eyes quickly scan the leaderboard, and you see the name Yuga Kagiyama at the top. The Japanese skater has posted an even higher score, placing him just ahead of Minhee. But Minhee’s score is nothing short of extraordinary, putting him in a close second place. The competition is fierce, but Minhee’s performance has clearly made a significant impact, and with only Sunghoon and one other skater to take to the ice, his chances of snagging an Olympic medal are high.

“You did it, Minhee!” you exclaim, hugging him tightly again, overwhelmed with pride. Your brother is about to be an Olympic medalist, something you have heard him go on and on about since you were little, and here he is achieving it with you by his side.

You and Minhee embrace, the weight of the moment sinking in. Your eyes brim with tears of joy as you hold your brother, feeling his heart pounding against yours. Coach Kim wraps an arm around both of you, his normally stern face softened by pride and emotion. The three of you stand there, on a small triumphant island amid the chaos of the cheering crowd.

Coach Kim gives Minhee a shining smile, his voice thick with emotion. "You've worked hard for this moment, Minhee. This is your victory. You've earned it with every drop of sweat and every ounce of effort."

Thankful, Minhee puts his hand on Coach Kim’s shoulder and sighs a final breath of relief, happy to have the pressure off his shoulders. "We did it, Coach," he murmurs, a smile playing on his lips. Coach Kim nods, giving Minhee a firm pat on the back, his pride evident.

After a few more moments of celebration, officials signal that it's time to move. As you're escorted towards the exit, Minhee suddenly stops and jerks his head back towards the rink.

"Sunghoon is on next," he says urgently, his eyes locking onto yours. "He’d want you there. Go be by his side."

You hesitate, looking around. "But they won't let me since I'm not part of his team." The rule is that only managers and coaches can be at the rinkside to see off and greet their skaters, and since you are none of those things, the chances of you being able to sneak back and be there for him are slim.

Minhee shakes his head, determined. "He's only got Coach Lee, trust me, he needs you there with your disgusting puppy love eyes to give him support," Minhee jokes, pushing you back the way.

You laugh despite your nerves, touched by Minhee���s playful yet sincere encouragement. "Alright, alright, I'm going!" You rush back towards the rinkside, heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The official looks puzzled as you approach, but you quickly explain, "My boyfriend, Sunghoon, he’s on next and it’s his last ever skate before retirement and if I’m not there by his side I would be such a shit girlfriend and he would never forgive me and we would break up and then you would be responsible." 

The words tumble out your mouth at record-breaking speed, hearing the announcer already calling out your boyfriend’s name through the tannoys. You don’t mean to guilt trip the poor girl but you’re desperate and couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t try. Either this works or you will throw a tantrum until she has no choice.

Luckily, The official nods quite willingly, allowing you through. “If anyone asks, I never let you by,” she whispers in a thick Parisian accent, stepping aside to let you bolt through. With a quick thank you, you weave through the throngs of cameramen and other personnel to find Coach Lee standing with his arms crossed and face serious.

Once he sees you, his expression lightens, and he tucks you in under his arm. "Glad you made it, Kiddo," he says, his voice low. "He'll be happy to see you here. Give him an extra boost."

Sunghoon glides onto the ice, his face a perfect blend of focus and determination. The music begins, his ears infiltrated with the electronic beats as he hears every word, ready to skate his last competition and start a new life, one where you are his main focus and not the ice.

Sunghoon starts with a series of fluid crossovers, gaining speed before launching into a triple axel, landing perfectly with barely a sound on the ice. The crowd gasps and then applauds, already captivated. Without missing a beat, he transitions into a combination spin, showcasing his flexibility and control, his body a blur of movement. He looks regal out there, the gems from his top catching the light and adding another layer of beauty to it.

As the music swells, Sunghoon prepares for his next big element - a quadruple toe loop. This was difficult for him, something Coach Lee had suggested as his power move, which he spent forever perfecting, both in the rink and out. For a few weeks, he even attempted it on a trampoline to get the projection right. He was so dedicated to making this work that you feel his nerves bouncing off each glide on the ice and straight to your chest.

You hold your breath, watching as he launches into the air, rotating four times with precision before landing smoothly, his blades slicing the ice like a whisper. You resist the urge to cheer loudly, knowing it can throw him off, so instead, you settle for the audience etiquette of light applause.

He moves into a complex footwork sequence, his feet dancing in intricate patterns across the ice, each step perfectly synchronized with the music. His expression is intense, every movement telling a story of passion and struggle, triumph and heartache, beginning and end.

The middle of his routine is marked by a stunning triple lutz-triple loop combination, each jump executed with flawless technique. His body seems to defy gravity, hanging in the air for what feels like an eternity before descending gracefully back to the ice.

Sunghoon's artistry shines in the next segment, a series of choreographic elements that flow seamlessly, his arms and upper body movements expressive and emotive. He glides across the ice in deep edges, his body language conveying the emotion of the music, drawing the audience deeper into his performance.

As the final crescendo of the music approaches, he gears up for his closing element, a breathtaking quadruple salchow. He takes a deep breath, pushes off, and flies into the air, rotating perfectly before landing with strength and grace. The audience erupts in applause, unable to contain their awe at the sheer perfection of his routine.

Sunghoon finishes his performance with a dramatic final pose, the music reaching its climactic end as he holds the position, his chest heaving with effort. The arena is filled with the sound of thunderous applause and cheers, the crowd on their feet in a standing ovation.

He bows deeply to the audience, his face flushed with exhilaration. When he straightens up and turns around, his eyes immediately find yours. His expression changes instantly, his eyes widening in surprise and joy. A brilliant smile spreads across his face, mirroring the elation in your heart.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sunghoon skates over to you at speed, his movements as graceful and powerful as they were on the ice. He reaches you in what feels like no time, pulling you into his arms with a mix of laughter and tears in his eyes. It was the perfect passing-the-torch moment, leaving the ice behind to run to you and your future together.

"What are you doing here?" he questions, still trapping you in an iron grip, his voice filled with amazement and joy.

"I couldn’t not be here, it's your last skate," you explain, your voice trembling with emotion. "I had to see it up close. I had to be here for you."

His grip tightens, his head burying into the crook of your neck, grounding himself in your presence. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I’m so fucking happy you’re here.”

You hold him tightly, feeling the rapid thud of his heart against yours. Tears of pride and happiness stream down your face as you soak in the moment, the culmination of all his hard work and dedication. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and you see the deep gratitude and love reflected in them.

"You were perfect out there," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "Every single moment was incredible. I've never been so proud of you."

“I love you like crazy,” he confesses with the same amount of passion he put into his routine. His lips find yours in a kiss filled with fervour and emotion, the world around you fading away. The noise of the crowd, the flashing cameras, and even the bright lights of the arena all dissolve into a blur as you lose yourself in the kiss.

Sunghoon's hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the heat and intensity of his love. The kiss deepens, each of you pouring all the emotions of the night into this singular, powerful moment. It's a kiss that speaks of triumph, of shared dreams, and of a future together that you both can see so clearly.

When you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, you rest your forehead against his, your eyes locked onto his. "I love you too, Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice full of conviction and tenderness. "More than anything."

Just then, an official approaches, reminding Sunghoon that it's time to get his score. He looks at you, a mixture of reluctance and determination in his eyes. "I have to go," he says, his voice steadying. "But meet me in the hotel lobby at 7pm? I have something planned for you,” he says ominous, a mischievous glint twinkling in his dark orbs.

You mindlessly nod, head racing to come up with conclusions to his riddle. But you know better than to try and guess what Park Sunghoon has in store, instead, you give his lips one final kiss before letting go. “I’ll be there.”

He nods, taking a deep breath as he turns towards the judging area, taking the same spot that Minhee did moments ago. He just had to get in the 310s to get bronze, which is by no means feet. But you know he secretly wants the gold, knowing that it’s the perfect icing on the cake for his career. 

You glance up at the board, nervously switching between biting the skin around your fingers and your lip. Of course, you were nervous for Minhee, but he had at least one more shot at Olympic gold, Sunghoon didn’t. That mounts immense anxiety onto your chest, hoping that he can achieve victory the way he wants.

The first number flashes on the screen, followed by another, and then the total score is revealed: "331.75." The audience erupts into a thunderous roar, the sound almost deafening.

Sunghoon's eyes widen in disbelief and joy as he takes in the numbers. 

He won…first place.

The realisation is gradual, knowing that no matter how good the next skater is, beating a score like that is near impossible, with their average being 287.20, he knows he’s secured gold. Jumping up from his seat, Coach Lee crushes him in a bone-breaking hug, lifting him so his skates are off the ground. 

“My fucking champ! I knew you could do it!” he shouts loud enough that the cameras pick it up and probably has to be bleeped to the millions of viewers on the other end, yet, you know they can probably make out how excited and proud the coach is despite the redacted words.

Laughing, Sunghoon nods, eyes roaming the area for you. He wants you to be the first thing he sets his sights on because, without you, this wouldn’t be possible. Your expression is a mix of gratification and pride, your gazes meeting as they whisper poems of love and adoration, even through the distance. 

He owes you his entire life for making him see the joy in this strenuous sport once again, and he is going to do everything in his power to repay you for it, and he has his entire life to do so.

_____

Waiting in the lobby at precisely 7pm, you anticipate the arrival of your gold medal-winning boyfriend. In the time between his victory and now, you’ve managed to doll yourself up a bit. While he and Minhee were training the past few days, you took some time to go shopping, picking up a few bits and pieces. Your brother is generous with manager fees, so you can afford to spend a little extra while you’re here.

Now, you are clad in a stunning black Krysta Tulle Mini Dress, reminiscent of the one you wore at your award ceremony back in August, but this one is a bit shorter and more revealing. Sunghoon earned it, after all, and the least he deserves is some cleavage with whatever he has planned.

Speaking of his plans, you’re still in the dark about what he has in store for you. Your mind wanders to the obvious choices like the Eiffel Tower—perhaps he’s managed to get a private dinner booking like you see in movies, or maybe the Louvre instead. Perhaps he’s planned a romantic walk across the love lock bridge; although you can’t participate and adorn the bridge with a new lock that signifies your love, it’s still romantic to see all the lovers of the past and how their stories are still shared.

Suddenly, there is a gentle tap on your shoulder. You turn around to see your boyfriend standing there, looking as handsome as ever. His hair is styled in the side parting you always liked, with that one strand curving over his face, somehow highlighting the bridge of his nose which you love so much. Those freckles mark frequent kissing spots.

You’re glad you decided to dress up because Sunghoon is wearing a fitted suit, chic and beautiful, perfectly matching the city’s aesthetic. He looks like a vision, your mind swirling with love and a hint of desire. You’re just a girl, after all—it’s only natural to see your man in a suit and the first thing you want to do is rip it off.

Sunghoon’s breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes widen, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire world falls away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the softly lit lobby. He’s always known you were beautiful, but tonight, dressed in stunning frills under the gold-hued lobby of this overly expensive hotel, you look breathtaking.

His heart pounds in his chest, and he feels a wave of emotions wash over him - pride, adoration, and a deep, overwhelming love. The dress hugs your curves perfectly, the short length showcasing your legs, and the neckline draws his eyes to your exposed collarbones and the soft swell of your cleavage. It’s alluring without being overt, and he can’t help but marvel at how effortlessly you pull off such a look.

“You look...wow,” he finally manages to say, his voice filled with awe. His eyes trace over you, taking in every detail - the confident way you hold yourself, the sparkle in your eyes that mirrors his own excitement, and how your heart is beating in synch with his. 

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to fuck you so bad,” he whispers, low enough that only you can hear it.

A laugh erupts from your chest before you swat him with your hand. “You are not getting out of taking me out in Paris just because you can’t keep it in your pants. You roll your eyes to convey annoyance but it’s hard to even feign being stern with him when you were thinking the exact same thing about him.

That fuck buddy sex drive you had never left once you got into a relationship, that much is evident.

“Well,” Sunghoon says, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, “I’m not exactly taking you out in Paris.” He turns around, leading you back the way you came from. His sheepish tone is accompanied by an apologetic look flashing across his face as he walks you towards the elevator.

“Hoonie, I swear to god, if you made me get all dressed up just to take me back to your hotel room to fuck, I will be so mad. I-,” you struggle to think of a bargaining chip in this fight. “I won’t let you eat me out ever again.”

Sunghoon stops dead in his tracks, turning to you with wide eyes and an even wider mouth, his free hand dramatically resting over his heart. “How dare you threaten to take away my favourite activity? That is cruel, so cruel, even for you.”

You can't help but laugh at his theatrics but by Sunghoon’s standards, this is actually quite tame considering the cards you have dealt. He can’t go three days without being between your legs so the punishment you would inflict by taking that away from him is worse than any torture interrogation method. 

“Well, you deserve it if you think you can just drag me back to your room.”

Smiling and slightly proud, Sunghoon resumes his position, walking you to the lift and pressing the button. “It’s not my room. It’s a surprise. Just trust me, okay?”

Of course, you do trust him, but your heart beats quicker as you realize you really have no idea what you are getting yourself into.

Stepping into the elevator, Sunghoon presses the rooftop button and you eye him curiously. “The rooftop?” you question, but before you can guess further, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Shhh, don’t try and spoil the surprise I worked so hard for,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your neck. His lips trail soft, teasing kisses from your jawline to your collarbone, each one sending shivers down your spine.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, a mix of adoration and desire in your tone. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and the anticipation is killing you. His hands roam gently over your back, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you. The warmth of his body and the intoxicating scent of his cologne make it impossible to think straight, any questions about the roof now gone.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Sunghoon reluctantly pulls away, yet a satisfied smirk sits on his lips as he leads you out onto the rooftop.

To your surprise, the usually bustling terrace is completely empty. Instead of the usual crowd, there is a single, elegantly set table for two. Soft fairy lights twinkle around the perimeter, casting a warm glow. A bottle of champagne sits chilling in an ice bucket on the table, and beyond it, the Eiffel Tower stands majestically, its lights shimmering against the night sky.

You walk forward, admiring the view of the city from this vantage point. It’s full of night tourists and young lovers who share the same depth of feelings as you and Sunghoon do. Never has a place taken your breath away. Granted, you haven’t ventured much out of your home country, but this is unlike anything you could have imagined.

Leaning over the stone balcony, you let out an almost inaudible 'whoa' and cherish the view. “Sunghoon, this is beautiful. How did you manage this?”

He chuckles, pulling out the cork of the overly-priced champagne. “I have my ways. Why would I take you to something a million and one couples do when I can give you something unique?” Sunghoon’s pouring skills leave much to be desired, the overflow of the liquid spilling onto the ground, splashing on his shoes.

Although it should slightly ruin the moment, you can’t help but tear your eyes away from the city and laugh at the less-than-aesthetic scene before you. Sunghoon looks up at you with a sorrowful expression and hands you the damp glass anyway.

“You know, I was aiming for elegance,” he says with a playful pout.

Taking the glass from him, you grin. “I’ve learned you can only do elegance when it comes to skating, it’s okay, baby.”

He relaxes, the tension easing from his shoulders as he joins you at the balcony. Together, you raise your glasses, the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the background. “To you,” he grins brightly, tilting his glass to be clinked with yours.

“To me? Shouldn’t it be to your gold medal?” you ask a little incredulously. This night should one hundred percent be about your boyfriend and his deserved win, so why on earth is he cheersing to you right now?

“My gold medal doesn’t mean anything compared to you.” Sunghoon is so sweet with his words, to the point you wonder if he came straight out of a romance novel. But knowing your boyfriend better than anyone, you have a sneaking suspicion about something, more precisely about something possibly around his neck.

Narrowing your eyes, you lower your glass and hold it close to your chest, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re wearing that medal right now, aren’t you?” you challenge, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon attempts to play it cool, shaking his head with a feigned look of innocence. “What? Me? No way. I’ve not got an ego,” he says, but the slight twitch of his lips gives him away.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Sunghoon, I can see right through you.”

He sighs, realizing there's no use in denying it. With a sheepish grin, he dips his hand into his shirt and pulls out the gleaming gold medal, letting it sit in the lights for a moment before tucking it back in. “Fine, you caught me,” he laughs.

You give him a weird look, your confusion evident. “Why are you wearing it under your shirt?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful glint in his eyes. “What? I like the way it feels,” he admits, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Not everyone has a gold medal.”

You shake your head in disbelief, eyes rolling as you take your first sip of the golden liquid. With the city of love sprawled out beneath you and the Eiffel Tower twinkling like a thousand stars, the moment feels perfect. Sunghoon wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as you both gaze out at the stunning view, savouring the magic of Paris and the joy of being together.

“You know,” he begins, placing his flute down, “I also like the way you feel,” he breathes out seductively, both hands twirling you to face him. As mesmerising as the city is, the look of need in your boyfriend’s eyes trumps it all.

His hands rest on your hips, fingers gently kneading as he draws you even closer. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “How did I get so lucky?”

You smile, feeling a flutter in your chest, like a million butterflies have just escaped their cocoons and are roaming free around your ribcage. “I’m the lucky one,” you reply softly, tracing your fingers along the edge of his jaw.

Sunghoon’s eyes darken with intensity as he tilts your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other’s embrace. The night air is cool against your skin, but his touch is warm, grounding you in this perfect moment.

The kiss deepens, becoming more fervent with every passing second. Your heart races as his hands roam your body, caressing and squeezing in all the right places. You clumsily place your glass down beside his, but it’s hard to concentrate because his hands are everywhere - one gripping your waist, the other sliding down to cup your ass. He pulls you closer, pressing your bodies together, his need palpable in every touch.

His mouth moves hungrily against yours, each kiss more intense than the last. You can feel his desire, his longing, in the way he devours your lips. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you can’t get enough of him and the only way to be satisfied is to crawl into his skin. His kisses trail down your jawline, nipping and sucking gently at your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

When he reaches your neck, you gasp, your head tilting back to give him better access. He takes full advantage, his lips and teeth working magic as he moves down your throat. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you against him as he nibbles and licks at your sensitive skin. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps, the sensations overwhelming.

Just when you think you can’t take any more, he drops to his knees in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, and you glance around, worried about being seen. “What if someone sees?” you whisper, your voice shaky with a mix of fear and excitement.

Sunghoon looks up at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Then I’ll make sure we put on a show,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. The thrill of his words sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but tremble in anticipation.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them to the side. The cool night air hits your exposed skin, making you shiver. But his touch is warm, his fingers gentle as they slide against your most sensitive places. He looks up at you one last time, his eyes filled with desire and mischief, before he leans in, his mouth pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against you.

The sensation is electric, his tongue teasing and tasting, driving you wild with need. Your hands grip the stone balcony for support, your legs trembling as he works his magic. He’s relentless, his mouth and tongue working in perfect harmony.

Just like the first time he ever tasted you, he’s losing himself in your flavour, manually putting your legs around his shoulders to allow him deeper access to your dripping cunt. The juices that are leaking from your body are better than any gold medal. Each cry that passes your lips is accompanied by more of your sweetness coating his tongue.

You can’t help but grip his hair now, holding him in place as he lavishes attention on your aching clit. He savours your taste, his tongue flicking and circling with expert precision as he laps you up. Long, slow licks are interspersed with quick, teasing flicks, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He knows exactly what you need, and he gives it to you without hesitation.

Sunghoon's mouth moves with purpose, sucking gently at your clit before delving back with his tongue, exploring every inch of you. He hums against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation that has you arching your back and moaning his name. The heat builds inside you, an inferno that only he can control.

He intensifies his efforts, his tongue pressing harder, his movements more deliberate. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as you writhe against him, completely lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, forgetting that with every mewl of his name, there is a greater risk of this entire hotel knowing what you’re up to. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

Finally, the tension that’s been building inside you snaps, and you cry out, your body shaking with the force of your release. Sunghoon doesn’t stop, his mouth and hands guiding you through every wave of pleasure until you’re spent, leaning back against the balcony for support. Sunghoon shoulders most of your weight as you fold in on yourself, your feet still dangling over his broad shoulders.

Sunghoon wastes no time. He gently places your feet back on the ground and rises to his full height, his eyes dark with desire. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, and you taste the remnants of your own release on his lips, mingling with the champagne. It's intoxicating, the mix of flavours and the intensity of his kiss making your head spin.

All apprehension goes out the window as you begin to undo his trousers, your fingers fumbling with the button and zipper in your eagerness. You pull out his cock, feeling its hard length throbbing in your hand. His eyes remain locked on yours, the connection between you unbreakable as you guide him to your entrance. The city lights behind him create a halo around his head, making the moment feel almost surreal.

He pushes into you slowly, and your breath hitches at the sensation. Your eyes remain focused on one another, the world around you fading into the background. The feeling of him filling you is overwhelming, the connection between your bodies electric. The city behind you twinkles in the night, a backdrop to the raw, passionate scene unfolding.

Sunghoon starts moving, his pace quickening as he finds a rhythm that makes you both gasp with pleasure. Your body responds to his every touch, your legs wrapping around his waist to allow him to reach deeper. His thrusts become faster and more desperate, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your moans and the distant hum of the city below.

"God, you feel amazing," he groans against your ear, his voice thick with desire. "I could stay inside you forever."

You grip his shoulders tighter, your nails digging into his skin as you feel the pressure building again. "Sunghoon," you whisper, your voice breathy and needy, "don't stop."

"I won't, I’ll never stop fucking you. I’ll never stop loving you," he promises, his thrusts becoming even more intense, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands roam your back, one slipping down to squeeze your ass, the other tangling in your hair to pull your head back, giving him better access to your neck.

In a moment of heated passion, he takes his gold medal from around his neck and places it over yours, the cool metal resting against your heated skin. He uses the ribbon to pull you closer, bringing your lips together in a bruising kiss. The weight of the medal and the intensity of his gaze make you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

Leaning on the balcony behind you with your elbows, you try your hardest to jerk your hips in rhythm with his, the motion causing him to hiss into your mouth as he tip punctures your cervix a few times, giving him a taste of something more. It’s too dangerous to throw your legs over his shoulders and have you balancing on the edge, he never wants to put you in danger, so he thinks if the next best thing.

Without warning, he flips you around, pressing your front against the cool stone of the ledge. He enters you again from behind, his thrusts more intense, driven by a primal need. The contrast between the roughness of his movements and the serene beauty of the city below is stark, making the moment even more exhilarating.

You brace yourself against the balcony, your moans echoing in the night as he pounds into you with relentless enthusiasm. His hands grip your hips, guiding you back onto him with each thrust, his cock hitting deeper than ever before. The force of his movements sends shivers down your spine, your body completely surrendering to the pleasure he's giving you. The city behind you is a blur of lights and sounds, but all you can focus on is the man who is driving you to the edge once more.

Sunghoon's hands grip your hips with a possessive strength, his fingers digging in as he drives into you with a relentless pace. Each thrust is purposeful, his body moving with a precision born of passion and familiarity. His breaths come in staggered gasps, his face pressed against your shoulder, lips brushing against your skin. The rough stone of the balcony presses into your chest, adding a contrasting chill to the searing heat of his body. The city lights below seem to blur as the intensity of the moment takes over.

"I'm gonna love you until the day I die," he growls into your ear, his breath hot and needy despite the sweetness of his words. The weight of his desire is palpable, sending shivers down your spine. "I can’t wait to make you mine."

His words are a catalyst for the pleasure that courses through you, intensifying with each powerful thrust. Your body is on fire, a taut string being pulled to its limit. You can feel the pressure building to a breaking point, the sensation almost overwhelming as he keeps up his relentless rhythm. The sheer force of his movements pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm yours," you gasp, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own moans. "I’m already yours, Hoonie." Your hands grip the railing tightly, knuckles white, as you brace yourself against the force of his thrusts. The night air is cool against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the burning desire you feel.

Sunghoon’s breath becomes ragged, each inhalation coming in quick, shallow bursts. His fingers slip around your body, finding their way to your clit with a precision that makes you cry out. The touch is electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through you with every stroke. He moves his fingers in tight, swirling motions, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

The combination of his skilled touch and the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts is too much to handle. Your body trembles violently as you spiral into another intense climax, the sensation causing you to scream his name into the night. The release is all-consuming, leaving you feeling as though you’re floating in a sea of pleasure.

The intensity of your release acts as a trigger for Sunghoon, who is lost in the frenzy of the moment. With a final, deep, and forceful thrust, he comes inside you, his body tensing and shuddering as his climax overtakes him. His grip on your hips tightens, his muscles flexing as he rides out his orgasm. He collapses against your back, his breathing ragged, and you can feel his warmth spread across your skin.

Both of you pant heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. The city below remains a beautiful, shimmering backdrop, but the focus of your world is now on each other. The contrast between the intensity of your passion and the serene beauty of the Parisian night is almost surreal.

Sunghoon pulls you gently against him, his lips trailing soft, tender kisses along your neck as you both come down from the high. His hands caress your sides, a soothing contrast to the earlier fervour. “I love you so much, Sweets.”

The confession passing his lips isn’t new and you’ve heard it umpteen times just today but somehow this one means a lot more than previous. Maybe it was the setting or the fact his cock is snuggly inside of you, but either way, you cherish it just like the rest.

“I love you, too, Hoonie.”

Sunghoon’s movements are gentle as he pulls out of you, his touch tender and careful. He reaches for a soft napkin from the table, using it to clean both of you with practiced, considerate strokes. The contrast between the cool fabric and the warmth of his skin creates a soothing sensation, a calming end to the intensity of your shared experience. His eyes are locked onto yours with a depth of affection that makes your heart swell. It’s a gaze so filled with love and tenderness that it feels almost surreal, as if you’re both suspended in a perfect, unblemished moment.

“This was perfect, Sunghoon,” you murmur, your voice soft and filled with genuine appreciation. The night has been magical, a blend of romance and intimate connection that feels like a dream. “Thank you.”

Sunghoon’s face lights up with a beaming smile, his eyes twinkling with an emotion so raw and pure that it almost makes you catch your breath. He shakes his head in a modest gesture, though the joy in his expression is unmistakable. “Believe it or not,” he says with a playful glint in his eye, “this wasn’t what I had planned.”

“Oh?” you reply, your curiosity piqued as you watch him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue.

With a dramatic flourish, Sunghoon reaches into the pocket of his suit and retrieves a small, elegant box. He presents it to you with a blend of excitement and nervous anticipation, his hands trembling slightly. “I have something else for you,” he says, his voice a blend of excitement and tenderness.

Your fingers tremble as you take the box from him, the weight of the moment sinking in. You open it slowly, revealing a delicate necklace with a beautiful ring attached. The ring sparkles softly in the low light, its beauty undeniable. Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on you, his expression a mixture of hope and love.

“I wanted this day to be unforgettable,” he begins, his voice steady but emotional. “When I first saw you that day, crying in Belmore, I knew I needed to protect you from anything and everything bad in the world. I know, our start was rough and we had way too many close calls that tore us apart. But we did it, we got through it which makes me think we can really get through anything.”

He breathes out slowly, before taking his glass from earlier and downing it for dutch courage, causing you to laugh through the bubble of emotion in your throat. 

“I thought now, that everything is done and I’m not going to be Ice Prince Park Sunghoon that I need a new title and that could be Y/N Kang’s husband?” The smile grows on his face as he imagined being addressed in such a way, wearing it as a badge of honour. “So I got you this. You can wear the necklace for now, and when you’re ready to be my wife, you can take the ring off and put it on your finger.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the significance of his gesture. The necklace is elegant, the ring a symbol of commitment that transcends the ordinary. Tears of joy well up in your eyes, and you struggle to find the right words. “I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, overwhelmed by the depth of his love. “This is...it’s beautiful.”

Sunghoon’s gaze remains locked on you, his expression a blend of adoration and nervousness. He watches as you carefully lift the ring from the necklace and slide it onto your engagement finger. The fit is perfect, and as you look up at him, your smile radiates happiness and awe. “What if I’m ready now?” you ask, your voice trembling with emotion.

Sunghoon’s face softens, his eyes shimmering with tears of joy as he reaches out to cup your face in his hands. His touch is gentle and reassuring, and he leans in to press a tender kiss against your lips. “If you’re ready now,” he mumbles against your lips, his breath warm and comforting, “then I’m ready for forever.”

The world around you blurs into insignificance as you both embrace, the enormity of the moment enveloping you. The city lights below shimmer like a vast constellation, their brilliance echoing the love and joy that fills your hearts. In the perfect Parisian night, amidst the twinkling lights and the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower, you and Sunghoon stand together, united by a love that feels as boundless as the city itself. The promise of the future stretches out before you, a journey you’re ready to embark on together, hand in hand and heart to heart.

perm taglist (sorry if you didnt read the series): @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @monstanctiny21 @strawberrysavi @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull @yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm @star-hoon

[itsnevercasual]

Uptown Girl

pairing: fashion designer!harry x younger!fashion designer!reader

summary: you’re working in a designer boutique, and just so happen to have a late entrance when world-renowned designer harry styles visits for a collaboration. he seems to take a liking to you, and you aren’t sure if that makes you relieved or more anxious

warnings: some cursing, not edited as usual

-

harry styles was a well-known name. ceo and founder of pleasing, a nail polish and perfume company. he also owned many other companies, but really, there were too many to keep track of. he was also, most importantly, one of the biggest fashion icons.

you were very familiar with him— had saved up every penny when you were younger to buy a pleasing perfume and now owned a very small collection of their nail polishes.

so, of course, you lost your shit when you found out he’d be coming into your job.

you were a fashion design major at nyu, and had gotten a job at a very esteemed designer (not one of the name brands, but still). although you did expect the job to have more opportunities to.. actually design fashion, you were still grateful nonetheless.

it was just your luck that the day that harry styles was coming in, you were late. it wasn’t your fault! really, it wasn’t! you were always on time because you got anxious at the mere thought of being late.

by the time you parked, you practically ran to the store, silently praying you wouldn’t break a leg as you were running in heels.

“i’m not late am i?” you ask breathlessly as you finally enter the store, fixing your hair and outfit.

you had curled your hair the night before, so they were still pretty much intact. your outfit consisted of black heels, brown dress pants, and a black, tight-fitting turtleneck.

“yes, y/n. you are late,” your boss gave you a look, and you knew you’d be in trouble. “mr. styles, i am so sorry. our employs are.. usually punctual.”

your head snaps over to look in the direction she was talking, and your heart drops when you make eye contact with harry styles.

great.

“mr. styles, i am so sorry,” you apologize.

“it’s perfectly alright,” he gives a kind smile.

that makes you feel a bit better.

“y/n, a word in my office please.”

you deflate as you look back to your boss and follow her to her office

the second the door is closed, she’s chewing you out.

“how unprofessional can you be? i know you are in college, but jesus christ!”

“i’m sorry! there was so much traffic, and my car is so old it stops working if i go faster than 50, and—“

“i don’t need excuses,” she cuts you off. “i need you to be more professional.”

you inhale, “i am sorry, but it was not my fault. i have never once been late before, and you know that. it was a one-time mistake.”

“it better be.”

she walks out and slams the door to the office, leaving you alone in there.

you look up to the ceiling as you bite your lip and try not to cry.

after taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you walk back out into the otherwise empty store and slap a smile on your face.

you do your usual tasks of tidying the store and fixing the mannequins.

mr. styles, his team, and your boss (her name was diane but she was more like satan) were all working on sketching designs and throwing some fabrics onto the mannequins to get a rough idea of what they wanted.

“i don’t know if i like it,” mr. styles murmurs, staring at the mannequin. you glace over at it and have to force yourself to not make a face.

no shit, he didn’t like it. it was bad.

the sketch was good, but the color combination was all wrong and the whole thing was too.. chunky. in the way that everything was flowy and baggy, so it had no shape.

“well, what do you not like about it?” diane asks.

“i’m not sure. it doesn’t look quite right.”

“you have to fix the shape,” you say to yourself as you fix the files of custom orders to be done.

“what was that?”

your head snaps up, and you realize he heard you.

“oh. uh.. i was just—“

“talking to herself,” diane interrupts, glaring at you. “she’s an intern. don’t mind her.”

“no, i’d like to hear what she has to say. might have the answer to our issue. let’s hear it— what was your name again?”

“y/n l/n,” you squeak out.

“well, y/n, what do you think is wrong?”

you hesitantly walk over, “well.. i can see the idea. but it’s just not.. executed well. the whole thing is too flowy.”

“isn’t the point for it to flow?” he asks, raising a brow.”

“it is,” you answer quickly, “but.. there has to be something that isn’t as.. baggy, i suppose. something has to be tight-fitting. it doesn’t have any shape. it just kinda.. looks like a box.”

he stares at you for a moment, and diane clears her throat.

“y/n, this is time for the professionals. get back to—“

“no, diane. she is.. she’s right. it does need shape.”

at his words, the people around him begin to pin it differently.

“and the colors,” you rush out. “the colors don’t.. it’s supposed to be a statement piece, right?”

“that’s the goal,” he nods.

“well.. the colors are too.. light. they’re more pastel, which is fine, but for it to really be a statement, it’s better to use brighter ones. or at least make one of them brighter. i would.. i think make the base the brighter one.”

diane looks ready to kill you.

mr. styles laughs, “well, don’t you know a lot? diane, where did you find her? wish my interns knew half as much as her.”

your face grows hot.

“she’s a student,” diane sighs.

“a student?” he asks.

“i… uh.. i study fashion at nyu. fashion design— i’m in my last year.”

he seems to sense that you're damn near about to shit your pants, because he grins at you (slightly patronizing, but also kind), before turning back to diane.

"i'd like her to be with me for the rest of the project. y/n, darling, how much are y'makin' here?"

your stutter, "uh--... $15 an hour."

he tuts his tongue like that's horrible, "i'll pay.. ten times that while y'workin' with me."

your eyes widen, "wh-- that's not-- you don't have to--"

"nonsense. it's what most people i work with start with. i'll up it if needed, of course. and you obviously don't have to, but i'd love your insight."

"i-- no, i-- i'd love to, i.."

"great," he grins, and you're extremely dizzy. what the hell was going on?

"uh.. mr. styles, if i may give my opinion," diane pipes up.

"you may," he eyes her skeptically.

"y/n is a student. she's still learning, and she's never worked on anything here. it's very risky to--"

he cuts her off by asking you a question, "have you designed things? sketched 'em out and all that?"

you nod.

"i'd hope you've also done the whole... actually sewing things together and really making them?"

you nod again.

he turns back to diane, "seems like she's got experience," he looks back to you, "do y'have photos of any of those?"

"yeah-- they're.. i think i left them in my car. i have photos on my phone."

"we'll meet later to look at all that, then. i'll give you my number later. for now.. i'd like your input on our other ideas."

-

for the rest of the day, you follow harry around, and you sort of feel like a lost puppy just following him around and answering when he asks something of you.

after a while, you got more comfortable giving your input without being prompted, but you always tiptoed around what you were really trying to get at in fear that you'd anger him.

at the end of day, he put your number in his phone with the promise that he'd text you later about more details.

-

the text came three days later.

From: (Maybe): Harry

Hello, Y/N. This is Harry. Would you be free to meet tomorrow at noon to discuss the details of the project? Please bring your sketches and any photos of designs you've done, and anything else you feel necessary.

To: Harry Styles

Hi! I should be free tomorrow, yeah. Where do you want to go?

From: Harry Styles

I'll let you decide.

To: Harry Styles

There is this one coffee shop named Maman?

Sent Location: 239 Centre St, New York, NY

From: Harry Styles

Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Have a nice rest of your day.

To: Harry Styles

You too!

-

you spend the rest of your night fretting about what to wear. you were stuck in between classy but not too fancy, but also not too casual. comfy, but not so comfy that you looked like you didn't give a shit. but also not so uncomfortable that you were, well, uncomfortable, and looked like you were trying too hard.

you'd eventually settled for something simple. long, light-wash denim skirt, a plain black top, and some mary janes. you tied some of your hair back with a white ribbon, did some natural makeup, and called it a day.

you got to the coffee shop at 11:45 and ordered your drink, as well as a chocolate croissant.

harry walked in at exactly 12:00, and grinned when he saw you sitting at a table, scrolling on your phone with a manilla folder and sketchbook beside you.

-

really, you can't blame him! you were pretty, he'd have to be blind to not know that. and really, you weren't that much younger than him.

he's 29, and you're 23. he's not a stalker, he just did a background check like any good business person would do.

so what he finds you cute? the relationship would be strictly professional. besides, you deserved a break from your horrible boss. contrary to what diane thought, the walls were not soundproof, and he could hear her chewing you out.

sure, he'd done that to one of his employees once or twice, but it was always deserved, and never on the first time of being late. that was ridiculous.

"good morning, y/n," he greets. your head snaps up to make eye contact and he has to force himself to not laugh. he wasn't laughing at you, per se. it was more so the fact that he found it amusing how jumpy you seemed around him.

"good morning. did you order?"

"not yet. never been here, so i've got no clue what's good."

you open your mouth to respond, but the barista calls out, "large iced honey lavender latte with a pain au chocolat for y/n!"

you give a sheepish smile and run up to retrieve your food and drink. when you come back, you take a sip of your drink and set what looks to be a chocolate croissant down on the table.

"well, i'm more of an iced coffee girl. and i also don't really like the taste of coffee, so i've got a bunch of sugar in mine. what do you usually drink?"

"'m more of a black coffee, to be honest. iced is fine, but hot's better."

you wrinkle your nose, "i don't know how you stand the taste of coffee. it's so bitter."

"better than what you've got!" he laughs, "might as well just down a sugar packet."

you giggle at his teasing, "only psychos drink plain black coffee. this," you hold up your drink, "is so much better."

"oh, is it now?"

"yes, it is," you cross your arms proudly.

"lemme have a taste."

you hand over the drink, and he takes a small sip before coughing, "christ, y/n! that cannot be good for your health!"

"hey, i'm still alive, aren't i?" you shrug.

“that you are.”

“well… just ask for an americano, i guess. the rest of their drinks are kinda sugary and fun.”

he got his drink, and once the both of you were sat down, he got to business.

“so, how long have you been designing?”

“i’ve been doing it since middle school. i.. uh.. i saw that one american girl doll movie. where she was a designer. and i just got obsessed. obviously they weren’t good, but…”

“so you’ve got a lot of experience then?”

you nod. he grins.

“may i see the sketches?”

you grab the folder off the top of the sketchbook and pass it over to him.

he flips through it in silence for a few minutes, and you anxiously nibble at the skin around your fingernails.

“..so?” you ask.

“they’re great. really, you’ve got talent. i can’t draw for shit, so you’ve got me beat,” he laughs.

you laugh with him, “most of those are just ideas, i’ve never made them. but i have photos of the ones i have made. i printed them so it’s easier.”

you pass over the manilla folder, and he opens it to look at all the photos you’d printed out. there was around fifty— those were just the ones you actually liked and were confident showing.

he holds one up, and your cheeks flush. “why’s this the only one where you’re the model?” he asks.

“that was.. uh.. that’s my senior prom dress.”

his eyes widen, giving you an impressed look, “you made your own prom dress?”

you nod, “i just wanted something very specific, so.. i figured i’d just make it myself.”

“y’look great— the dress looks great,” he coughs. “you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” you blush.

“so tell me why someone as talented as you is working in diane’s shop not designing a single thing?”

“i didn’t realize that was the job. i just got excited when my professor told me they were interested in my work, so i took the job. i thought i’d at least do a little designing, but.. it pays.. decent, though.”

he scoffs, “darling, 15 bucks an hour is not decent pay. that’s what you make being a hostess. you’re an artist. someone would pay thousands of dollars for just your sketches.”

“i don’t think i’m that good—“

“you are,” he’s firm. resolute. there is no room for argument with him. “i think you’ll be a great asset to the project. i could use your… talent. i’ll send you an email with the nitty gritty details. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

and with that, he stands and leaves, leaving you to sit there, dumbfounded, confused, and grinning.

-

a/n: guys i have too many series going on 😭😭

[gatorbites-imagines]

Maybe a Steve Rogers x Male Reader with a choking kink???🤔

Steve Rogers x Male reader

Headcanons

i miss stevie so much, i still live in denial about endgame to this day.

I’ve had so little free time to write for the past while, and I’ve been living off of energy drinks for the past couple of weeks, but I hope y’all still enjoy this :3c

Now, there’s two scenarios that could be put. Who’s the one with the thing for choking? You or Steve? It would be pretty similar either way, but seeing as Steve is a super soldier can do a bit more than you, or needs a bit more than you.

If you are the one that likes to be choked, Steve is your guy. I mean, have you seen his hands? Big, sturdy and he has super strength, and the training to control said strength.

He would also be all about safety, meaning he looks up different guides and diagrams on how to choke a person correctly, where to put pressure, where not to put pressure, for how long, and so on. There would be no fun times without safety being there.

But when you guys have set everything up, made safewords and safemotions, and have discussed what needs to be done, Steve is all for it, in private of course. He wouldn’t be the type of person to do anything like that in public, since choking can be dangerous if done incorrectly, and since he wants to keep it private.

When you guys are in private though, I could imagine Steve being a bit of a tease. Like when you guys are cuddling on the couch, Steve will hook his arm around your neck in what seems like a casual hold, but you both know if he squeezed a bit, your air would be cut off just enough to leave you lightheaded.

Steve would also be bold enough to grab you by the throat, safely of course, to pull you into a kiss, where he would dig his fingers in just right to make you a bit dizzy. So he would steal the breath right out of your mouth with his kiss, and keep you from taking more in with his grasp.

Steve also gives the best praise, his words almost making you just as dizzy as his hands and arms. You would regularly find yourself in a headlock, your back against Steves sturdy chest as he whispers praise into your ear, his arm releasing just enough for you to gulp down air when you need it, before he cuts it off again.

Afterwards, Steve would make sure you are fine, get you something to drink, and what else you might need for your neck. Being the man he is, Steve would most likely also run a medical check, just to make sure it didn’t cause any lasting damage. He’s not above dragging you to medical, if need be.

If Steve is the one that likes to be choked, there would still be a focus on safety, but you might have to put your foot down and have to enforce it at times since Steve has a habit of pushing himself.

Being a super soldier also means Steve needs more than just your arm or hand around his neck most days, if he really wants his vision swimming. That is, if you don’t have super strength as well, where you could just pull the same moves as if It were Steve doing it to you.

You might have to use some professional assassin moves, if you don’t want to use any equipment. Natasha doesn’t question just why you want to learn how to take down a guy like Steve by choking, but you have a feeling she knows.

You guys would have to tie up his hands and legs as well, since the body tends to react when being choked, and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you with his flailing, unless you can withstand it. He doesn’t have a preference, sometimes he quite likes his hands being locked together, since it helps him get into whatever mental state he wants to go into.

Steve is as much of a sucker for praise as the next guy, so please praise him and coo at him as you choke him out with whatever you are choking him out with. Be it your arms, your legs, or some kind of collar or even chain.

He doesn’t mind degradation as well, so if you guys are doing some kind of play don’t feel too bad pulling some stuff on him, since it always just helps him give up more of the control he wants you to take.

You always have to keep an eye out when you choke Steve, since like I said earlier, he likes to push his limits. Its nothing against you, he just doesn’t want it to end even when he knows he should safeword or safemotion.

But if he does pass out, you know what to do, just like he would know what to do with you if you passed out. This is where Steves long talks about safety come in handy, since you can get him into the right position and get him comfortable so you can take care of him when he comes too again.

All in all, it can go both ways, and either way, Steve finds safety most important for both of you the entire time, as he should.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (1)

Meeting The Maximoffs

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

Meeting The Maximoffs

The sound of the bell rang around the room, Professor Stark in front of the first row, reminding everyone in the class to have completed the assignment by Monday before returning to his desk, fingers moving to type away at his keyboard, presumably writing an email about the assignment as people were flooding out of the door, his words falling on deaf ears. You made a mental note to complete the task before grabbing your backpack from the ground, quickly placing all your books and notes away before hurriedly leaving the room and the college campus.

The sound of directions filled your earphones as you looked down at your phone, the screen displaying a map with a blue line to lead you towards your destination of the house you were going to be babysitting at. Your gaze flickered between the screen and your surroundings as you stepped off the bus after thanking the driver, your mouth parting when you turned the corner your phone told you to. The street of houses here had you looking at them in awe, the area clearly wealthy judging by the houses that you felt should be referred to more as mansions.

Your feet carried you to the intended house, your hands nervously putting your phone away and fixing your outfit a little before ringing the bell of the large house. While waiting for someone to answer, your fingers fidgeted with one another as you were unsure of what to do.

Soon, the door swung open to reveal a tall blonde man with striking blue eyes dressed in professional attire, a soft smile that was definitely not genuine covering his face as he offered his hand out to you.

"You must be Y/n," you took his hand, shaking it briefly and trying not to grimace at his firm grip while nodding at his words.

"Yes, that's me sir," you say, noticing how he appreciated the formality, "You must be Mr Jarvis?" He nodded his head and moved to let you into the house, you follow behind him while your eyes scanned the hallway.

A smile took over your face at the sight of a photo of two young boys, both grinning ear to ear in the photo as they were dressed up in Halloween costumes, one in a sky-blue jumper with silver lightning bolts running across it, the other in a navy jumper and red cape flowing behind him. Your eyes flickered over to another photo this time of the two boys and a woman but before you could look any more at it you heard your name being called from another room.

"So," Mr Jarvis started, "I'm not sure how much you have discussed with my wife over the phone, so I'm going to cut to the chase and make sure we're both happy with everything." You sat opposite the man, listening attentively to what he was saying, a little shocked by his forwardness though. "You are to look after the twins, make sure they do any schoolwork, keep them entertained and feed them," the way he was speaking made you think it was something rehearsed, something he didn't actually care about but had to make sure was done, "Be in bed by nine if neither of us are home and that's pretty much it. It will most likely be Monday to Friday as my wife and I both work, and you will need to be on time as my work only lets me out to pick the boys up from school to bring them home. We'll pay you in cash afterwards."

"What time will I need to be here for you to go back to work?" you ask, praying that it fits with your class schedule.

"By four at the latest," he looks down at his watch, noting the time and standing to grab his suit jacket that was draped over the sofa. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work," your eyes widen at his words and follow after him.

"Wait, I'm starting now?" you practically blurt out, your nerves doubling every second he continues to get ready to leave the house.

"Yes," he answers shortly before walking to the bottom of the stairs and calling the twins down, "Tommy, Billy, come down here." The sounds of feet running down the stairs fill your ears as you see the two boys from the photo come into sight. "This is Y/n, your new babysitter so listen to her and behave," he ruffles both of their hair, one of them seeming to not like the action, before turning back to you. "Any issues, call or message Wanda," with that said he makes his way out of the house, the sound of the door shutting echoing inside your head.

At least you were good with kids... right?

With a nervous expression, you look at the boys who have smiles on their faces, pure excitement emitting from one of them, the other clearly more timid than his brother. You crouch down and give him a comforting smile, tilting your head to the side as you smile at the other.

"I'm Y/n," you offer the more confident brother your hand, his smaller one taking a hold of yours and shaking it a little too enthusiastically making you laugh.

"I'm Tommy," he says, teeth showing as he seems to like the idea of having a new babysitter. "This is my brother Billy," you give a soft smile to Billy who gives a small one back.

"Well, how about we have some fun now we've got the house to ourselves," your tone is playful, both of their eyes lighting up at your words.

"Can we be ninjas?" Tommy rushes out, your eyes widening once again. His brother laughs at your shocked and equally confused reaction.

"I..uh.. Sure, we can be ninjas if we want to," you chuckle out, "But after we play, we have to do our schoolwork." They both groan a little, but you raise your eyebrows at them, making them giggle at the fake serious look you were giving them.

An hour ago, if someone told you that you were about to play ninjas with two nine-year-olds you would have simply laughed in their face, now look at you. "Do you want to be a ninja too Billy? Or do you want to be someone else?" His face lights up at your question, your heart melting a little at his shyer nature.

"I can be something else?" He looks to his brother who is already doing karate moves in the air, your gaze following his and mouth tugging up into a smile. You nod at him and wait for him to think of something he wants to be. "Can I be an astronaut?"

"Of course you can," your tone is cheery, and you stand upright, mirroring the position Tommy was in. "So, we have a ninja and an astronaut, what's the first plan of action for tonight?"

"We have to sneak into the living room and defeat the bad guys!" Tommy exclaims, taking his role seriously and crouching down, slowly creeping towards the room. You copy him, watching as Billy also mirrors the action, and gradually make your way into the living room. You have to hold back your laughter when Tommy and Billy both check the corners of the other doors in the house before they leap into the living room. Billy doesn't fight as many bad guys as Tommy, the latter slicing his palm through the air and punching imaginary figures. "We did it!" he cheers, face beaming up at you as he goes to high five you.

"We did," Tommy looks proud of himself while you turn to his brother, "Now, I think it's time for a mini trip to space for our little astronaut over here."

Moving to the middle of the room, the boys either side of you, you bring your hand up to your mouth in the shape of a radio. "Pshhht, this is your captain speaking," chuckles fill the room with the voice you put on as well as the awful static noises you try to make. "Are we Psshhhht," another set of laughter, "Are we ready for take-off?"

"This is astronaut Billy saying he's ready," he says, eyes full of joy while he looks up at you. Tommy also says he's ready and you put your captain's voice again.

"Taking off in 10...9...8...7," the twins joining in with the countdown.

"6...5...4...3...2...1!" At the end of the countdown, you lift Billy off the ground, swaying your body around with him earning a squeal of surprise and excitement. You place him down after a little more flying through space, his brother pretending to steer the spaceship.

"And that concludes our space mission," they both pout a little, trying to make you guilty for ending the fun so soon.

"But we never flew back to earth," Tommy counters, you just shaking your head at them.

"If we all do our schoolwork then maybe we can fly to another planet then back to earth," you reason, the twins practically sprinting to go and get their homework. You sit with them at the table, pulling out your own work to do while they start theirs.

You want to say many, many things about the work Mr Stark gave you to do but refrain from saying them due to two little people sitting near you. Your pen scribbles word after word for your assignment, your gaze occasionally flickering over to the others to make sure they are doing their work and understand it.

"Y/n?" you hear Tommy say, "Can you help me with my maths question?"

"Of course I can," you move your chair so it's next to his, your eyes searching the paper for the question. You notice he's doing fractions and wish your work was like these fraction questions instead of an entire essay on science theories. After a few minutes of explaining, a flash of realisation and understanding washes over his face while he tries another question on his own.

The sound of the door opening catches your attention, your eyes checking your watch to see that it's just gone half five. You wait at the table with the boys who haven't seemed to notice someone's home until she walks in.

Your mouth parts slightly at the sight of the woman, no, the goddess that just walked into the room. A smile that could brighten any room, mesmerising green eyes that practically enchant you and auburn locks cascading down her back with a few framing her face adorns her perfect figure, your mind lost for words at the beauty of this woman. The boys rush over to her, hugging her and letting her lean down to press a small kiss to their foreheads before turning all of her attention to you. The expectant look on her face suggests she asked you a question, making you flush at the intensity of her gaze.

"Uh... pardon?" you say, embarrassed from being too captivated by her to listen. She simply smiles at you, nose scrunching at your nervous state.

"I said 'You must be Y/n, the new babysitter," there's a slight teasing in her tone as she repeats, "It's lovely to finally meet you face to face."

"You too, Mrs Jarvis," you awkwardly say, Tommy and Billy going off to watch Tv as they claim to have finished their work.

"I actually go by Miss Maximoff," she corrects politely, "And no need for formalities, call me Wanda, dear." The way her words have a slight accent to them has your face flushing even more, especially at the term of endearment. "I hope they behaved for you," she says, her head looking over her shoulder at her boys sitting on the sofa, engrossed with the cartoon currently playing.

"They were perfect for me Miss Ma-" Her eyes look over at you, eyebrow raised, "Uh Wanda." Your flustered state must have amused her as she let out an angelic laugh, your mind desperately wishing to hear that sound again. Your gaze travelled to the twins, your mind replaying the surprisingly fun afternoon you had. Stuck in the memory, you don't notice the way Wanda looks at you, an undecipherable glint in her eyes before her words break you out of your thoughts.

"Well thank you for taking such good care of them and somehow managing to get them to do their work," she jokes out, before reaching into her purse to find some cash to pay you. She offers you £50 and your eyes widen at how much she's giving you.

"That's way too much Wanda," you say in disbelief, you would have been happy with £10 never mind fifty. "I only looked after them for two hours," she shakes her head at you dismissively and takes a hold of your hands, placing the money there. You're too busy trying not to panic at the feeling of her hands on yours to stop her from pulling away.

"I can already tell they love you, so please take it," her eyes hopeful that you won't try and refuse once again. "Consider it a starting bonus," she argues, and you open your mouth in protest but close it almost immediately after as you can't think of anything to say to make her change her mind.

"Thank you," you say, looking up with an extremely grateful expression, "This really means a lot to me." You see the questioning look in her eyes and avert your gaze to your watch to see the time. "Um, I'll be going now if that's ok?" you move to the table to pack your books away, trying your hardest to ignore the feeling of her eyes on you.

"Yes, that's fine dear," when you turn you see a soft expression on her face and silently thank her for not pressing any further. "Billy, Tommy, say goodbye to Y/n," she calls, and the boys come rushing towards you with wide eyes.

"But we still have to go to another planet," Billy says, Tommy nodding his head along to what his brother says.

"And we need to get back to earth," Tommy adds, your heart clenching at the worried expressions on their faces. You look over to Wanda who just has a confused but entertained expression on her face. You move closer to them, Wanda even more intrigued by what was happening.

"Pshhht this is your captain speaking," they giggle at the static noise again, Wanda letting out a chuckle at your fake voice, your cheeks flushing as you look back at her. "Mission to Mars will happen on Monday, Pshhhht and mission back to Earth will happen afterwards," the worry washes from both of them at the promise of continuing the game before they rush over to hug your legs.

"Goodbye Y/n," they both say, then walking back to the sofa as you pull your backpack on and walk towards the door with Wanda close behind.

"Thank you once again for taking such good care of them," her voice is gentle as she holds the door open for you.

"It was honestly no problem, Wanda," you step out of the house, turning back to her before leaving properly, "They're amazing kids, you should be really proud of them." A small tint of pink covers her cheeks at your words

"Get home safely Y/n," her fingers brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I'll see you Monday."

You watch as she shuts the door, a smile on her face, and start to walk down the drive, whispering a small 'See you on Monday' to yourself as your mind fills with thoughts of a certain woman.

---

The journey begins...

I hope you enjoyed :)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

[purplifield]

🪻👻| Sucker

Kinktober

Hobie x reader; oral (f receiving), praise, soft, drop of overstim if you really read into it

You were chilling in your room, dark, stormy ambience overtaking it and soft music playing in the background as you did your work for the day. Suddenly a knock came from a window behind you and you turned to see none other than Hobie. You stood up to let him in, noticing the fewer cuts on his face

“Hobie, how many times will I have to tell you not to involve yourself in fights?” You scoffed, closing the window after he climbed in the room, chuckling and not saying anything as he tools off his boots.

“Aye, ‘s a small price for victory. I beat them into the fuckin ground” Hobie assured and turned to you to give a small, bloody kiss on your forehead, which you wiped off quickly. You motioned him to sit, searching for the first aid kit. Now it was just everything you needed to patch him up, but still.

“Only face and knuckles?” You asked coming in front of him and took his chin to examine the little wounds. He nodded, thankfully and you began to disinfect it. He winced.

“Nurses usually are way more careful, y’know? Especially private ones like you.” He grumbled and closed his eyes. You frowned and sighed in frustration, mumbling something about not appreciating you enough. He smiled slightly “Still love you tho”

One cut after another, you were done with those 4 quickly, moving to bandage his hands. These days you could call yourself professional with the speed of your work.

“Done” you took your supplies and put them away in you drawer. You searched around your desk “Oh and probably since I’m a ‘nurse’, you should get a sucker for enduring pain. Only if I found it..”

Hobie laughed at your act and stayed on the bed. He reached out to you “I would appreciate something to suck on, yea”

You look at him with a raised brow, but in a swift manner, he sat you down on the bed, kneeling in between your legs “Sucker is right here”

“Hobie-“ you felt how he eagerly tugged on the waistband of your sweats AND panties. You propped yourself up on your elbows, lifting your hips a little with a grumble. The cold air hitting your pussy made you shiver, yet to your dismay you couldn’t close your legs.

“Fuck, been waiting for this long” he whispered, air he breathes out feeling on your heat. He kisses your inner thighs and looks up at your stare, a little bitchy smirk on his face.

Like it was established, he was eager. He made sure to kiss your thighs and acknowledge them, but the main point was your wet pussy. He leaned towards, his hands comings up and a digit of his collected your juice, teasing your hole. He knew your buttons.

He kissed your cunt few times before dragging a long strip across it, the finger entering slowly. He made sure to ease you in, since this whole ordeal happened very quickly. But with this he was teasing more himself than you. So after a minute or two his tongue started drawing letters you couldn’t make out. He was pretty good at it, gaining more experience every time he made you cum.

“Hobes” you whispered softly, your head leaning back and eyes closed. He hummed against your cunt, the vibration making you squirm a bit, but he hugged your thigh and held it in place as he continued. He sucked on it softly, kissing the top afterwards. And it went for a long time, just you two in that position, you moaning at his tongue. Somewhere between there he entered a second finger but didn’t change his pace; he focused on working with his tongue rather than his fingers so his hands was moving quite slow.

But the buildup was there. You felt the little sensation in your stomach, trying to spread through your whole body but you held it for a bit, he knew you were close by hearing your breath hitch at any sudden move he did.

The moment it crashed upon you, you let out a whine and held your thighs together squeezing them a bit and holding him in place, the muscles weakening within a minute and he lifted himself with a smirk

“This nurse right here has some booomb suckers”

[joshslater]

Frat War

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Sweet dreams," he said and knocked on my helmet. Then he gave me the finger straight in my face. "See you tomorrow or whenever," turned off the lights, and closed the door.

I was alone in the darkness. The only sound I could hear was the vibrator, or perhaps I just felt it and imagined the sound. I tried to jiggle around a bit to see if I could get loose, but I was securely tied up. It wasn't uncomfortable, perhaps not surprising given all the padded sports gear they forced on me, but I would probably have burning muscle aches when they eventually cut me loose. Right now it was the pungent smell of locker room from the gear that bothered me more, or perhaps even more the sock gag they taped in place. It just kept leaking a foul, sour taste. They can't be this bad naturally so it must be because of the oil.

Fuck, I'm losing it. My mind keeps wandering and not focusing. I'll take it from the start.

So someone in the linear algebra class asked if I could walk by the KAX frat house on my way home and hand over some homework to Chase. I didn't recall seeing him before, but then the class lecture hall is large and some people are watching the classes remotely. I assumed we had spoken though, because how else would he know I passed the frat house on my route? "Sure," I said and grabbed the manilla folder from him.

After one lecture in mechanics, friction more specifically, I was on my way home. The KAX frat house was a weird-looking brick building that had been some sort of school before it was converted, with a decent-sized front garden. I walked up the gravel walk to the door and just as I was about to press the buzzer the door flung open and a half dozen dudes tackled me to the floor.

"Hey! Let me" was all I managed to shout out before someone stuck a rolled towel between my teeth. I was pressed down into the floor by several hands and knees. "You find it? Is it him?" someone asked. I could hear rummaging above me. "Yeah, it's here. Schematics, codes, everything. He even put it in a folder with KAX written on it. What a fucking stealth ninja."

I had been set up! For what I didn't know, but I started to struggle and shout pleadings to them, which probably came out as muffled nonsense. "Spritz him," someone else said, and soon after a pair of hands held my head still, while a third inserted something into one nostril, sprayed a mist into it, and I blacked out.

"He's awake," someone called out far in the distance, and I wondered who he meant. There was something in my mouth but as I tried to reach for it someone grabbed my arm. Slowly the frat house and the ambush came back to me and I opened my eyes. I saw myself in a large, wall-mounted mirror, sitting relaxed in an armchair that had been placed in a home gym. I was dressed almost completely as a football player. Cleats, socks, tight pants, undershirt, and two guys were about to tie the shoulder pads in place. I had two black streaks under my eyes and duct tape over my mouth keeping whatever in place. There was a funky smell of locker room as if the uniform hadn't been washed. "Almost done. Keep calm and don't struggle, and we won't knock you out again."

I wasn't sure what was happening, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't get far if I tried to fight them. The guys put on a football Jersey in the school team's colors, followed by elbow pads and gloves. Then they helped me up from the armchair and moved me over to their lat pulldown machine, I think it's called. It looked like it came from a professional gym that I imagine the frat had grabbed at some bankruptcy auction. In the few steps over I could feel something else was wrong. I had been so overwhelmed by the sensations of a full football outfit I hadn't noticed something was weird in the groin area.

Once seated on the machine the guys started to tie me in place with thick ropes. Another pair of guys carried the armchair out of the room so the only remaining furniture was gym equipment. I was still at a loss for what the purpose, as well as the reason, for all this was. In front of me one guy rolled up a white sock that was discolored as if it had been heavily used in black shoes. He then picked up a small bottle, unscrewed it, and used the dropper from the lid to squirt some liquid into the rolled-up sock. He then tore off a new strip of duct tape, ripped off the tape from my face, replaced the cloth in there with the sock roll, and taped it shut again. I figured if I resisted they would just use whatever that spritz was again.

"We have a private cannabis oil blend with some other shit mixed in that gives you these amazing sexual highs. Just rock hard for hours while you can space out to your favorite porn. Very dangerous to use too often or too long." He pressed a helmet on my head and locked it in place with the strap. "With the concentration you're getting, and released over such a long time, you'll end up forming completely new sexual attractions to whatever you're subjected to." He pressed something near my hip and I could feel what might have been a cockring starting to vibrate. "To what is however the question." He was about to leave when one of the other guys pointed at something on the floor.

He reached down and plugged in an air humidifier. "We put so much effort into this, and I almost forgot it. We've been pulling moisture out of gym clothes for months to create this experience for you. I'm really interested in what the outcome is. The original idea was to turn you gay for football jocks, but I think it's more likely you'll end up sexually attracted to locker rooms. Or bondage. Well, tell your bros at the frat we won the prank battle this year."

My mouth was filled with bitter, sour taste and my eyes started having trouble focusing on him.

"Fuck, it stinks. Let's leave boys before it sticks in the hair. I bet it takes weeks to get out. Sweet dreams," he said and knocked on my helmet.

[darkness-follows]

hey! i love your writing! there’s so little for Boyd x reader out there, so if you’re up for it could you maybe write something for him? maybe a little hurt/comfort and smutty?? he’s such a weirdo and i love him sm

thank you! and have a nice day :)

Thank you, thank you !!!! And of course!!! I hope the changes I made and the idea it turned into still all work for this !

Boyd x Female Reader

I'm still not over the end of City Primeval because it was so perfect and makes up for how in my opinion the other 7 episodes were a bit of a tough chew. Not bad! But not fantastic either.. but still, consider giving it a watch especially for the end of episode 8 for this mini multi part fic might spoil some things!!!!

It hurts so good aka a Justified: City Primeval sequal to the OG show with older Boyd and a Prison Guard reader who falls madly in love with him.

TW: Blood. Wounds. Prison stuff. Smut (cavity/strip search). Gross other prisoners.

Enjoy PART 1:

First day on the Job. A Female prison Guard in a men only Penitentiary, it takes a lot to stomach everything, the comments, the looks, the disgusting things prisoners say to you. But you prepared for this, you got trained for this and hell you will make the best of it! You get to meet the non violent prisoners first, the ones who aren't arrested for rape or torture or anything of that kind. It's also the first time you meet Boyd Crowder. Your family being from Harlan Kentucky you heard some stories..

You know of him, but not a whole lot about him.

Though mistakes happen in prison especially on a first day. Your partner accidentally left you alone with Boyd and another prisoner in the back of the kitchen. And men who were locked up for a long time...don't exactly behave the best towards a young, pretty attractive new Guard. "Didn't know they hire models" the prisoner says, it's a mild start but it gets worse and worse. Until he makes a move towards you, he grabs your wrist and tries to pull your hand towards his crotch "let go! Let go of me!!" You try to pull away but he's twice your size.

You hear a loud bang and all of a sudden the prisoner has his eyes snapped on Crowder.

"Jerry! That ain't how we treat women now is it? You better confess what you've done if you wish to sleep in peace tonight" Boyd turns to take the man's shoulder, guiding him slowly out of the kitchen. "You don't want any suprise visits tonight do you Jerry?" He whispers before he shoves him out of the kitchen.

Shaking his head "I'm sorry about that, some of em really don't know how to behave. You okay?" He asks and when your eyes meet his it's almost..magnetic. "hm? Oh! Yeah! Yes thank you, I was ready to get that taser out" You huff.

"Oh please there is no need to thank me, I'm sorry your first day went like that, I sincerely hope one bad Apple doesn't spoil the whole bunch for you now. There are some good men in this place." He points out. The way he speaks and the methaphor.. you heard he has a certain charm to him but seeing it in real life, hearing his buttery accent and the way he carries himself despite the orange prison attire? He's a bit Interesting..

"I'm known to hand out a few chances" You smile and open up the knife drawer with your keys. Your duty is to observe their cooking and Crowder was listed as green when it comes to kitchen supplies such as knives.

"Gotta admit I might be the same way, Lord knows I've been giving away chances like free candy" He takes one of the bigger kitchen knives to start cutting the vegetables Jerry was supposed to take care of. The way he keeps looking over his shoulder at you to talk makes you feel a certain kind of warmth. He's really making sure to adress you respectfully, keeping eye contact and not looking you up and down like the rest of em in this place.

"Well, thanks again Crowder." You nod. Keeping it professional.

🕐

2 weeks into a new job and it's safe to say that you adjusted well, you know who to trust and who to get along with, which prisoners are the nice kind and which ones are the bad. This place works like a perfectly oiled machine, everything is time based and the system of the prison works. You shouldn't have a favorite prisoner but this Crowder guy doesn't seem too bad. You've been through his file a little, it's a hefty record for a man who seems so nice and collected. You also stumbled across some pictures of an injury he got inside.

Graphic pictures of a mean looking burn on his upper arm, investigation showed second degree burns to apparently scorch a hateful Tattoo off of his skin. Ouch. Yet no agressor is listed, apparently, he wouldn't say who did it to him. It was his first week of kitchen duty too.

You see Crowder again in the kitchen, it's easy for New Guards to be posted at Lunch and dinner. Observe everything.

"You've got to try this! For prison chow it really is somethin' " Crowder points out, stirring a pot.

You hesitate at first but you are pretty sure he wouldn't try and poison you. Not like this anyways. "I don't know If..- I'm allowed to" You frown but with a smile. Though no other guards are around so maybe it's fine. The smile on his face when you step closer is almost sweet, he takes a spoon and puts some of the food onto it, holding it out to you. You don't even really think about it when you open your mouth and your lips move around the spoon that he's holding. Too distracted by the taste.

"Wow!" You huff suprised, chewing slowly. "That really is good" How on earth does prison food taste better than the food at your own table at home?

"You like it? It's a old Crowder family recipe. It's easy to make but got quite the kick to it!" He throws you another rather off putting smile, why is he so nice? You read his file you know he's not violent for no reason but it's still a bit unusual.

"Yeah I do like it! You gotta give me that recipe" You take a few steps back again, licking your lips softly. That was really tasty.

"Is that an order, Guard?" He asks, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel and turning to face you. The tension in the room is suddenly different, heated, you don't know what he's getting at but it's best to put a cork in it, now.

"No?" You question. "Now get back to work" .

"That was an order" You tease.

His chuckle rings in your ears for a moment, you really do have a strange relationship with him.

🕒

Its not unusual to play favorites in a place like this but you and Crowder became..close. It's been a month now for you in Kentucky's Tramble Penitentiary. Everytime you interact with Boyd you laugh, you smile, he smiles, it really feels like you starting to develop a crush. Which is bad. Biggest rule in the game. Don't fuck the inmates. Ever. Cooking duty for him means you can always watch him fix up something nice for the other inmates. He really always takes his time, he always makes it great.

Up until today.

"God! Fuckin' damn it!" You hear Boyd curse loudly and when you rush to the kitchen to take a look you can see blood. Your hand moves to your taser.

"Easy! Didn't stab nobody, just cut myself, the fucking cucumber slipped off the board." He holds his fingers and you can see blood slowly running down his hand and arm. Luckily you have some mild medical training.

You radio in the incident and your current Boss gives the clear, your allowed to take care of the injury and put someone else on cooking duty.

You swap out inmates and a coworker takes over the Observation while you take Crowder to the small medicial room at the end of the hallway. A own room for minor things so they don't all end up clogging up the only Hospital wing in the entire prison.

But you've never been in this area or this room before and suddenly it dawns on you, you are new and your alone here with a prisoner known for Manipulation tactics. The fear becomes reality when you finally take a closer look at his injury. No way in hell was that an accidental cut, the placement is way off.

"What's the plan Boyd? Jump me. Take my keycard, my taser, make your way out the back?" You huff.

You hope you are wrong but when he starts to chuckle you can feel your stomach turn.

"No darlin' not quite." He points out.

"God and here I was thinking you weren't like the other's" your hand reaches for your Radio again to call it in when he's suddenly a few steps too close.

"It ain't like that" Boyd takes another step closer.

"Come one now, you need me to spell it out for you?" His voice...his smile.. he's...- is he trying to seduce you?!

"What? Yes. I think you do" your hand leaves off the radio.

"We have been dancin' around reach other for a month now, as nice of a dance as it was, you wanna leap off that stage now don't you? See the Real Deal." He suggests.

You can't help but to burst into a soft laughter "You think I want to sleep with you???" You shake your head and turn away from him, grabbing some rubbing alcohol and a Band aid for his self inflicted dumb cut.

"I don't just think so, I know so" He points out. Stepping behind you while you gather the supplies.

"Your crazy. I really underestimated your Level of crazy. Now give me that hand and then I'll take you back to your cell" You chuckle again. Staring at him when you turn around and he holds up the cut in his hand. Your hands tremble while you pour the alcohol onto a cottonball. Taking his hand into yours, cleaning the cut and then the rest of the blood from his hand and arm. His fingers, his breathing.. He takes another step forward and you take one back. Feeling the wall against your back, shaky hands trying to hold still while you slap the band aid onto his wound. Once that's done his hand closes around yours.

"You mean it? I've been imagining things... you don't want me?" He tries to confirm that he actually might have been wrong about you.

But you can't help it, you let his hand take yours.

Your hesitation speaks volumes.

Your hand presses against his chest, but he leans in to kiss you anyways. His lips are so gentle, so careful, he's not aggressive or demanding. It's almost sweet if you don't think about the fact that this could get you fired and that having a crush or fling with him won't work. Because at the end of the day he's in here and you are out there.

You break the soft kiss with a sigh.

"No..- I don't want to sleep with you, now take a step back Crowder" You raise your shoulders, making yourself a bit taller.

He nods. And he does.

"Apparently im off my game, it's been a while" He frowns. "I deeply apologize." He keeps his head down for a moment.

He genuinely seems sad. As if he can't believe he made such a mistake.

"Your not off your game." You finally say. "Imma have to get a uh, a transfer I think, to another ward, having feelings for an inmate is unacceptable."

His head lifts up slowly.

"Here I was thinkin' all these little things were signs you wanted my flesh. But it aint just that huh?" The smile on his face makes you roll your eyes. "You like me" He grins. "Shut up" You groan.

"As in, a little crush! Or a big crush? Good Lord! Are you in love with me?!" Now he's just being mean.

"I said shut up!" You chuckle.

And then he hugs you.

You expected everything but that...

His arms around you feel so strangely comforting, you know this is wrong, you read his charges, you know very well why he's in here and yet here you are, in his damn arms. Your hands are hesitant, but slowly you stroke your palm over his back and your other holds onto his upper arm, where you feel the scar tissue underneath your finger tips.

"Why did you never tell who did this to you?" You ask, hand soothing over the uneven skin. It's a really bad burn scar, thick and leathery almost in it's texture.

He slowly lets go of your frame, placing his palm onto your face. "Cause I did that myself." He tugs a piece of your hair behind your ear before his lips place a kiss onto your head. "They woulda thrown me into isolation for it, marked me up as a danger to myself, couldn't risk that...-" He adds. Taking a step back then.

"Why did you do it? Apart from the obvious.." your skin feels on fire, you want more, your lips are dying for a kiss that takes your breath away and your hands are aching for a body to cling to.

"Form of self punishment, I guess." Incredible how sane and yet insane such a Statement sounds, you kind of understand. Pointing to his hand "And you did that to sleep with me?" You huff. It's a strange way to go about things, that's for sure.

"Well, had to get you alone somehow didn't I?" His face changes when he looks at you a little while longer, taking a deep breath. "But I gotta admit, this was quite the suprise, might be even been better than a simple, fleeting, lustful exchange. I deeply honor that you.. care about a man such as myself." He likes it, he wouldn't have it any other way actually.

"Doesn't matter much does it? Not like there is anything to be build here" The alarm starts blasting which means Lunch is over and it's back to the cells.

He missed Lunch for you.

You take a hold of his shoulder to walk him back to his cell, his cellmate not being there yet you step inside for a second.

"Don't request a transfer.." He whispers. "Seeing your face every day for the last month while cooking has been the happiest I have been in a while, don't take that from me, please." He seems really sincere.

You nod "Okay." Then you leave his cell.

Fuck, you can't believe you have a crush and that he kissed you, and that he hugged you, hell he even knicked himself with that knife to get to be alone with you and then also asked to not stop seeing you everyday.

Falling for an inmate was not on your list, especially not THE Boyd Crowder.

🕔

Fights happen very very often in tight spaces like these with a bunch of criminals. Unfortunately Crowder was in the room where it happend, which means by the damn book, strip search. Someone could be hiding a self made knive, razorblade glued to a toothbrush..hide drugs.. anything.

"Crowder. Room 3." The guard yells, FUCK. You were hoping he'd be called to a different room, you change your gloves from the last inmates search, leaning against the medical shelf when he steps inside. The instant smirk on his face makes you flush Red.

"Well ain't that somethin' , guess it's your lucky day" He closes the door and takes off his shoes. Not his first strip and not your first search but.. this is pretty damn intimate. Even if you try to not treat it that way, you like him, and he knows you like him, and now you get to do a body search on him? It might really be your lucky damn day.

"Hey now! Im a pro" You wiggle your gloved fingers.

"I bet you are darlin' " He steps closer, opening the buttons on his orange prison jumper. The reveal of his chest and his shoulders is already pretty nice to see but when he drops it lower and you get to see his abs and his hips and his V line it's starting to get steamy in the room. He Strips the jumper and stands in his white boxershorts.

"Don't you worry now, I think I'd be quite alright with a bit of touching" He clicks his tongue, taking off his boxers. And Jesus christ. Seems like Boyd Crowder isn't just all talk, he really got the package to back it up. Good for him!

"You are staring" He comments.

"No! What? Im not! Turn around" You huff, watching him turn around and place his hands against the wall. Fuck, this shouldn't be so damn hot.

"Bend uh, bend over...you know how this goes come on Boyd" You sigh.

His chuckle makes your head spin, you really didn't think this would happen today. But you got a job to do, it's not like you don't trust him but .. you have to do this right?

You take a deep breath before you step behind him, patting down his hair first, armpits, his hips, people get creative. Some even hide blades in their own damn skin. When your hands move to his pretty nice butt you hesitate.

"Oh come on now sweetheart. Ain't my first rodeo. Let's go" He huffs. You nod. Taking the lube from the medical cabinet, you hands spread his buttcheeks apart, when you don't see or feel anything it's time for the uncomfortable finger. You apply enough lube and with a soothing hand on his hip you gently push a finger inside of him.

You don't take him for the type to shove drugs up his damn ass but this is simply part of the job. Of course you don't feel anything so you move to take your finger away again but then he..moans.

A long deep right out of his lungs kind of moan.

You move your finger slowly again in the same motion and his body tightens. "You uh, you okay?" You ask.

He nods. Which is not a yes and not no to you.

"Bit sensitive are we Crowder?" You ask and you could swear to god that he pushes back against your hand. "I think I have to be really thorough here." You slowly push a second finger inside of him.

"Fuck...-" He moans deeply.

"I'm so sorry!" You panic a bit.

"No your fine..- just god please don't stop".

"Don't stop what? That?" You move your fingers the way you did before again and again..- getting a bit deeper each time. His head is resting on the arm that's holding him against the wall, you can tell he's breathing faster, his skin is flush. Someone likes a bit of a prostate massage.. Interesting.

Boyd's breathing sounds so insanely erotic, you never heard a man make these noises before.

His other hand spreads him open a bit, watching your fingers move in and out of him. You never thought you'd be into that but? The way he sounds so broken by how good it feels? The fact that it makes him feel so good makes you feel good in return. That's all that matters right?

You step closer to him, placing a gentle kiss onto his back while your free hand reaches around him. Stroking over his Rock hard cock.

"Good lord, Ain't that some kind of abuse of Power?" He comments but he likes it, he could easily make you stop if he wanted to. Looking at you with big desperate beautiful eyes.

"You wanna file a complaint?" You kiss his shoulder and his back again. His hips starting to meet your pace is incredible.

"Phew aren't you all wound up, how long has it been Boyd? Since you felt a womans touch? Soft lips against your skin, delicate hand around your cock?" You whisper and it feels as if he's crumbling at your words. All desperate and defeated. That certainly is a new look for Boyd Crowder.

"Too long way too long" He breathes out.

"Am I doing a good job?" You ask hopeful.

"The best..." his voice is dripping with something sweet, he sounds so thankful.

When you push your fingers into him harder you can feel his hips shiver. He likes it a little rough too apparently.

You keep the stronger pace of your fingers, hand stroking his cock in the same motion.

The orgasm you get to witness is stunning, breathtaking. He tries to swallow his moans but his body clenches around your fingers and his cock throbs in your hand while rows of cum spray the wall in front of him. It's easy to tell without a vocal Orchestra that he really enjoyed himself. Carefully letting go of him and taking your gloves off.

"God damn Baby." He chuckles when he turns around.

He picks up his clothes and gets dressed again fairly quickly, closing the buttons on his prison jumper. He even has the damn courtesy of taking some paper towels and cleaning up the mess he made, tossing them and washing his hands before he looks at you.

"You really have me question what we are here..." He tilts his head and you can still see the remains of a blush on his skin.

"I've never done this before, all these other guys they are so...uptight, uncomfortable, and then you come along moaning around" You huff.

"Which I never done before either!! No other guard has ever gotten me like this, I think it's more of the person, the person being a woman I rather fancy" He smirks a bit. "I bet any touch of yours would make me sing such tunes darlin' " God the charisma of this man is teeth rotting sweet.

"Your ridiculous" You comment, but you should move on now, you don't want people to question why this is taking so long.

"Ridiculousy smitten, correct." He nods.

"Go now, smitten or not this is still a crime" You nod towards the door but instead of him going both of his hands take your face. Kissing you slow and sweet before he has to let go. "Might get myself into some more trouble if that means I get to be seein' you" he winks before he opens the door.

He's such an idiot but...god you too are pretty damn smitten.

💞🕒💞🕒💞🕒💞

To be continued...

Hey thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. And I hope you are excited for more !

Tags:

@justme12200 @cat-shepard @megangovier

@ivyinthesun @catclaw12

If I wrongly tagged someone or forgot someone im super sorry !!! I gotta start making a damn list hahaha.

[desb3ar]

You’re Not Helping

Summary: Being funny at the wrong time.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara and Co. x Spidervariant!Reader

A/N: PLATONIC READER!! You’re pretty much the life of the party <3. This is gonna be stupidly goofy because im in that mood LMFAO. This is veeeeeery low effort because it was a simple idea

——————

There had always been a dangerous flaw that seems to be unchecked. A problematic talent that will always leave your fellow colleagues in harms way with the commotion you’d cause with the insufferable antics you presented on the table. The thing that always happens during any mission, especially when things are quiet and dull. It was your way of keeping the energy and spirits high. What am I trying to say?

You are funny as FUCK.

You always had your way of making quips, like any other spider-being could, but something about your comedy always left people with hurting abs from the constant barrage of funny jokes you’d gunned them down with. It was a relentless attack, friendly fire if you will, because it always ended up with someone laughing too loud and compromising their position. As self-sabotaging as that may be, you wouldn’t do what you did if you couldn’t handle what came next.

Often times, you’ve received heavy critiques from the society’s leader, Miguel O’Hara, for putting people in danger because of your lack of professionalism. Jessica Drew would back him up, sometimes. However, she had never been happier when you joined, your jokes being a highlight of her day. You remembered when Jess and you were supposed to be doing a stakeout, scoping out for an anomaly. You had the villain’s file on hand and started to make the most ab shredding roasts that had Jess shed a tear.

“Lookin’ like a whole bottle of what the fuck.” You’d say.

Jess cuts you a lot of slack because of your high skill in the spider-arts. She takes great pleasure in being paired with you on missions because she always knew it was gonna be a successful and absolutely hilarious one.

You loved working with Jess too, because you yourself are a fan of her sense of humor. You hoped you’d be able to work with her more and more because of the amazing chemistry you two had.

Another person you love to hang out with was Peter B. You and him had busted each other’s guts before when you ate lunch together. Spoke about silly stories that had your food run cold from how engaged you two were. Which was absolutely crazy since Peter chows down given the chance.

Today is different. You were on a mission with Miguel. Before you both went to the dimension where the anomaly was located, he made it abundantly clear he didn’t want the jokes and quips today.

“This is a serious matter and I don’t want you to twist it around to be some joke.” He lectured.

You gave him a thumbs up and complied. However, like the snake you are, fingers had been crossed.

The two of you were in the middle of searching for the anomaly, staking out to be sure that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Miguel had told Lyla to scan the area, in which she did. She wouldn’t come back till it was done, which was odd for her. It never takes her long to do scans with how technically advanced she is.

So now, you and Miguel are practically playing hide and seek to dig up anything about where the anomaly could be. This dimension was a strange one, it was filled with tunnels… Very echoey… Not good. You two were spilt up to cover more ground, but no luck.

“Damn.” You whined, arms crossed as you kicked a rock. “Where the fffu-. Bro oughta be a D1 camouflager. Where’s Lyla?”

“Dunno’. It doesn’t take Lyla this long to make a scan.” He grumbled with slight annoyance. “Gotta run another test…”

The two of you continued to look endlessly for the villain, but as expected, yet again, no luck. This was frustrating Miguel, everything he planned didn’t fall into line like it was supposed to and he hated that.

It was then that the two of you decided to regroup. Reunited, you took five and leaned against the wall.

“I’m getting the suspicion that the signal is messing with Lyla’s functions… How though…” Miguel muttered to himself trying to figure the dilemma out.

Then, in the silence, you blew a raspberry. The noise bounced off the walls.

This earned you a peeved look from Miguel.

“What?” You asked innocently, holding back a grin.

Miguel somehow managed to roll his eyes despite his mask being up, and turned away from you.

Your comedic side began to surface… This mission is just too stale.

“… Hey.” You spoke up, grabbing his attention with him slightly turning his head to you. “… Knock, knock.”

“Don’t.”

“C’mon… Knock knock…” You pressed. Miguel sighed.

“…. Who’s there.”

“To.”

“… To who.“

“No,” You snickered, “to whom.”

Miguel had the most disappointed head shake known to man when you were trying not to laugh. You gain composure, only by the slightest.

“Okay that was wack- Uh- Oo Oo- What do you-”

“No no- No more.” He said in a hushed yet loud tone.

“What do you call a spider with 10 eyes?” You asked blatantly.

“What-” He said annoyed.

“A spi-i-i-i-i-i-der.”

Okay, that was good.

Miguel sighed heavily… He sounds like he’s smiling, but you didn’t wanna believe it. “Alright alright.”

“One more one more.” You said quickly as you thought up another one. “What… Do you call two Mexicans that play basketball?”

Oh BROTHER.

“… WhAt…” Miguel had to look away.

“Juan on Juan.”

Miguel had to take a deeeeep breath with that one.

“… Okay.” There was a hint of laughter. “You done?”

“How does the moon cut his hair? Eclipse it!” You couldn’t help but laugh. Miguel snickered slightly…

“I… Stop stop we-“ He takes another deep breath, not wanting to laugh. “We need to focus and figure out-“

“Aye aye- I asked how much a roof cost… He said it was on the house-”

“(Y/N). Shut UP.” Miguel was trying to be serious but you were weakening his ability to keep composure, so he demanded with a slight laugh. “We can’t- We gotta mission and you’re-”

“Why was Mrs. Clause unsatisfied with Santa Clause? Because he only comes once a year.”

Miguel nearly lost it, he quietly shouted. “YOU’RE NOT HELPING.”

“ONE MORE… PROMISE….”

“Fine go go go.”

“How do you get a Mexican uncle’s attention?”

Miguel has a feeling he knows where this is going… “How?”

“Tapatio on the shoulder.”

Got him.

He nearly yelled before he covered his mouth. He gave you a playful punch on the arm and it caused the both of you to laugh together.

Hearing him laugh was something you’ve never thought you needed. He had the most goofy laugh you heard, he even snorted, which caused an echo in the tunnels.

“I can’t take you no where.” Miguel said as he was trying to calm down.

It was then Lyla FINALLY comes back with a scan. However, she was holding her oversized phone. She had recorded the whole exchange. You and Miguel looked at her with shocked faces.

“Saving that for memories.” Lyla said as she did just that.

“Lyla? Where have you been? What took you so long?” Miguel said with a clear smile on his face because he hasn’t winded down yet.

“It didn’t take me long to do the scan, I was just wanting to see if they could get you to crack.”

“… LYLA-“

“You got a cute snort too, like a lil piglet-“

“LY-“

“Also the guy is headed this way.” Lyla explained, pointing down the tunnel, causing the both of you to get yourselves together so you can take the anomaly down.

———————

an extension of the goofy head cannons? yes.

[billdenbrough]

@naturecalls111 prompted me kevaaron + massage when i needed a warmup prompt bc she is the best. waves hands this is a vague au and heads up for some suggestive content ahead but it's just prelude vibes lmao

The thing is. The thing is that Aaron’s hands, while smaller than Kevin’s, are firm. It was a fuck of a thing, coming onto this team after two years of Volshan’s huge, bone-cracking hands, and being told this small blond with sharp eyes and a clever, pretty mouth would be the one helping Kevin with keeping his body well-tuned.

He certainly feels like an instrument right now, strung too tight. Everything is taut. He’s only halfway sure it’s his muscles. The rest of it might just be him, here, right now, in this moment. 

“God, what have you been doing to yourself?” Aaron mutters. He digs his thumb in deep, and Kevin can’t help the low, guttural groan that rings through the air. Aaron pauses. Kevin buries his face in the bed.

“Well, clearly that needed some working out,” Aaron says. He resumes his motions, pausing only to re-lotion his hands, and it’s just - Kevin is just -

Kevin is a fucking professional, okay? You don’t get onto as many teams as he has—let alone at the international level—without going through the team PT’s hands a time or twenty. But it’s just.

Aaron’s kinda funny, see. He's got this dry, quiet humour, usually pretty cutting, and these blunt remarks that make Kevin snort even when the recipient of such a remark sends him an injured look. The breakdown in relations with his teammates is worth it when Aaron sends him that little smile. And Aaron is smart. Obviously, medical professional, but he likes trivia and has opinions on the best way to hide a body (“My something-in-law,” he says once, in the world’s vaguest lore drop. “He’s got a variety of skills.” Which, like, ominous? If Jean were here, he’d be telling Kevin that the fact that Aaron clearly being related to some sort of serial killer isn’t flagging his boner at all means Kevin truly has taken too many Exy balls to the head. It might be true. Doesn’t change the fact that his boner remains undaunted and his neck prickles whenever he hears Aaron enter a room, so aware of him) and confiscates Kevin’s Exy racquet when he catches him at the court too late, but doesn’t make him go home. 

Which is how they end up here, actually.

Aaron says, you’re going to injure yourself, don’t be a fucking idiot. Kevin says, I need to get better. Aaron says, you’re already the best person on that court, you perfectionistic fuck. Kevin grins at him, quick and fierce, then remembers himself, and says, I can always get better. Aaron arches an eyebrow and says, not if you blow out your knee trying to conquer the world. Kevin wants to argue, but Aaron reaches over and tugs his Exy racquet free, placing one hand on Kevin’s bicep as he does so. Kevin is so struck by it that he lets him. 

Aaron says, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to go back home. Kevin doesn’t ask how he guessed or what he’s implying. Kevin asks, what are you doing here? And Aaron says, checking the office. Thought I could get some paperwork done.

And Kevin asks, do you want company? And Aaron looks at him, expression a little unreadable, then says, yeah, okay. Come on, Kevin Day.

And he goes. And Kevin follows. 

And now here’s Kevin, getting an impromptu massage because Aaron narrowed his eyes at the way he was moving his left leg. And now Aaron’s fingers are moving up the back of his thigh, digging in, and all Kevin can think about is how badly he wants those fingers to be digging in because he’s holding on. Because he’s pulling Kevin down on him, clutching at him because he doesn’t want to let go. Or because he’s clinging to Kevin’s shoulders for dear life while Kevin proves to him that all his chat about the stamina of champions isn’t just chat. Kevin’s not picky. He’s just losing his mind a little, maybe, with how it all feels right now.

“Did you want me to do the front?” Aaron asks. “I can check your knee.”

Kevin shakes his head quickly. “It’s fine,” he says, but Aaron is frowning at him. He moves around the bed to face Kevin, and Kevin can’t escape his gaze, lying down as he is.

“Are you sure?” he asks. He presses the back of his hand against Kevin’s forehead—if he thinks Kevin has a fever and benches him, Kevin is going to be absolutely insufferable, especially because he’s fine, he’s just horny. Then he does something so completely unforgivable, and flips his hand absentmindedly, cupping Kevin's jaw. 

Kevin lets out a low whine.

Aaron steps back, and Kevin goes, “Shit, sorry, it’s—Keegan bruised me there earlier.”

The look Aaron gives him is unconvinced, but he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I'll just do a warm down then, if you’re sure.”

Kevin swallows, nods.

But then Aaron's hands are back on him. Gentler this time, for the most part, but digging into softer flesh, more tender spaces, and then—

Kevin makes a kind of gasping noise as Aaron’s hand slips a little, a little too slick from the lotion. Aaron’s apology is swallowed up by the gasp, but then cut off completely as his hand brushes against Kevin’s hard dick.

“Oh,” Aaron says, and then, “Is this why you were being so—Kevin, it’s fine. This is really normal. I promise I've seen it before.”

Appallingly, Kevin’s first instinct is to indignantly ask “Who?!”; however, cooler heads prevail and he says, “Uh huh.”

“No, I promise,” Aaron says. His voice is a little strange, but there’s sincerity in it, Kevin can tell that much. “I know it’s just a reaction, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s natural.”

Kevin blames Jeremy, who is the least honest but most sincere person he knows, for what comes out of his mouth next. Jeremy, who never tells anyone shit but is always so encouraging for people to be open with their feelings. It’s his fault, Kevin decides, because Kevin’s stupid fucking mouth decides to say, “I wouldn’t say anything.”

Aaron goes really still for a moment. Kevin is still not looking at him, so he only knows this from the sudden lack of breathing. Then, finally, “What?”

Kevin huffs, then turns over. No point hiding it now that they both know he’s hard as a rock.

It's embarrassing, but he’s said it now. He can’t unfuck that. So he stands his ground instead. “I wouldn't say it’s entirely meaningless.”

Aaron’s looking at him. Mostly his face, but he glances down at his dick, and Kevin feels it stir with interest beneath the attention. He's about to feel embarrassed, but then Aaron tilts his head, and his eyes darken just a shade, and Kevin thinks—oh. Kevin thinks, maybe this isn’t such a lost cause after all.

[piratefishmama]

Beware the Thorns

(a NSFW multi-part ficlet)

In many in journalistic circles, Eddie Munson, was Steve Harrington’s partner. The eye candy on his arm, cool, indifferent to everyone, he didn’t stray to the cameras for his five minutes of fame, he breezed by them as if he were just… better than them.

He was beautiful, skin like pale porcelain, dark curls full of lustre, and volume, dark doe eyes mysterious and inviting, broad shoulders, slender waist. His body only ever donned in the most expensive of dark fabrics, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dolce, nothing touched his skin but perfection.

To those who knew him better, he was Eddie Munson, professional escort, his services were expensive, he catered only to the rich, but he was good at his job.

Services included attending events, non-sexual but intimate bathing, the ‘boyfriend’ package, something Steve had been paying for, for ooooooh two years now? Long distance work, sex… sex was usually a given according to MOST people, and they did like to try and argue for it being included in the price of something basic, but Eddie charged more for it, and was often coy and promising enough to make them wait for him if he wanted to hold off.

And boy did he have them on a hook when he held off, the hunger to sink into his pert little ass keeping them paying, and paying, and paying for his time, for his presence on their arm. He was worth the wait, but he didn’t want to give in too fast, less they cut ties after getting what they wanted, they were his business, he had to keep them wanting.

He was a long game escort, he wasnt a wham bam ka-ching thank u ma’am/man kind of deal, wasnt a one and done sex worker. He put more time into it. He put serious effort into it. He was good at it.

He even had his own website.

Granted the website was listed as something else entirely so you had to know what you were looking for because wow, some of it was illegal, but word of mouth got him around more than enough to keep the lights on in his Indianapolis penthouse apartment, it was cosy, had everything he needed.

It helped that his clients were LOADED. One had to know where to go to get those big bucks, had to know which big fish to dangle the worm in front of.

He’d dangled that worm in front of Steve Harrington while on the arm of someone else, there were… rumours, of his sexuality floating about, stories from his high school years, that one gay bar he’d been spotted in with his friends, the way he’d touch pretty men, and look a little longer than necessary at things a straight boy shouldn’t be looking at while high as a kite.

He just hadn’t come out yet, at least, he hadn't until Eddie had been seen on his arm at a charity gala, having appeared to jump ship from the arm of the Hagan boy somewhere behind the scenes.

Nobody could get a word from the sole heir of the Hagan Hotel fortune as to what happened either, lips were zipped shut on the matter, he hadn't even tried to smear Eddie's name which some journalists found. Strange. Given Hagan's verbal evisceration of his previous exes.

Tommy wasn’t… bad, per-say.

He could be sweet when he wanted to be, but he rarely wanted to be. He was also overconfident, he lacked the ability to hold insults to himself, and had on more than one occasion called Eddie a useless whore in a fit of anger over some such nonsense.

So. Eddie cut those ties at the first big fish opportunity.

He was one of Eddie’s… longer lasting clients though, the half a year he spent seeing him regularly was… sometimes okay, the sex was fun, access to the good drugs was awesome since Hagan didn’t shy away from them, and he got paid nicely for his time, but he was glad he didn’t have to spend all his time with the man as an actual partner would have.

Probably would have strangled him by now.

Steve Harrington wasn’t like him though… Steve was his favourite client.

~~

Eddie Munson had waltzed into Steve Harringtons life with all the ease and grace of a man who’d lived in wealth his entire life.

Like a rose he was beautiful, but hidden beneath the pretty petals there were thorns to consider.

He wasn’t truly his, and therein lay the thorns. He was paying for the privilege of his company, paying for him on his arm, paying for him to breeze by flashing cameras in fancy suits, paying for him to act the part of a loving, attentive boyfriend for the paparazzi trying to catch a glimpse of his love life.

It was easier to pay a professional, than allow a civilian into his life.

It was easier to bring Eddie home with him, watch him waltz around his living room in his tailored semi-sheer silk button-down shirt, tucked neatly into his black Gucci tux trousers, his blazer left draped over one of the chairs, it was easy watching him sway, the twinkle of his draping silver chain ear cuff catching the light from the lit lamps amidst beautiful dark curls, his slender hips swaying to the quiet music Steve had put on that evening after a long night of schmoozing with the press, with his peers.

People who probably knew who Eddie truly was, but… were tight-lipped enough not to spill the beans, because blowing that whistle would of course shine a spotlight on how they’d know.

It was safer for them to just smile and nod.

It was easy, joining him, slipping behind him, and pulling him close, ass to groin, trailing kiss after kiss down his warm, smooth neck, hands on his hips easing him back, into him, close to him in a slow, rhythmic grind of intent.

Easy to convey what he wanted to a professional, knowing he’d get it.

It was easy to lose himself in the idea that this man was his to take to bed, and because he wasn’t truly his, but an employee…

It was easy to let him go in the morning, his wallet some three grand lighter, depending on what they did the night before… it was easy… until it wasn’t easy anymore.

Until the brief press of lips to his forehead as he feigned sleep in the morning, and the soft rustle of his wallet being rifled through for the exact amount owed and nothing more, because he’d long since told Eddie where he kept it, and gave him permission to just take what was owed and go if he had to go.

Until all the things he’d found so easy about Eddie’s presence in his life… stopped being easy for his heart to ignore.

The soft press of lips to his brow in silent goodbye left him wanting nothing more than to pull his beautiful porcelain rose, thorns and all, back into bed and demand he stay just a few more hours, the feel of his body pressed close in the night, curled under the Egyptian cotton sheets with him, had him lying awake at night longing for the sun to take just a little longer to rise.

Eddie Munson wasn’t his. Not really.

And maybe, maybe he figured, as he slipped on a pair of dark leather gloves for his early Monday meeting, the touch of his hired lover still lingering on his skin, the bruising hickey the brunette had left during the night, before disappearing before dawn as he KNEW Steve had an early meeting, knuckles cracking as he flexed them within the reinforced gloves.

Maybe, he figured as the iron knuckles embedded in his gloves met the soft, weak, easily breakable jaw of the latest person to cross him and his business partners, the sickening crunch of bone breaking beneath skin...

Maybe Eddie not really being his was a good thing.

That didn’t stop him, or his heart, from wanting.

It being a good thing didn’t stop his hands from dialling those digits he’d long since memorised, he didn’t even need them saved in his contacts, he had them, the only number he’d ever memorized, he had it there by pure muscle memory. A number carved into his very soul.

Sometimes even if he wasn’t trying to call the brunette, his fingers would dial as if his heart had simply taken over his mind when it came to him. This time however, he purposefully dialled.

After cleaning his hands of the sickly, dark red that’d stained them, gotten under the fabric of his gloves and ruined them, he dialled, knowing that when his addiction answered, and he always answered… everything would feel okay again.

The racing of his heart would slow, calm would wash over him like waves slowing their turbulent rolls after a storm had passed.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite person in the whole wide world~” his voice thick and throaty, he always sounded so fucked out when he answered the phone, like the strongest whiskey mixed with the finest of honey. Steve knew this wasn’t a greeting purely for him, Eddie didn’t save numbers, he didn’t to keep his clients safe in case the police got hold of his phone, and he sure as fuck didn’t speak like that in private, he’d heard Eddie in private…

Heard him when the brunette didn’t think he could hear, when he thought Steve to still be in the shower, he was on the phone to someone, probably a friend, who Steve didn’t know but definitely not a client, Eddie always sounded different when speaking to a client… somewhere deep down… Steve almost wished he had that relationship with him instead. Almost.

He did wished he could see the real him, hear the real him instead of this imposter, instead of the façade he put on, it worked for him, fuck did it work, he could fuck his own fist for hours just listening to that voice, but… he wanted more, he’d wanted more for some time.

But he’d take what he could get. If all Eddie would give him were an imposter, then… an imposter he’d take. It wasn’t as though Steve were being truly honest about himself either.

Thorns. So many little thorns.

“Flatterer” he hummed, earning a deep laugh from the speaker that had his heart thump against his ribcage, fuck, he didn’t deserve that laugh, didn’t deserve the warmth it filled him with, a man lay broken not far from his feet, blood pooled around his head, barely alive, he didn’t deserve the warmth Eddie gave him.

But he’d greedily soak what was offered up.

Eddie didn’t seem surprised it was him either, which was nice, it made his greeting seem all the more real, he just… adapted, quick as lightning “as if you don’t deserve it, are you gonna be home tonight, baby?” Deep down he knew this wasn’t Eddie… deep down there was a fiery, excitable, loud, nerdy man hidden beneath the surface probably cringing at the tone of voice being used, but it was what he was allowed to hear, it was all Eddie was willing to share with him, and that was okay.

In every part of his life, he was in control, he could have what he wanted, get what he demanded… but with Eddie… he got what he was given, and he was happy for it.

“I should be home by eight…”

“Ugh good… I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” Whether it was the truth or not Steve never knew, he liked to believe it was, he liked to think his addiction missed him as much as he missed his addiction while he was away “what do you want for dinner?” He smiled against the phone, silent for a moment as he basked in the domesticity of it all, how easily Eddie made him just… BELIEVE that he was a sweet housewife, ready to tend to his every need “… baby?”

“Just thinking… you know I love everything you cook, so many options…” Eddie was incredible at everything, he used a knife better than some of his most skilled bodyguards, men who’d trained with a bladed weapon for most of their lives, he had two ex-black ops on his staff and neither of them could handle a knife quite like him, of course comparing them wasn’t exactly fair, one used it to fillet fish and cut vegetables, the others… cut into other things.

He liked Eddie’s use of them far more than the other.

“Want me to surprise you?” He liked giving Eddie creative freedom, liked it far more than when he told him what to do, telling him… didn’t always get the best results, Eddie liked his freedom to create far too much, surprises tended to feel more… personal, tailored to what he thought Steve might like.

“Please, I could never choose, it’s all so good” another laugh, softer, it sounded so real… so honest, a spell he dare not break by saying the wrong thing, tearing into the space they created together, the fantasy life together by insinuating that this wasn’t the norm… that he couldn’t always have Eddie making his dinner like he longed for.

“Have a safe flight, okay? I’ll see you when you get home…” he was doing something, couldn’t stay on the call, was he with someone else? No… he’d never answer if he was with someone else, the thought made him grip the phone tighter though, jealousy coursing through him at the mere idea that someone else could be occupying his time… stealing his attention away. “Love you, baby” it wasn’t real, just a fantasy.

It still made all his fears, all his worries vanish, pop like bubbles, washed away by the torrent of warmth that flooded him with those simple words.

“Love you too” he only wished Eddie’s words were as real as his own.

Part 2

[azul-marie]

leon. (desiderate)

fem. reader. canon-typical violence/injuries mentioned.

if only you’d been beside him a second sooner.

the surrounding ganados were resolute in killing the two of you, but so far you’d handled everything well. he took the front, you, the back. it was going fine enough, up until a creature welding a machete managed to land a clean slice across the side of his abdomen, easily cutting through the flesh. your partner’s pained sounds were a nightmare on the ears.

once that damned church bell finally rang upon safety could you take cover in an abandoned home to check whatever damage was done.

now another challenge began.

“please, just let me see how bad it is.” your pleas are no match for stubbornness. leon waves you off, pretending that he isn’t holding a bleeding wound. his beautiful jacket, a favorite of his, he had told you on the way to the village, stains his hand a bright scarlet. he lingers by a window to keep watch outside, his handsome face scrunched with discomfort.

“it’s fine. i’m fine. focus on yourself first.” his reply is curt, slightly winded. his broad chest heaves as he applies more pressure on his injury, his jaw setting tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. you watch helplessly, unused to the view of your calm, confident partner so hurt.

the two of you hadn’t been partners for long, but something akin to a friendship was undoubtedly there. his odd quips, the occasional joke that would usually cause eye rolling and groans were actually rather charming coming from a man of his reputation — you took them in stride, bouncing off of his personality as if you’d known each other all your lives.

but there is a certain coldness to leon. an inner frost, like a perpetual twist of the brows stuck in thought, or eyes heavy with a lack of heart. clear reminders of whatever he’s gone through before meeting you. perhaps it’s the innate good you sense from him that encourages the desire to know him, befriend him. a goodness that is such he’d prefer bleeding out if it meant saving you first.

you gather your courage. with cautious steps you approach his side, place a benign hand on his bicep that silently insists. at first, leon refuses to look your way. he's all too aware of those doe eyes you’re making at him — knows it’ll get him weak in the knees. the touch on his arm is already making it harder to breathe.

“leon…” —god, do you have to say his name so softly like that?— “i’m not hurt. i’m worried about you. just let me take a look so i can help ease the pain. please.”

his eyes flicker down to yours before he can stop himself. fuck. those pretty eyes, brows turned up with concern, flutter when they meet his. leon’s jaw goes slack, and he swallows so hard he’s certain he gulps aloud.

“okay…okay. i surrender.” he says, a hint of humor lacing in. “sorry to have made you beg.”

your unease melts into a beaming smile. “as long as it paid off.”

after finding the most stable looking chair in the house, leon peels off his beloved jacket on the one side he’s hurt, exposing the weeping cut caked with a mix of dried and fresh blood. he at least looks a little sheepish to have insisted he was fine, when he was, in fact, not very fine at all.

you cringe at the sight, deterring any ogling leon would've preferred to see instead. you carefully lift his skin-tight shirt to examine the cut further. the feel of your smooth fingers gliding across his bare skin sends a wave of gooseflesh over every inch of him. he reminds himself he’s a professional, not a schoolboy.

“i’m…i’m sorry, but, ew. aside from that, it’s actually not too deep. a good cleaning should help, since that blade was probably really unsanitary. then i’ll bandage you up. sounds good?”

leon is quiet. concerned, you glance upwards to check on him, only to find he’s already staring at you. something hot clenches at your chest. his eyes fall to your parted lips for a split second before realizing you’ve stopped talking.

“yeah.” he mindlessly agrees. it is incredibly obvious to the both of you that he hasn’t heard a word you said. you kindly choose to ignore it, mostly because it’s cute. and because he’s probably lost a bit of blood while he was being stubborn. not to mention he was nearly sawed in half by a literal creature of darkness, too. something like that would take a moment to process.

“i’ll clean you up, then bandage the cut. sounds good?” you repeat slowly, trying to also kindly ignore how his eyes switch between your eyes and lips. leon nods, then looks away in silent complacency to let you do what you need to. and to steady himself when your hands run down the expanse of his abdomen to check for any other injuries he may have sustained.

he wonders how you’ve managed to keep such soft, supple hands. how they press just the right amount of pressure, not too much or too little. the first aid spray, nor the herbs you mix and crush into a salve hardly sting when you massage them across his wound. all the while your eyes, those pretty eyes, gleam with pure concentration as you work to heal him. help him. without ulterior motives, without asking for anything in return.

guilt overtakes him. to have you mend him despite his being perfectly capable feels selfish. reminds him of naivety and red. longings of the past. you two were already in over your heads, and now this? having you coddle him? leon’s hardly deserving. hardly worth your effort. he wasn’t the priority at this point, even if he made the promise to get all three of you back home safe. there were risks, dangers, that either of you could succumb to, but he’d be damned before letting anything happen to you. as long as you stuck together, nothing would.

“you with me, ace?”

your whisper jolts him out of thought. leon appears struck, as if forgetting you’re sat beside him, pressing bandages along his abdomen. your perplexed expression wakes him from his inner rumination. makes him think his own face is twisted in the way it gets whenever he’s too far deep in his mind.

leon takes a beat to answer. “uh…yeah. all good. sorry about that.”

“no need to apologize. i know it’s a lot to take in. i’m just worried about that handsome face of yours.”

he freezes, his dark thoughts at once evaporating. “my—what?”

you turn slightly bashful. “oh, well, you know. if you keep making the same kind of face, it’ll get stuck that way. i just…well, it would be a shame if yours did. you’re really quite nice on the eyes, leon.”

he gapes at you, stunned silent by your boldness. and what more it could imply. these sorts of compliments are nothing he’s not used to, clearly, but coming from you? the first person to mean something to him in years?

leon feels his face going hot. shit. he clears his throat, shifts in his creaking seat. prays he isn’t blushing as badly as he thinks he is. you manage to catch his fleeting eyes for a second. he watches how your lush lips turn up with an amused smile so poorly hidden he almost thinks you wanted him to notice — and just like that, he’s properly flustered.

he isn’t allowed to collect himself. soon you’re patting off whatever excess salve remains on his skin and tugging his shirt back down over freshly set bandages, held together by even more prayers and a bit of medical tape. you’re up and on your feet before leon can even pierce together the concept of thanking you.

you head to the nearest window for a quick peek outside. “looks like the villagers are still in the church. it’s all clear for now, unless they decide to cut service short.” you muse. leon joins you, carefully readjusting his jacket and his cool.

“don’t jinx us.” he huffs. “last thing we need is another run in with trouble. we should start looking for ashley now that things are quiet.”

you agree. after one last weapons and supplies check, you lead the way towards the front door to brave whatever awaits the two of you ahead. before you finish twisting the doorknob, he pats an awkward hand on your shoulder.

leon says your name intently. “…i appreciate your help. very much.” he hesitates, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. you can still see a bloom of pink across his cheeks. “so…thanks. i owe you one.”

you pat his shoulder in return with a mellow smile. “of course, leon. it’s why i’m here. i am your favorite partner after all.” you joke, turning the moment he lets out a chuckle. you miss the way his eyes soften as he takes in the pretty view of you.

“true. but it’s not like you had much competition in the first place.”

“ha-ha. if you’re saying i win by default, then that’s just fine by—”

the moment the two of you step outside, an incoming call from hunnigan interrupts the lighthearted atmosphere. the sudden intrusion turns leon’s face somber once more, though he glances somewhat apologetically at you before answering.

no matter, you think. there’s plenty of time to spare for team-bonding.

[lomlhwa]

pose for me (j.wy)

pairing: boudoir photographer!wooyoung x model!reader

preview: you take a job as a model for a world renowned photographer. obviously, your boudoir photo shoot wasn't supposed to escalate to a sex tape.

tags/warnings: fem reader, boudoir photography, sex tape filming, big dick!wooyoung, pet names (good girl, baby, pretty girl), breast play, oral (m. receiving), cum eating, marking, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: all filming and photography is CONSENTED explicity, multiple times.

wc: 1.6k

song recs for this fic: desire by ateez, tail by sunmi, no manners by superm, cyber sex by doja cat

a/n: the header is actually what inspired the whole plot of this fic. don't ask why i chose woo for this one either. bro just gave the right vibes ig. enjoy photographer wooyoung

this is it. unit 6 of the apartment building the photographer’s manager had directed you to.

this is actually pretty surreal to you. you’re meeting up with world renowned photographer, jung wooyoung. he’s known for photographing celebrities but he hasn’t done that in quite some time.

he’s shifted his expertise to boudoir photography for up and coming models. you just so happen to be one of those models. 

but, you’re not really here to make a name for yourself in the modeling industry. you’re really here to just meet wooyoung. you’ve heard… things from other models in your company. things about how their sessions escalated to technically unprofessional events.

now, of course you’re not here to try and lose your career. but you want some proof towards the rumors of wooyoung’s skills. 

and size. 

you knock on the door. four times. you hear some shuffling behind the door before a beautiful man opens the door. the wind is almost knocked out of you when he opens the door.

“y/n?” you nod, holding out your hand for a handshake. “you must be mr. jung” you smile. “please, call me wooyoung. this is only a mildly professional environment” he steps out of the way, ushering you into his apartment. 

you move to take your red heels off but wooyoung placed his hand on your shoulder. “i think those heels will suit a set of lingerie i have” he says, his voice sounding silky smoothing. he sounds like honey in your head. you nod, leaving your heels on. 

you shimmy your coat off and put it on a hanger. he hands you a lacy, shimmery set of red lingerie. he was right, your heels do suit this set. “you can go put it on in the room down the hall. that’s my make-shift dressing room for models.”

you walk down the hall and walk into the room. you close the door behind you and make sure to lock it. yes, you’re partially here to get laid but you’d like to be consensually naked in front of him rather than because you’re being watched.

you finish putting on the lingerie and examine yourself in the mirror. you look good. you look… fuckable. you put on some light red makeup and some red glittery gloss. you pout your lips in the mirror. kissable. 

you put on the fluffy white bathrobe left in the room for you to wear until the shoot officially starts. you walk back out to the main room to see wooyoung setting up a pink backdrop and adjusting the props. the props include; broken up angel wings to make you look like a fallen angel, a halo painted black, and a mattress that’s been cut into and parts have been splashed with black and red paint. clearly, he planned a whole concept for you. you appreciate this aspect of his work. 

“oh, you’re ready?” wooyoung says, finally noticing your presence in the room.  you nod, sudden nerves hitting you. “the set fits perfectly” you smile. “i followed the exact measurements you sent me. i would hope it fit” he laughs lightheartedly. 

you walk further into the room, walking over to the section of the room with the backdrop. you examine the props that he prepared for you. they’re quite interesting to look at. they really suit everything you’re already wearing. 

“are you ready to get on with the shoot, y/n?” his voice breaks the silence so suddenly that you jump a little. “yes, i’m ready” you remove your robe and stand in front of the ripped up mattress.

“how do you want me first?” you break his longing gaze on your body. “on your stomach, head in your hands, legs up behind you” he explains. getting into seductive positioning immediately was expected. 

you get into the requested position and try to get comfortable. he places the painted halo on your head, adjusting it to be slightly crooked. he hesitated for a moment before running his thumb over your bottom lip. he smudges your red gloss over your chin, making it look like you’d been kissed a whole bunch. 

“that’s better” he says, his voice low and almost seductive. you smile at him. you hope you look good. good enough to fuck. 

he walks away from you, getting behind his camera. he adjusts it a few times before seeming satisfied with its position. he clicks a few photos before groaning. are you doing something wrong? 

“you don’t look, fallen angel-ish enough” he says, sliding his fingers through his hair. he sighs, contemplating what to do to fix what he finds to be lacking. he stands there, looking at you and thinking. you almost wish you could read his mind. what is he thinking right now? “get up” he says. you roll off the mattress and get up onto your feet. “is something wrong? what’s-” he cuts you off with his lips on yours. his tongue darts out, almost like he’s trying to get a taste of your cherry red gloss. if he could, he would probably be eating your lips. 

“i know what’s missing” you whisper into his lips. you slide your hands down his body, ending up on your knees. you fumble with his belt buckle for a moment before getting undone. you slide it out of the loops in his pants and place it on the floor. you undo the button on his dress pants and slide them along with his underwear down to mid-thigh. his cock is… big, to say the least. the rumors about this part are true. 

he rushes to grab his camera. he turns it on the recording setting. “mind if i film our little encounter?” he asks. you shake your head. “i don’t mind at all” you smile sheepishly at him. 

you take him into your hand, stroking him softly. you look up at him with big doe eyes. your messy lips and big eyes almost made him cum on the spot. he bites his lip as your hand speeds up its motions. he throws his head back, his own hand coming to rest on the back of your head. 

you stick your tongue out, licking the bead of pre-cum that had gathered on his tip. you take his tip into your mouth entirely, swirling your tongue around it. you take your hands of and nudge your head down his length further. he takes this opportunity to fuck your mouth. 

saliva builds up in your mouth with every pass of his cock in your throat. you can’t even take all of it in your mouth, even with the tip passing your uvula. you cough around his length, more saliva spilling out of your mouth. a puddle is gathering on the floor between your knees. 

he holds your head steady as his seed spills into your throat suddenly. you gag, the saltiness overtaking your tastebuds. you remove your mouth from his half-hard length, swallowing his seed. you wipe your mouth, the gloss staining your hand.

wooyoung helps you off your numb knees, holding your hand up to his mouth. he licks the gloss remnants off the back of your hand. he adjusts the recording camera to face the mattress. he then connects his lips to yours, nibbling on your lips. he backs you up towards the battered mattress. he helps you lower yourself onto the mattress. 

he removes your bright red panties and throws them across the room. he settles himself between your legs. he doesn’t intend to enter you just yet. he has a fascination with your breasts. he has since you took your robe off. he wants to touch them.

“arch your back” you do as told and he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra. he does it with one hand. impressive. he discards your bra with your panties. wooyoung trails his hands over your hardened nipples. he tweaks one of them, a whine leaving your mouth. he alternates between each of your breasts. poking, prodding, tweaking. 

he leans down to connect his mouth with the plush skin. he leaves dark blue and red marks all over your bare skin. the hairs all over your body stand on edge as he does this. your hands tangle in his black locks, tugging just barely.

when he finally disconnects from your bitten chest, a trail of saliva leaves you connected. the sight makes you clench around nothing.

he readjusts himself between your legs. he palms himself before aligning with your hole. he looks at you with a sweetness in his eyes as he sheathes himself in you. his mouth hangs open in a small ‘o’ shape. you arch your back, the movement causing slight twitches throughout your body. 

he slams into you harshly. your entire body jolts with each movement. your own mouth hangs open, gasping moans coming out of it. fast, panting breaths cause your chest to rise and fall rapidly. 

‘woo- ah, wooyoung please” you wrap your legs around his waist and try and get him as close to you as possible. your back twitches, alternating between being flat and being fully arched. your nails dig into wooyoung’s forearm. 

“cumming, fuck, woo gimme cum” you beg. you pout your lips, licking over your lips. your swollen, fucked out state sends him over the edge. he groans your name, spilling himself intp you. you cum along with him, a loud cry of his name escaping your own mouth. 

he gets up off of you, pulling his underwear and pants back up his legs. he hands you your bra, which you quickly put back on. he stops the recording and picks his camera up off the tripod. he positions the halo back onto your head and snaps a photo of you, all covered in makeup and sweat.

“perfect shot.” 

© lomlhwa 2023

[blues824]

Could I get Dorm Leaders + sweet boy Jamil being given homemade chocolates and an extra special gift (Riddle gets heart shaped chocolates and roses, Jamil gets mixed chocolates and curry bread) from their s/o?

For this one, Reader confesses to them using the gifts they brought the character. Gender-neutral, btw. Eat up, my Will-o’-the-Wisps!

Riddle Rosehearts

He was pretty excited when you had asked to meet him at the wishing well in the courtyard, as it was legend that a princess wished for love and received it there. So, he had very high hopes, but he was also nervous. Did you know the story? Were you confessing your love to him? 

His heart rate went up even more when he saw you making your way towards him with a box and a bouquet of red roses. You even looked a bit shy as you approached him, but you held your head up high just like he told you to do so many times. 

“Hey, Riddle! I wanted to give these to you!” You gave him the box and the flowers, and he leaned himself against the edge of the well so that he could open the box easier. He did, and he saw a bunch of heart-shaped chocolates that had icing on them saying I Love You, Riddle.

The blush that erupted on his face put his own hair to shame as you started telling him about your feelings for him and how you’ve had them for a little while now and how you made the chocolates yourself as a way to confess. He placed the items down gently, reached for your hand, and kissed the back of it as he thanked you.

Later, Riddle told Trey about the whole thing, and the Vice Housewarden was surprised that the Prefect of Ramshackle loved the Heartslabyul Housewarden. He even got a glimpse of the chocolates, and they looked professionally done. Riddle took the roses and chocolates up to his room, where he ate them (still in disbelief that his crush just confessed to him). He started coming up with ideas to repay you, and his first thought was to take you out.

Leona Kingscholar

You had asked if you could meet up in the greenhouse, and he was already there napping so it was very convenient for him to just wait for you there. He was wondering why you couldn’t just text it to him, seeing as that would be easier than actually going over to where he was.

However, he understood why when he saw you with a gift bag. You looked very shy and nervous, and he could sense it as well. Did he have this effect on you? Well that just boosted his pride and ego past where it originally was.

“Hello, Leona. I wanted to give this to you, and I’ll explain why after you open it.” You handed him the bag, and he took out the tissue paper to reveal a custom made plushie that was of you and him, your hands attached, as well as a box of something. He opened that to reveal chocolates, detailed with gold accents and scratch marks to symbolize the lion that he was.

Then, you began to rant about how you had feelings for him for a while, ever since you both met in the same spot you both were standing. He cut off your rambling by placing a passionate kiss on your lips, telling you to be quiet and that he liked you too.

Once he had returned to Savanaclaw, he was just staring at the plush and chocolates as he recalled what happened in the greenhouse. He was glad that his little herbivore got the courage to confess to him, but he then started to realize that he needed to step up and get his act together if he was going to be your boyfriend.

Azul Ashengrotto

You asked if you could meet him in his office, and this man was freaking out. He wanted everything to be perfect. He made sure there wasn’t a single speck of dust and that the twins would be away doing their jobs. He did not want any interruptions.

The moment you walked in, Azul was so nervous. He did not know what to do with his hands, if his hair was out of place, if his suit was wrinkle-free. His heart rate was through the roof. However, you seemed to be in a similar state as you placed a box and a reversible octopus on his desk and sat down.

“So, Azul, I’ve come to talk to you about something,” you started off saying. The cecaelia opened the box to reveal a bunch of chocolates in the shape of seashells. He looked up at you and saw that you were looking down and messing with your hands.

You told him about how you had a crush on him and hoped that he would accept the chocolates that you made as a confession, and the shade of red his face was becoming was brighter than Marilyn Monroe’s signature red lip. He went around the desk and pulled you out of your seat and into a kiss, signifying that he accepted your confession.

That night, Azul was talking to himself about what he could do for your first date, and he came up with a multitude of ideas. Going on a walk seemed too simple, and going to a fancy restaurant seemed a bit too grand for a first date. He then realized that you might appreciate dinner at the Lounge, just the two of you.

Kalim Al-Asim

If you wanted to find this man, he’s probably at his dorm. So, you texted him and asked to meet him at the Scarabia Lounge. He was bouncing around in excitement as he waited for you to get there. He loved you and your company, and he always looked forward to when the two of you got to hang out with each other.

When you went through the doors, he jumped up and almost tackled you in a hug. You just barely saved the box you had brought with you, along with the flowers you bought for him. It was a bouquet of assorted flowers, since you (read: author) weren’t aware of what flowers he liked.

“Kalim, I brought you some stuff!” You exclaimed as you handed the items to the Housewarden of Scarabia. He thought that the flowers smelled absolutely wonderful, and he opened the box to reveal chocolates in the shape of scarab beetles (representative of his dorm), sprinkled with coconut shavings. You remembered that he loved coconut!

As you explained that you had a crush on him, he was so overcome with joy that he just sprinkled your face with soft kisses, like the rain that is a part of his unique magic. Mans had no shame as a few dorm members walked by, as he just finished by placing a big kiss on your lips as he shouted thank you thank you thank you.

This guy was just buzzing with excitement as he took the gifts back to his room later that night. He ate a few of the chocolates, and he thought it was the most delicious chocolate that he had ever had. The beetle shape was definitely unique and intricate as well. He was just so happy that you returned his feelings.

Jamil Viper

Since he was usually all over the place, you had to set a place and a time to meet him, and it was in the kitchen of the Scarabia dorm. He really wanted to spend some time with you after a stressful day of running errands.

He saw you enter and he let out a sigh of relief, but then he noticed the different things in your hands. You had a box and a bag of curry bread. You also seemed very shy… did he intimidate you, little mouse? He liked the fact that he made you feel like this.

“Hey, Jamil. Brought you some things. I’ll explain once you see.” How mysterious. He set the curry bread on the counter, and gently took the box from your hands. He opened it to find a few pieces of chocolate. The lid had your handwriting, explaining that the chocolates had different fillings. However, that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the message on the chocolate, saying I Am Yours.

His hands started shaking as he read and reread the message over and over again, making sure that this wasn’t a dream or some sort of trick. You grabbed his hand in yours to try and steady it, but in a flash he placed the box down and pulled you into a tight hug. He whispered to you thank you, and just continued to hold you close.

That night, he was in his room when he looked at where he placed the chocolates, and he started blushing so hard. You were his. He finally had someone to call his. It still didn’t completely sink in, but he had the best dream when he went to sleep.

Vil Schoenheit

You both had a hangout where you sat as he did your skincare and makeup just to allow him to be able to talk about his issues (Neige) and how stressful running his dorm (Epel) was. You were the only person who he felt he could be transparent with.

One of those days, you walked into the Housewarden’s room with a box and a bouquet of lilies, and he asked you what it all was. You then got a bit nervous, and he could tell. He watched as you told yourself to get it together, and it was very amusing to him.

“So… Vil… I got a few things for you…” You started off as you handed the items over. He quickly went to grab a vase to put the flowers in before going to grab the box. He opened it, and saw that there were a few pieces of chocolate. You assured him that it was dark chocolate, and therefore was a tad healthier.

You started to ramble about how you caught feelings for him and that you wanted to get to know him as his significant other. He was very flattered, since he was very attracted to you as well. He was actually planning an elaborate plan to confess, but it looks like he didn’t need to. He placed a kiss on your palm as he thanked you.

Later, he could be seen in his room enjoying the chocolates that were so expertly made by his beloved Y/N. He was weirded out by that thought… his Y/N. He smirked a little at finally being able to call you that. It would take some getting used to, but he did like it.

Idia Shroud

You would most likely be able to find this man in his room because he doesn’t like going anywhere. However, because he has such a huge crush on you, he will probably stutter and falter and malfunction whenever he sees you.

So, you decided to let Ortho know that you would be making your way to Ignihyde. He sent a notification to his older brother, who was freaking out once he read the message. Before he knew it, you were at the front door and with gifts it looked like. 

He opened the door, but his hair was a bright red. You seemed to be in a similar state of nervousness, but minus the hair. You handed him the box and the pomegranate-scented candle that you were holding, and let him open it.

It was chocolate. More specifically, chocolate that you had made. The blush on his face worsened (if that was even possible at this point). You started rambling about how you were using these items to confess your love for him, and he passed out.

When he had woken up, you were there and dabbing a damp cloth on his head. His blush came back when he remembered what happened. The way you hugged him when you saw that he woke up took him by surprise, but he decided to let himself indulge in it and he hugged you back.

Malleus Draconia

When you told him after class that you desired to converse with him during your nightly walk, he had to admit that he was both nervous and excited about what you had to tell him. In fact, he needed to talk to you about something as well. He wanted to ask if you would enter a courtship with him, and he wanted to give you the emerald that was the heart of his hoard to symbolize and solidify his love for you.

He arrived at Ramshackle’s gate, and he was surprised when you led him inside. However, he understood when he saw the box and the ice cream beside it. The smile on his face reminded you of a small child, and it was so adorable.

“I got these for you, Tsunatarou!” You brought out two bowls and some spoons and served you both some ice cream. He was about to take a bite when he remembered the box. You slid it to him, and he gently opened the lid to reveal chocolates with silver and gold accents, some of them having the crest of Diasomnia.

You started telling him about how you loved him and how you wanted him to accept your confession but that he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to, but he cut you off by pulling you in a long but sweet kiss. This was the happiest goddamn day in his very long life.

That night, he kind of just floated around Diasomnia in a state of bliss. Lilia was very curious as to what had happened, and he already guessed that it had something to do with you. Silver and Sebek were both confused until their ‘father’ explained that you might have confessed. The former knight was happy, but the latter knight was absolutely appalled.