#You've always had it real lavish

[girlkissing-loser-riot-grrrl]

the bridge to affluenza is one of my faves from conan

[loveunto1d]

Empty thoughts just rough sex with dilf Bang Chan ☝️🎀

no because e x a c t l y! dilf!chris loves that he gets to have you in ways that no one else has before and takes so much pride in what you've created together that he's almost insatiable because of it, always chasing the high of those precious feelings you've given him. i have SO many thoughts...i'll share a few before i spare you of my otherwise extensive list

pairing: dilf!bang chan x wife!reader

dilf!chris who loves his kids (and you) more than anything but who not-so-secretly dislikes the fact that he has to be so careful about when and where he can fuck you, so he goes out of his way to create as many opportunities as possible

dilf!chris who sneaks off and tells the kids that he's helping mommy with the laundry with the knowledge that the sound of the machine might help drown out the sound of him pounding into you, especially if he bends you over it so that it at least sounds like the noises are coming from the right spot.

dilf!chris who also tells the kids to go play in the living room while you're cooking "because it's not safe to roughhouse near the cooktop or the oven". the real reason is that he wants some privacy to be able to grind his dick against his wife's ass and tell her how hard he's going to fuck her once the little ones are asleep.

dilf!chris who books lavish hotel rooms on date nights just so that he doesn't have to worry about being quiet. and since you don't have to worry about interruptions there, you can go for however many rounds he decides. never less than three.

dilf!chris who hires a part time nanny who he pays generously so that he can feed his craving anytime he wants since they'll always cancel on other families for the money they'll get from watching the bang children if an extended family member's not around to do it.

dilf!chris who has two preferred ways of helping you relax: eating you out or fucking you dumb. he spoils you with other things to help in this regard, too, but he's selfish and likes it better when he's involved.

dilf!chris who's so easy to rile up by simply telling him that you want him to cum inside of you; him calling you his greedy slut while his hand wraps around your throat each time you do is something you've started to crave. "gonna put another baby in you since you love being so full of me."

dilf!chris who prefers missionary because it gives him better access to your face and he's got a bit of a thing for grabbing your jaw while he asks if you're sure you want another one or if you're just feeling so fucked out that you don't really know any better.

dilf!chris who, despite preferring missionary, regularly fucks you in front of the mirror just so that he can tell you how beautiful you are and force you to look, too. he praises you even more now that you've had his kids. while other moms worry whether their husbands are still attracted to them after birthing children, you know that you're even sexier to your husband now based on the way he treats you like rarely found, highly favored prey.

dilf!chris who forgets that fucking you in front of the mirror in itself doesn't really do anything for you when he's pulling your hair so hard that the angle your of your head makes it nearly impossible for you to see your reflection. at least you can look up and see his pretty eyes looking right back at you, though.

maybe i'll come back to this and add more of my thoughts eventuallyyyy

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: a request by @morchilluv - "we definitely need a slow burn story of Sam and the reader with some sexual tension and being smutty"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, kind of a sad slow burn romance, a dash of sexual tension (I feel like I make up for it), flirting, real feelings being masked, not so secret jealously, passive aggressive comments/actions, slightly angsty, biting, scratching, hair pulling, unprotected passionate sex, filth

Word count: 8.6k | NOT edited

I didn't mean for this to be as sad as it actually is, but I like it regardless. Sorry if it's not exactly what the request asks, I tried!

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

YOUNGER YEARS

Your family has always been friends with Sam's family, so naturally, anytime there was a party, you and Sam would always run off to hang out.

You had a massive crush on him, and since you were young, you didn't really know how well to conceal it, so your cheeks were always red and your smile never faded with him.

You had a habit of taking pictures, the sunsets, the clouds, animals. You even have multiple blurry pictures of the moon. You took pictures of literally anything that made you happy, and eventually, you got comfortable enough with taking pictures of Sam any time you wanted to.

He always posed or smiled, but that was always when he knew you were taking a picture. He'd even send you selfies throughout the day on days you weren't hanging out.

You snapped canid pictures of him, too. One of your favorites is him playing the guitar.

You were just kids at the time, not really knowing what love was exactly, but you knew that you didn't want to be without him, even if you were just friends.

That's what it was for a while. You mainly had his attention, even when he did get a girlfriend or talked to a girl. It was puppy, middle school love, so it never really lasted long.

Eventually, Colby started to hang out with you guys, becoming the trio that you are today, but we'll get into that.

Colby would always tease you about liking Sam. He knew before Sam ever did, which honestly to you, took a while for him to understand, or so you thought.

As you became friends for some time, Sam started to flirt back on occasion, mainly when it was just the two of you. When Colby was around, or anyone else for the matter, he wouldn't flirt.

He treated you like he treated Colby, on some levels that is, and it was like that for a while.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Sam and Colby grew big on Vine, quickly building a platform for themselves on YouTube.

You weren't in any of their videos, mainly because you just thought it was weird and you didn't think you could do it.

They've tried and tried again to get you to join them, and you did for maybe one or two videos, but you just sat back mostly, helping them with certain ideas and skits.

You were the girl who always got accused of being one of their girlfriends because you were always with them.

For a while you all took turns replying to certain tweets, denying it, but eventually, you all came to the realization that with fame, comes persistent fans, so all three of you decided to just let people think what they wanted.

You still wished that the rumors between you and Sam would come true, being a teenage girl, you were always told that a girl shouldn't chase a guy, but before you actually realized it, that's exactly what you were doing.

Once graduation hit, you moved from the place you grew up in, to LA.

Sam and Colby got a nice, lavish apartment, with an extra bedroom for editing and one for you, of course.

You traveled with them. Explored with them.

You really became a big part of the 'XPLR' team and an even bigger part of you fell deeper in love with Sam.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

PRESENT DAY

Sam has been heavy on your mind lately, mainly because you thought it was finally time to tell him how you were really feeling.

For years, you've convinced yourself that he knew and liked you, too. The constant flirting back and forth, finding yourself in moments to where you weren't really sure what was going to happen, but it was full of tension, but in a good way.

Sexual tension.

It was there, always surrounding the two of you at the best such as when you're filming a reaction video and he the way he looks at you is just pure lust, or even when you're at home, watching a movie and a sex scene comes on.

Your mind instantly goes to recreating it Sam, and the way he looks at you makes you think that he has those same thoughts with you.

Then there's the worst times, where you're out with friends, drinking. You take one tipsy look at Sam and you feel like you're done for. The only thing stopping you is completely making a fool out of not really yourself, but Sam.

So as usual, it doesn't go anywhere but shoved to the back of your mind.

You kept falling in love with him all over again, doing whatever it took to keep him in your life, but then everything took a turn and you suddenly felt yourself almost hating him.

Girl after girl, situation after situation, you found yourself wanting to distance yourself, save yourself from a massive heartbreak, but it was a little too late for that.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Where are you going?" Sam asks, looking up at you as you get up from your chair.

"To get a drink." You laugh, "You want one?"

He nods, looking back down at his phone, "Yeah, can you bring me one of those strawberry smoothie things?" You purse your lips, "I think there's only one left."

He looks up from his phone dropping it into his lap, "Really?" You nod, "Yeah and that's what I was going to get."

After a few seconds of silence, you find yourself racing to the kitchen, trying to beat Sam to the fridge. He grabs your waist, pulling you back and spinning you away from the door, "No, it's mine!"

You turn, pushing him backwards, "No! I wanted it first!" You laugh, "It's mine!"

He wraps his arm around your waist, lifting you up so your feet are just off the floor, "No, no. It's mine." He walks you back to the couch and throws you onto it with a laugh, "Stay!"

He turns, running towards the kitchen but you leap off the couch, catching up to him and jumping onto his back.

His hands grip the back of your thighs, "Big mistake, missy."

You cover his eyes, "Oh yeah? Try finding the fridge now." He laughs, reaching one arm out in front of him, "You act like I don't have this kitchen engraved in my mind."

He walks over to the fridge and you extend an arm out, trying to stop him. He reaches up, you still clung to his back, and pulls your hand from his face, "Just.." he opens the door, "Let me.." he groans as he reaches forward for the bottle, "Have it!"

"No! It's mine!" You can't help but laugh, "Sam!"

He leans back and you slam your hands to his chest as you feel like you're going to fall, "No! Don't do that!"

He laughs and walks back, "Sit."

"No." You tighten your legs and he sighs, "Fine, we can stay here all day. I don't care." He laughs and you tilt your head, leaning over to look at him, "I'll sit.. if you promise to share it with me."

He sighs, "You're asking a lot." He smiles and looks over at you, "fine."

You hold out your pinky, "Promise."

He brings his hand up, locking his pinky with yours, "I promise."

You slide off his back onto the counter, keeping your eyes on him as he walks forward to the fridge and grabs the bottle.

He turns around, pretending like he's going to run away and you move forward, stopping when he stops, "Ha! Gotcha!"

"I hate you." You smile, rolling your eyes as you sit back comfortably, "Now, give me some." You reach out and he walks over, standing between your knees.

You take a quiet breath, looking up at him as he cracks open the drink.

You've always wanted him to fuck you on the counter. Every time you're in the kitchen with him, you have hopes of him just bending you over and-

"Y/n." Sam waves his hand in front of your face and you blink, "Hmm?"

"I said here." He holds the open drink up and you laugh, "Oh, yeah. Sorry." You take it, bringing it up to your lips.

"What are you doing? Daydreaming about me?" He teases with a smirk and you about choke on your drink, "Mm." You cover your mouth with your wrist, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He shrugs, "That depends."

"On what?" You tilt your head, taking a sip again and he sighs, laying his hands on your knees, "Tell me and I'll tell you."

"Mm, I see." You nod, "Okay. I was daydreaming about you... giving me the rest of this drink."

"I'll give you the rest of something." He mumbles before snatching the half full drink from your hand. He drink a little bit more of it, keeping his eyes on you as he tilts his head back slightly.

"Please do." You smirk and he shakes his head, "You'd like that too much." He hands you the drink back and steps back, "I'm going to go edit."

You let out a quiet sigh, "Okay."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A Few Hours Later

"What are you guys thinking for dinner?" Colby asks as he walks into the editing room. You sit up from the bed, glancing at Sam, "I honestly have no idea."

"Are we going out to eat or?" Sam leans back, spinning around in the chair to face Colby.

Colby nods, "I mean, how else are we going to celebrate that we got a yes to explore the place everyone else gets a no from."

Sam jumps up from the chair, "What!?" He lays a hand on his head, "Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking with me?"

You smile, watching Sam get exited like a kid in a candy store, "I don't think he's joking, Sam."

"Show me." Sam walks over, "Show me, that god dang email." He watches intently as Colby taps on his screen, "Now do you believe me?"

Sam takes a step backwards, "Do you know what this is going to do for us, Colby?" His eyes move to you and your smile grows smaller.

It's always been hot and cold with you and Sam.

One minute you could be inches away from kissing, then the next he's taking some girl to an abandoned zoo to hang out.

You think that it's because he probably doesn't know you like him, but then at the same time, you also think, how the fuck doesn't he know?

"Congratulations guys." You say getting up from the bed, "I'm proud of you both." You go to walk out, but stop when you feel a hand on your shoulder, "and where do you think you're going?"

You laugh slightly, turning around, "To my room?"

"It better be to get dressed because you're coming, too." Sam smiles and you tilt your head, "Really?"

Colby steps in, "Y/n. You have been with us from the start. You've helped us crack some of the cases we weren't even sure we could. You're a vital part of this, so yes. Of course you're coming."

You nod, "Okay. I'll go get ready." You slowly turn and walk to your room, Colby's speech replaying in your head.

You loved both of them, Colby platonically, Sam, not so much.

You'd be his if he asked, in a heartbeat. You've loved that man since you first laid eyes on him in middle school.

But it's never been you.

You sit down at your vanity, cycling through your lip sticks as you decide on what color dress you should wear tonight.

"Hey." Sam's voice is quiet and you turn around, "Can we talk?" You nod, setting down the lipstick tube, "What's up, Sam?"

He walks over, sitting on the end of your bed. He chews on the inside of his cheek, "So, I'm thinking about inviting someone to dinner and I figured that maybe you can help her feel comfortable throughout the night? Talk with her, ya know. Be her friend?"

You're kind of shocked, but you shouldn't be. Yes, Sam shows interests in you, but it's mainly when there's not someone else trying to get his attention.

As much as you don't want to feel like a second choice, that's honestly how you end up feeling at the end of the day.

"Yeah." You smile, lying through your teeth, "Not a problem at all."

"Really?" He sighs, "Thank you. She's kind of nervous because you know how people are, and if it gets out that we're ce-"

"I know how it goes Sam." You laugh slightly, "Don't worry about it."

"I owe you one." He stands up, giving you a smile as he turns and walks away. You turn back to the mirror and see him stop.

You watch as he turns around, leaning against the doorframe, "You should wear the white dress." He knocks on the frame and smirks before he disappears.

You sit there, analyzing the situation, which you know you shouldn't do because it's just going to drive you insane, like why tell you what dress to wear?

What's it matter?

You huffed, taking a deep breath as you switch on your curling iron. You set it down, giving it time to heat up by getting all of your makeup that you're going to use out.

You paint your lips in the deep red color, smirking as you know it'll go good with that ivory white color.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

After curling your hair, you stand up, walking over to your closet and opening the doors. You push through the clothes, eyes dragging up and down every other dress option until you reach that certain one.

You take it off the hanger, turning around to lay it on your bed. You walk over to the door, getting ready to close it, when Colby's hand stops it from closing completely.

"Colby?" You question and open the door a bit more, "I'm getting ready to change."

He nods, "It'll be quick, I just want to make sure you're good."

You give him a confused look, "I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugs, "I just know big dinners aren't really your thing, so I just wanted to-"

"I'm good, Colbs. Thank you." You give him a smile, knowing that that isn't why he asked. You've been tied at the hip with them for years.

He knows you like the back of his hand, but he never wants to push to get answers from you. He knows you'll come to him if it ever came down to it.

You close the door and turn out, letting out a sigh because you weren't fine. If you didn't have such great self control, you would have smacked sense into Sam when he was sitting on the end of your bed.

You walk over, taking off your clothes to replace them with the beautiful ivory dress in front of you. It was a chiffon wrap dress with mesh sleeves, and to say the least, you were in love with it.

You walk over, bending down to find a pair of heels to match, and quickly enough, you found a pair right on top.

You make sure you have everything you need for the night before flicking the lights off as you walk out of your room.

Colby whistles as you walk down the steps and you smirk, "Boosting my ego, are we?" You walk over to him and he shrugs, "Like it's my job." He laughs and leans back against the counter to check his phone, "Yo Sam! We gotta get going, brotha."

You've got to be kidding me, you think as Sam walks down the steps. He's wearing a, pretty much, all white outfit. The only thing that isn't white are his shoes and the zipper on his jacket.

Same ivory color as your dress.

"Are we ready?" Sam asks as he opens his gold glasses to put them on. Colby laughs, "We were waiting for you, so question is." Colby points to Sam, "Are you ready?"

Sam laughs and runs his hand through his hair, "Let's do it."

You follow them towards the door and they let you walk out first. You stop before the steps, waiting for them to shut and lock the door.

You follow Colby down the steps towards the car, Sam following behind you. Colby opens your door, letting you get in first.

You sit in the back row with Colby. Sam in the row in front of you guys because, you know, he has a date and all.

"Where to?" The driver asks and Sam hums, "Mm. One second." You watch over his shoulder as he asks some, Lylah, what her address is.

Colby nudges you and you look back at him. He smiles as he shakes his head, mouthing, "What are you doing?"

You lean back, whispering to him, "Just being nosey."

You laugh, along with Colby and Sam turns around, "Secrets don't make friends you know." You raise your brows, looking down to pick at your dress with your fingers, "Lots of things don't make friends, Sam."

You force a laugh, trying to not make it seem as deep as it really is, to you at least.

You can feel Colby stare at you as Sam tells the driver where he's supposed to go and you just shake your head.

You didn't have to talk to Colby about anything, because he already knew.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You come to a stop outside a rich looking apartment building, it looks like a fancy hotel.

Sam gets out and you bend down, leaning over Colby as you peer out the window, "Shit." You whisper quietly.

"Do you know this girl, Colby?" You ask leaning back up. Colby shrugs, "I've met her once, I think? It was when we were going meet and greets, she came and hung out with us with for the day, but I barely spoke to her."

"Hmm. Okay." You nod, leaning back against the seat, watching from the corner of your eye as Sam and his lady friend walk around to get in.

There's a perfectly good door.. right there, you think, rolling your eyes subtly as her head dips into view, "Hi Colby."

"Hey. How are ya?" Colby nods and she sits down with a sigh, "I'm actually doing pretty good." Her eyes move to you, "Hi y/n." She tilts her head, "I love the dress you're wearing."

Sam gets in, glancing back at you after closing the door.

Yeah, Sam told me to wear it, is what you want to say, "Thank you, it's the chiffon wrap dress from the new collection that just dropped from Zelenki's."

"Oh, yes! I love their clothing. I just bought a pair of jeans from there the other day. I'm super excited to see them." She smiles, turning towards Sam, "We need to get this guy on their site. He would look so good in some of their button ups."

She points to Sam and you nod, "Yeah, I'm sure he would."

Her face kinda falls for a second before she blinks and brushes her bangs from her face, "So where are we going to celebrate?"

"We decided on Ambiance." Colby says and she claps her hands together, "I love going there." She looks at you, "Y/n, if you're into alcohol, they have the best martini's."

You nod, "You bet I'll be drinking tonight."

Colby taps your leg, trying not to laugh, and you shrug, "To celebrate these guys getting the deal of a lifetime."

"Well, I wouldn't say t- well, you know what. We can say that." Sam laughs, smiling as he looks back at Colby.

Colby reaches up, patting Sam's shoulder, "This year is going to be sick for us."

After arriving to the restaurant, you get out and stand next to Colby. Sam and Lylah walk around and you have to look away, because if you don't, your face will give it away that you think her dress is completely ridiculous.

It looks like a prom dress that's been cut at the thigh.

"Pretty dress." You force a smile and she slides her hand down the front to smooth it out, "Thanks. Sam actually told me to wear it, he said he wanted to do a blue and white thing to kind of match."

Her eyes graze up and down your dress, moving to Sam's outfit as she lays her hand on his chest. You can tell that it really bothers her that you and Sam are the ones who are actually matching.

It's written all over her face.

"Alright." Colby claps his hands together, "Let's go in, because I'm hungry." He wraps his arm around your waist, leading you inside a head of Sam and Laylah.

"Brock and Golbach." Colby tells the host and he nods, "Ah yes. Right this way please."

You follow Colby through the sea of tables, making your way to the one room in the back corner.

"Your waitress will be right with you." The host nods and walks away.

Colby pulls your chair out, allowing you to sit before taking his seat next to yours. Sam sits in front of Colby, Layla in front of you.

"So, she leans forward, the martini I was talking about was this one." She points her pink painted nail onto the little card, "The chocolate martini. It's to die for."

Colby sniffles, hinting that you need to be nice, so you smile, "I think that's what I'll get then. Put your trust to the test." You wink at her and lean back, looking down at your menu.

You really did want to be nice to her, but mainly because Sam asked you to. But, at the same time, he doesn't see what's right in front of him, so you also wanted to kind of give him a, hey, fuck you.

"The pomegranate martini is also really good." You look up at her and she tilts her, "Well then I guess I'll have to put your trust to the test." She smiles and you laugh slightly with a nod, "Alright then."

As time goes on, more friends of Sam and Colby come in, joining the table. Everyone orders and now you're conversing back and forth with different people.

Every so often, your eyes will move towards Sam, and his eyes will meet yours.

Every time, you ask yourself why, and even how can he be so blind?

Colby lays his arm on the top of your chair, Sam's eyes following his movements before bringing his glass to his lips. He looks over at Laylah, leaning in to take a selfie with her.

He smiles that beautiful smile and you force yourself to look away.

"so y/n. Will you be joining the boys on this exciting trip?" Laylah sets her phone down, folding her arms over one another as she leans forward.

You look between Sam and Colby, shrugging slightly, "It's ultimately up to them, but I would lo-"

Sam and Colby speak at the same time, cutting you off, "She's coming."

Not only you, but Laylah raises her brows too, "Well I guess that answers that." She laugh, bringing her wide mouthed glass to her lips, finishing the rest of her drink, "I'm going to go get another one, y/n. Care to join?"

You reach down, grabbing your glass and finishing it, "I would love to." You smile, rising from your seat, smiling to the others as you walk around the long and full table.

"So, anything new with you?" She asks as you walk up to the bar. You shrug, "Nothing really." You laugh, "I mean, nothing more than the trips to investigate the ghostly world."

She nods, "I could never do that." She looks away to raise a hand to the bartender then back to you, "Is it really as scary as the videos make it seem?"

You nod, "Oh yeah. It's one thing to watch it through a screen but it's another thing to actually be there and witness it."

She nods, "Yeah I bet." She turns, "I'll have another pomagranete martini, and she'll have.." she points to you and you lean in, "Make it two."

The bartender nods and Laylah turns back to you, "So I don't really know how to ask this." She laughs, "Um."

"Just ask. I'm an open book." You smile and your smile quickly fades when the words leave her lips, "Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You tilt your head, slightly confused as to what changed. She clears her throat, "If you have a thing for Sam, I'm going to need you to drop it."

"If I have a- what? What the hell are you talking about?" You laugh, "I don't have a thing for Sam."

"Then why did you dress to match him? Why is it that I find you looking at him every time you think I'm not looking?" She sighs, "I get it, Sam is very, very handsome, and it's okay to be a little jealous, but can you not let your jealousy seep through, because if it happens anymore, it'll literally stain my dress."

You stand there, completely dumbfounded in silence.

She turns, "Oh, thank you." She grabs the glasses, handing one to you, "Cheers." She winks and starts walking back to the table.

You follow her, your cheeks heating up as you become angry at what just happened. You take a calming breath before you pass through the doors, putting on a smile as you walk back around to your seat.

"Everything go okay?" Sam asks and Laylah smiles, glancing up at you, "Oh yeah. Everything is just perfect." She leans over, pressing a kiss to his cheek and you clench your jaw.

You bring your glass to your lips and take a long sip.

"Attention, everyone." Someone at the end of the table stands up as they clink their glass. You lean forward, looking around Colby to see and you smile when you see their friend standing there.

"I just want to say a huge congratulations to Sam and Colby for landing this investigation. This is going to be one of the biggest investigations they've ever done and I cannot be more proud of them, so without further ado, please. Give my pals a huge, huge round of applause."

Sam and Colby stand up, smiling and batting their hands. You reach out, grabbing your phone so you can record a story for Instagram.

You smile as you type the words, congratulations guys. You deserve this so, so, so much!

You tag them and set your phone back down after posting. Colby leans in, "You're a part of this, too. Don't let them saying just us fool you."

You really felt like part of the team, that was until you got back from Italy, but that'll come with time.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

After dinner and an hour or two of talking about Poveglia, the four of you make your way back to the car.

"How long will you be in Italy for?" Laylah asks laying her hand on Sam's shoulder. She twirls his hair around her finger and you roll your eyes as you look away.

"A few days, four at most. We planned on seeing Venice again while we're over that way." Sam looks at her, giving her a smile.

She smiles, her eyes glancing back at you before she runs her hair through his hair, "Do you know when you leave?"

You and Colby look at each other, giving each other a look of disgust.

You knew what she was doing, and she knew it, too.

Sam shrugs, "Probably not for another week or so."

"So we have time to spend together before you flee the country." She giggles, "I mean, that's only if you want to."

Sam nods, "I mean.. I don't see why not." He chuckles and points, "Here, I'll walk you to the door." Sam opens the door when the driver stops and helps her out.

As soon as the door shuts, word vomit.

"When I went up to bar with her to get another drink, she cornered me and pretty much flipped out on me. She said that if I have a thing for Sam I need to drop it and then asked why I dressed to match him and then she said that I took any chance I got when she wasn't look, or I thought she wasn't looking to look at him and then to top it off she said that if anymore jealously seeped out of me it would literally stain her dress."

You take a breath and look at Colby who's staring at you, "I'm sorry, what?"

"She basically sa-" you stop talking as soon as the door opens again, and Sam gets back in, turning around to look at you, "So did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah." You raise your brows, "So much fun."

The driver starts to drive you guys back home.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks and you look up, ready to snap but you bite your tongue, "I'm fine, I just.. have a headache."

"Mm." Sam nods and turns back around. He brings his phone up, "What the fuck?"

"What's going on, Sam?" Colby asks and Sam face his phone towards you and Colby, "She's literally blowing up my phone."

"Why?" You ask, and Sam scoffs, "Why is she saying that you cornered her at the bar?"

"I didn't. If you want the truth she cornered me. I literally just told Colby everything that happened as soon as you got out." You motion towards Colby, "She accused me of liking you and basically said that I dressed to match you on purpose which, Sam. If I'm correct. You told me to wear this fucking dress."

"Let's not argue in here, please." Colby says trying to defuse the situation.

"Who said we're arguing?" You and Sam say the same time and you both huff.

"Exactly." Colby shakes his head, "Can we just wait until we get h-"

"Why would she say that you did though?" Sam looks at you and you shrug, "I don't know, maybe because she knows that we're close and I was bound to tell you?"

"Were you going to tell me?" Sam tilts his head and you shake your head, "No."

"Why?"

"Because Sam. I don't really think it matters, does it." You snap and the driver awkwardly puts his hand up, "You guys are uh.." he clears his throat, "Home."

"Thank you." You all say in unison. Colby gets out and helps you out and Sam comes around, ready to keep going but you walk away.

"Really?" He says loudly, "You're just going to walk away?" We need to talk about this."

"Can we do this inside?" Colby tries again but you stop in your tracks, turning around on your heels to walk back to him, "Do you really want to know why it's really not that important Sam?"

"Guys come on." Colby groans, "Please."

Ignoring Colby, Sam nods, "Yeah. I really do."

"Because you're bound to take your new girlfriend's side anyway, so why does hearing my side even matter?" You throw your arms up, "I've been trying to get-"

You stop talking and Sam tilts his head, "Trying to get what, y/n." Sam says plainly and you snort, "I don't even.." you shake your head, "You're so blind to certain things in front of you, that you just.."

You shake your head, "I can't do this. I can't do this right now." You blink away the tears that are forming quickly and turn to go inside.

Colby is standing there with the door already open and you barge past him. Sam on your tail calling out for you, "Y/n. Wait. Wait."

You stop halfway up the steps, "it doesn't. Matter. Sam. What don't you get."

He gets pissed, "Fine. Then don't fucking tell me. If you just want to run from this like you run from everything else th-" he stops talking, quickly coming to the realization that what he said was not what he wanted to come out.

You stand there, letting the tears you tried to blink away, fall, "Fuck. You."

You turn, running up to your room, shutting the door with a slam. You grab a suitcase, sobbing as you begin to throw clothes into it.

You hear footsteps come to your door and you sniffle, holding your breath so you can try and hear who it is.

There's a knock and you sigh, nose stuffy, "Go away, Sam." You wipe your cheek with your palm and Colby speaks from the other side of the door, "It's not Sam."

You take a second, hesitating to open the door but you give in. You walk over, cracking the door open and walking away to sit on your bed.

He slips in, not opening the door more than he has to, "Hey."

You sniffle, laughing slightly, "Hey."

He walks over, sitting next to you, "Are you-"

He stops talking as you look at him with a mascara streaked face. He nods, "Right. Yeah." You shake your head, looking towards the door, "What happened to us?"

"Us? You and me were fine." He smirks and you smile slightly, "You know what I mean."

He nods, "I don't think anything happened, y/n. I think.." he pauses and you look at him, "Just say it. I know you already know so just.." you push your hands out in front of you, "Lay it on me. Can't do much more damage."

"I'm just going to tell you what I think is happening, and you can correct me if I'm wrong, okay?" He look at you and you nod.

He nods, "Okay, so what I think happened, is that you are sick of Sam not seeing that you're in love with him."

Colby's words hurt, and the fact that they're true, makes it hurt even worse.

You nod, silently as you try not to cry.

"I also think, now, I love Sam to death, and I will tell you in true honestly that I did call him out on this, but I think Sam has led you on in a way." Colby looks over to the door and back to you.

"He's not on the other side of the door listening is he?" You point to it and Colby shakes his head, "No. he's in his room, waiting for his turn with therapist Colby."

You laugh slightly, taking in a sharp breath as your urge to cry comes back, "I just.." your voice cracks with your words, "I can't keep doing this."

"I know." Colby whispers, laying his arm around your shoulder, "I know."

"The constant flirting, him telling me to wear a dress that matches him without even telling me it matches and then completely blindsiding me with, oh he wanted to do a blue and white matching theme, fuck that."

You stand up, "I just don't-" you lay your hand on your face, "We go from being so close to kissing to this?" You gently fling your arms, "I jus-" you take a deep breath, "Have fun in Italy, call me when you can."

You zip your suit case and Colby grabs it, "No, I want you to come."

"I can't be around him, Colby. As much as I want to, I just.. it'll ruin everything."

"Everything already is ruined. Sam isn't going to forgive himself for what he said." Colby stands up and you shrug, "He can figure that out on his own. I'm done trying to get myself out of these feelings. I'm done trying to act like it's okay for him to hug me from behind then act like we're friends who just met, I'm just.. done trying to get him to love me.."

You look at Colby, "I'm done trying."

Colby frowns, "Y/n."

"I'm serious Colby, I'll come get the rest of my stuff when you guys leave for Italy." You pull the handle out from your suitcase and shake your head, "Make sure to tell him everything I said."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

It's been two days since they've left for Italy.

As you're lying in bed, in your room at their house, your pillow soaked from your tears that you can't turn off, your mind slips into the good memories of you and Sam.

"No. You can't be serious, Sam." You laugh, reaching across his body for grab a card.

He watches you as you slowly lean back, "What's it say?"

"It says.. what was the last dirty message you received?" You bite your lip and tilt your head. He copies your motion and raises his eyebrows, "Can I skip?"

You shake your head, "No way, Golbach. Spill it or.." You smirk, "Take three shots." He presses his lips together and tilts his head back, looking down his nose at you, "Gimme the bottle, baby."

You bite your lip as you reach for the bottle, sliding it across the table to stop in front of him.

He pours a shot, takes it. Then another, then the third and final shot, "Now what?" He leans in, "Are you going to tell me yours?"

Your eyes move from his lips to his eyes, "What if I say no?" You bite your lip and he shrugs, raising his eyebrows, "You tell me."

You back away from each other as Colby comes down the steps, "You're playing without me? Thanks for the invite I guess."

You roll onto your other side, trying to escape them, but you just can't.

"Whatcha doin?" Sam asks waking into the kitchen. You smile as you continue to scrub the glass dish, "Dishes."

"You know we have a dishwasher, right?" He laughs and you look over at him, "Not everything is dishwasher safe, Sam."

"I'm just saying.. nothing has broken on me.. yet." He laughs and walks up behind you, "Watcha listenin' to?"

You laugh, "Music."

You feel him walk up behind you and your scrubbing gradually slows down, "Why don't you take a break, I'm sure you've done enough damage on that dish, and dance with me."

You set the dish down and look at him over your shoulder, "What?"

He grabs your waist, spinning you around, "You heard me." He smiles and takes your bubble covered hand into his, his other hand still on your hip.

He pulls you a step out away from the sink and pulls you along with him. He laughs as he steps back, sliding his other hand into hours and you lift your arms, laughing as he spins you around.

He pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around your neck, "You know, you're fun to hang out with."

You sob into your pillow, angry at Sam all over again.

Your phone dings, and you assume that it's probably just Colby, giving you hourly updates on how their investigation is going.

You lift your head, picking up your phone when it chimes again.

Sam: I'm sorry

You force out a laugh, trying not to cry, "Don't do this." You close your eyes, "I can't." You whisper, clearing his message from your Home Screen.

You sit up, looking around at your half packed room.

You wanted to be out by the time they got back, you told Colby you were leaving, you also told him not to tell Sam.

As you stand up, throwing things into a box, your phone dings, and then a few more times, and you groan, "I swear to.. fuck." You groan, leaning down to grab it, eyes watering at each message you read.

Sam: I want you so much. You're all I fucking think about. please. Talk to me. I need to I don't know, explain my self I guess? I wasn't ready I didn't think I was ready to actually settle down and I know that's what you want or wanted with me Y/n Please don't just read these

An incoming call from Colby interrupts your stare at the texts that are still coming through, "Hello?"

"Please don't kill him." Colby says frantic on the other end of the phone. You furrow your brows, sniffling, obvious that you've been doing nothing but crying, "What are you-"

There's banging on the front door.

Loud, repetitive, non stop banging.

"What's fucking happening?" You pull your phone away from your ear, seeing Sam's texts,

Open the door I left everything in Italy

You put the phone back up to your ear, "Why is he here"

Colby sighs, "Just talk to him."

"No." You snap and Colby talks immediately, "Look, y/n. Neither one of us can do this investigation. We have to convince the people who own this to reschedule our visit. Sam couldn't keep it together for the intro."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Now please." He sighs, "Just go. Open. The door."

"Fine." You hang up, making your way down the steps. You move the curtain on the door and look out at a soaking wet Sam.

"Please." His words are muffled from the door being shut, but you can still tell what he's saying, "I love you."

You clench your jaw, unlocking the door and opening it, "Where was that before all of this?" You step out side the door, the pouring rain coming down onto you now, "do you know how painful it was to have feelings for someone you can't be with?"

"Y/n." Sam shrugs, lifting his hands from his sides, but you keep going, "Do you know how many times, I've wished for you to not be in love with someone else? Then you go and hang out with a girl at a place you took me to first?"

"I'm sorry." His voice cracks, "Just please.. let-"

"I was jealous that night Sam, the night you asked me to play nice with your new girlfriend, Laylah. I was so fucking jealous Sam. But do you know how fucking stupid I felt? Being jealous over someone that wasn't even mine?"

He nods and you scoff, "I don't think you do because if you would have asked me to be yours, I would have said yes in a fucking heartbeat and don't even come back with the you should have asked me, because I know damn well that you could tell I loved you, Colby even picked up on it before you did."

Sam stands there, staring at you, eyes red from crying.

Hair dripping wet from the rain, you can't judge him because you look the same way.

"We're almost the literal definition of he likes her, she likes him. It's obvious to everyone except them.. but the only difference is, I knew what I wanted. I wanted you and all you did was lead me on."

Tears mix in with the beads of rain that form on your cheeks, your voice breaking, "It shouldn't have come to this, Sam."

You stand still as he walks up to you, "Y/n."

"It.." you sniffle, "It feels like you destroyed me, Sam."

"Let me fix it." He mumbles as he slides his hands over your cheeks, tilting your head up so you can look at him, "Please." He rests his forehead against yours, "Let me fix it."

"There's nothing-"

He cuts you off, "Don't say there's nothing to do. Because there's everything to do."

You sob quietly, his hands still on your cheeks. His thumbs brush gently over your wet skin, "I called whatever it was off with Laylah the night we got into it. The night you left me."

Your eyes meet his, "Why."

"Because I knew that my forever was walking out that door and I knew I had to do everything in my power to get it back." He sniffles, "You've supported me since day one. You've loved me.. since day one."

"Why now, Sam? Why after you flew all the way to Italy? Why after it took me telling Colby I was done with everything? It shouldn't have come to this."

He doesn't say anything, the rain smacking against the pavement fills your ears.

You reach up, grabbing his wrists to pull them away but he presses his lips to yours.

As much as you want to pull away, you can't.

"Sam." You slide your hands around his neck, lips moving with his as he slides his hands down to pull your hips against his.

"Please." He whispers, sniffling as he gently brushes his nose again your cheek, "Y/n."

You stay silent, the only sound that comes from you is a few sniffles.

"I can't do anything without you." Sam wipes your cheeks with his thumbs, "I wish I knew how stupid I was being. I tried to push you away because I didn't want to hurt you. I wasn't ready, but y/n, sweetheart, the risk of you walking out of my life forever has made me realize that I want you. I want you in so many ways, it's actually kind of insane."

You look up at him, "It shouldn't have taken.. this.. for you to finally realize what you want, Sam."

He shakes his head, "I won't ever let it get to that point ever again, because you're mine." He lifts you up, your legs hugging his waist like they've always dreamed of doing.

Your arms snake around his neck, not saying another word as he walks through the door, kicking it closed, "I promise."

You lean in, hugging him as he walks over to the couch. He sits down and you moving your legs to straddle his lap.

You lean back, hands sliding around his neck to cup his wet cheeks. Your eyes move around his face, back and forth between his eyes before you lean in, pressing your lips to his.

The heat you have always dreamed up, felt every time your eyes met his, is there.

And it's hotter than ever.

"I love you." Sam whimpers against your lips, "I'm so sorry."

You shake your head, "We can talk later. Right now.. I just.." you rest your forehead against his, "Wanna be with you."

He nods, sweeping your body over to lay under his. His lips kiss from your him, down your neck, "I wish.. I knew how to love you like this before."

You run a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. He kisses back up to your lips, "Do you want to do this?"

You nod, tugging at his shirt, "Please."

He leans up, pulling his soaked shirt up over his body and tossing it onto the floor. You sit up and he does the same to your shirt, "You're so fucking beautiful."

His lips reconnect to yours and you moan quietly as he slowly grinds against you. He kisses back to your ear, his voice quiet, almost sounding like it's going to break, "You were the only girl I could ever think about."

Your eyes start to burn and you turn your head, reaching up to grab his so you can turn it towards you and kiss you.

The kiss is hot. Full of passion.

It's what you wanted all along.

He slides his hands down, slipping them into your rain soaked sweatpants. He pulls them down your legs, and reaches for the button on his pants, popping them open as he leans back down to kiss you.

He stands up, discarding his wet jeans to the floor before hovering his body back over yours.

He pushes his boxers down, just enough for his cock to spring free and he slips your panties to the side. Not wasting another second, he drops his head to your shoulder as he slowly slips his cock into you, burying it deep inside with a groan.

You gasp, clinging to him as you tighten your legs around his waist, breathing out a whiney, "Sam."

His nose brushes against your cheek as he lifts his head, "I love you, I'm so sorry." He pulls out, slowly thrusting back in, "I'm so sorry."

You wrap your arms around his neck, gasping with each thrust into you, "I love you." Your voice breaks, a small moan following after, "I've always loved you."

"I wish I knew I could have loved you like this." He kisses down your neck and back up, groaning lowly in your ear, "I wish I knew what I was risking."

You squeeze your eyes shut, a tear slipping down and falling down your cheek, "Don't ever.." you tangle your fingers in his hair, "Don't ever leave."

"Never." He pulls one of your hands down, interlocking it with his against your head as he lifts his to look at you, "I love you. No one could ever take your place."

You smile slightly and nod, "I'm holding you to it."

"As long as you need, baby." Sam smiles and sighs, "You were made for me." He kisses your lips, groaning against them as he thrusts harder but still slow.

You drag your nails up his back, moaning as he moves his head down to suck a mark into your neck.

His grip on your hand tightens, "I love you so fucking much."

You weren't ever going to get sick of hearing that.

You were relieved to finally be hearing it in the first place.

"I love you." You whisper, moaning as he lets go of your hand to bring it down to squeeze your boob. You tug his hair, arching your back as much as you can against his, "S-Sam."

"Cum with me, babe. Can you hold it?" He rests his forehead against yours as his fingers twist your nipple between his fingers.

You whimper, giving his a slight nod and he hums in response, "Almost there, sweetheart."

He thrusts a few moments longer before he kisses your cheek a few times, "Okay, okay, let go for me. Cum for me." His voice is quiet and his thrusts slow down as he feels you clench around him.

You let out a loud moan, pulling him into you as your nails dig into his skin.

He groans, pulling you closer by the hips, "F-fuck, fuck." He pulls out, letting his cum spill onto your lower stomach with a low moan.

You rest your head back, breathing heavy as your body relaxes.

He reaches down, grabbing his damp shirt and wiping you off. He tosses it down and holds his hand out, "Come here."

He pulls you to a sitting position and you immediately fall into him. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly, "I'm sorry it took me this long to realize."

"Better late than never, right?" You look up at him and he nods, "I guess." He smiles, pressing his lips to your forehead, "Go get a shower, standing out in the rain might get you sick."

"Only if you'll come with me. I'm not doing anything without you for a while."

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Genuinely sorry if this sucked. I'm not sure how I feel about it, honestly. So tell me how you liked it.

As always, thanks for reading & I love you!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated 🖤

[syrma-sensei]

→ Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.2: A New Window

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Setting: Pre-canon; in the early 1980s.

word count: 2.6k.

Warnings/Tags: Abusive relationship, angst, self-care, Ben's potty mouth, dick talk (It's Ben, what do you expect?), implied non/dub-con, power imbalance, misogyny, implied prostitution...

Summary: Soldier Boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

When your manager told you you were to sing side by side with Soldier Boy, you didn't believe him. Despite the fact Jack has a strong proclivity to humour — depraved humour at that, you know he seldom jests about business. Jack has a strict code when it comes to you. His precious little asset. So, when he says you are to sing with America's greatest hero, then you are.

“S-Soldier Boy?” Your voice is but a squeaky hush. You still find it intimidating, albeit quite ironic to say the least.

In spite of your stupor, you curb a scoff and suffice to have a private laugh between you and yourself. You never thought the Soldier Boy would be easy.

Jack smirks, his foxy eyes glimmering, “I had a call with the Legend early this morning, he said Soldier Boy had made a specific request for a collaboration with you. He wants you to stand by his side for his next cover song.”

As you come off it, you realise it really shouldn't have been a surprise to you. The man literally eye-fucked you last night with his rather captivating green eyes. You could perceive the primal desire that seared within them when he spoke and flirted with you. You're used to this kind of reaction from men, of course. You weren't in the entertainment industry for that long, but you've always fancied yourself a quick learner; and Jack made sure you learn faster. The real surprise to you is that Soldier Boy is being subtle about it. You gotta hand it to him, you're rather impressed.

“You seem to have made quite the impression on Soldier Boy last night, sweetheart.” Jack remarks, and you smile slightly, “Thanks to me, of course, I think I taught you well…”

Your smile falters a bit, because you know he's not saying that out of the sheer notion of teasing you. No, of course not, he can't but give himself the credits, he made you after all. You can't deny the fact; he salvaged you from the cruelty of being in the streets years ago, and made you what you've become today. A promising diva with a magnificent ore.

“What should I ever be without you?” You humour him with a smile, as he's always taught you. Do not contradict a man, especially one with power.

“The pole-smoke you had been before I plucked you from the streets.” His smirk widens, and the sly gaze Jack is giving her doesn't settle well in her.

Jack stands up from his seat and saunters down to you. His thumb strokes your lower lip, the unctuous gentleness makes your stomach roil.

“Listen to me, my pretty slut,” He tugs a strand of hair out of your face behind your ear, the maliciousness in his voice is well-coated with perfected inveiglement. His thumb is back to your lower lip, “You will go to Vought, do your supposed rehearsals, and indulge every whim Soldier Boy wants from you… even if he wants to muffle his cuban cigars in your pretty tits” He yanks her jaws up to make you look at him in the eyes, ignoring your small whimper, “Because you and I are both aware that he isn't only after that pretty voice of yours. Don’t you dare fuck this up, understood?”

You swallow the large bile in the back of your throat. Jack smiles at the vehemence of your nod. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He loosens his grip slightly. “Think of the offers you'll be lavished with after you sing next to Soldier Boy. You'll be one hell of a star, my star. Your pictures will be all over the country, and fuck, who knows, maybe you'd have a chance in L.A. too.”

Your mind floods with snaps of what your future might be. It wanders away, on a red carpet, where your heeled feet would treat with a swagger. Surrounded by camera flashes and ardent fans, just wanting you to look in their direction. And maybe, just maybe, Jack wouldn't be up on your ass anymore.

You shake your head back into the present. “What’s the song gonna be any way?” You ask Jack.

“Who fucking cares?” The latter shrugs, glancing at his wristwatch, “How about you find out yourself? Legend said Vought would send a private car to get you today.”

“So soon?” Your shoulders slump a bit.

“Is that hesitation I'm hearing?” He glares.

“N-No,” You gulp, “I’m just… it's happening a little too fast, don't you think?” Her lips curl in a dither smile.

Jack's frown deepens, “Aren’t you eager to make history?” He snickers, “Of course, a lowly whore like you isn't accustomed to the high steps of the ladder; you've always belonged at the bottom of it. What was I thinking.”

Tears start to burn in your eyes. You wonder why he's always so cruel to you? You always did what he wanted to please him. Before you started to perform at private parties and festivities, Jack used to drag you from an awful club to an even worse club, and exploited your voice and your other talents to fill up his pockets, under the excuse of enlarging and extending your audience; a good entertainer would perform for all of kind of people, he claimed. Promising that you'd make it up the ladder before you even knew it if you kept plugging. But now, and when you're at the threshold of achieving what he's always drilling into you, he is nothing but disparaging.

“No.” Your voice surprises you as it comes out with a defying tone.

“What’d you say?” Jack raises a brow.

“I said no, I don't belong to the bottom of the ladder.”

You expected the backhand slap, but you didn't expect it to make your mouth bleed.

“You’re my slut, my whore, I made you. Don't you dare concur yourself with me.” He seethes.

You grimace at the taste of iron as you swallow your blood silently, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Jack seems to rouse from his fit as his head tilts to the side. “Oh, no no, what’d I do?” He pulls his silky, cerulean handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabs it gently on the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and you give him a weak, sanguine smile. When he's done, he tells you, “Do cover it up with some makeup; we don't want Soldier Boy to see your pretty face worked up, do we?” He grins, but it's empty of any sliver of sympathy. “Now, shake a leg, would you? Legend said Soldier Boy wanted to see you by noon. We don't want to give them the impression that we're a bunch of slackers, do we?”

You nod meekly.

Ben groans in pleasure, his body shivering in a long lost voraciousness. He wonders if the curl of your lips when you smiled at him and the enchanting glance of your eyes have something to do with that as his load washes abundantly on his hand. He's so engrossed in his high that he doesn't detect the knocks on his door.

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Legend grouses, his head whipping away the moment he steps into Soldier Boy's bedroom.

The latter only smirks, deft hands tugging his softening cock back in his pants. “What’s the matter? Can't look at what you don't possess?” He drawls smugly, his voice saturated with a satisfied rasp from his recent ecstasy.

“I fucking knocked! Good thing I'm not an enemy.” Legend rolls his eyes behind his shades, “Who woulda thought Soldier Boy could be shanked when he whacked off.” Legend sneers, savouring in having this sleazy clapback at the supe.

Soldier Boy's smik widens, zipping his gear pants, “You’re just saying that because my dick is twice as yours.”

Legend appears to be quite unfazed, “Well, yeah, but I never had a woman who refused an ass-fuck because of it.” He sighs, “Anyway, Ms. (L/N), is here.”

“Fucking finally…” Ben perks up, a huge smile on his face. But the Legend's slight frown makes his eyes roll. “What is it?” It's not like he wants the latter’s approval, but Legend has proven his viewpoints can be useful when it comes to Soldier Boy's career.

“Look, I know the gal has the voice and the looks.” Legend says, “But don't you think she's way… below you?” Ben raises a brow as Legend continues, “There are many better options, just saying…” 

Ben clicks his tongue, his temper is starting to fume, “She’s a fucking blast. She has the fucking talent. Isn't it your job to look out for talents?”

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s her or nothin’.” Soldier Boy asserts, and when he reads hesitance on Legend's face, he adds, “You can still have Noir do it if you want to.” He shrugs, "But here you are, you handed it to me, because you know that I get how the job's done, and nobody can pull it off like me.”

“Fine!” Legend acquiesces, it's not like he has much of a choice. “I hope you're fucking right about her.” And you're not only thinking with your dick.

“Atta boy!” Soldier Boy pats his shoulder, “Now we don't want to keep the next diva waiting, do we?”

Your heart is pounding in your chest despite how hard you're trying to maintain your cocksure exterior.

Don't you fuck this up.

Jack's words trill in your head again and again. You close your eyes and huffs an elongated breath through your nostrils. He didn't come with you, but his agonising words never leave you, and the skeptical looks shot in your direction from Vought employees passing by don't make it any better.

What am I doing here?

You question yourself again.

To make history.

Jack's words ring again in your ears.

Although you're too immersed in your thoughts, you notice the blur of green and eagle of a man sauntering down in your way with a couple of men at the either of his side.

Your mask involuntarily slips on your face as your lips concoct a conceited grin that mirrors the cocky smirk on Soldier Boy's face. You stand up to say hello.

“We meet again, honey bun.”

“Pleasure to meet you again, sir.”

Your mustered aplomb starts to waver at the mere sight of him in that green suit; it makes you hold your breath. Soldier Boy himself is standing in front of you in his green glory with his gloved hand extended to you. He looks so different from the man you met yesterday. Maybe because of his supe suit. However, you're glad he isn't wearing the helmet, his revealed face brought some familiarity to the man you met before.

He leans in to press a kiss on your knuckles as you take his offered hand to shake.

“The pleasure is all mine, (Y/N).”

You resist the heat travelling up to your ears. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Ben.” He says in a somewhat ordering tone and you nod.

Soldier Boy introduces you to Legend and you shake the latter's hand too. The three of you make it to a nearby room to discuss business.

“I’d like to thank Soldier — Ben for giving me such an opportunity to perform by his side. I'm honoured, sir.” You start. “I’m gonna make sure it's worth your while.”

“You’ll sure do, dollface, you'll sure do.” He pours you and himself a glass of liquor, letting Legend pour his own glass which makes you raise a brow. It's still midday. You politely turn down the glass.

You and I are both aware that he isn't only after that pretty voice of yours. 

Jack's words ring in your ear. You can clearly picture his smirking face staring at you.

“I was at the wedding last night, y'know,” Legend lights up a cigar as he drawls, “And let me tell ya that recognising a talent when I see or hear it is what pays my bills.” He takes a drag and puffs it out of his nostrils.

You thank him before he asks you about your career, making it feel like it's a job interview or something of the sort. You tell him the story you tell everybody. That you've always had a knack for singing ever since you were a child. And you used to sing at school, then you continued your passion and sang in bars and clubs until Jack beheld one of your performances and took you under his wing ever since. Which it's true, sort of.

“Jack is a good teach, he taught me everything I know to entertain my audience.” Your eyes flit momentarily at Soldier Boy whose eyes never leave you, then you grin back at Legend, “Making him a lot much like you sir. He flushes out the talent when he sees it.”

Legend grins back, taking another waft of his cigar, “Has he ever had you perform for another media before?”

You shake your head, “No, sir, my audience is still limited.”

“Ah, perfect, what could be better than a talented new face,” Legend says, “Well, I think we're all in for a treat, sweetheart. Vought would be happy to introduce you to the public. A pretty new face with a beautiful voice, singing for the first time and next to Soldier Boy. I think that would give you a great privilege if you tipped your cards right…”

“And it can be more than a one-time thing…” Soldier Boy adds, a satisfied grin on his face, but you didn't miss the way Legend's lips twitch.

“Are you trying to employ me, sir?” You raise an eyebrow.

“We’re offering you a chance of a lifetime.” Legend takes another drag, which seems rather an elongated sigh than a normal puff, “Our entertainment business is always happy to make and nurture gifted new faces.”

You stay silent for a moment. This is big. Unbelievably big. You're literally being offered a job at Vought. It's something you wouldn't even dare dreaming about. Jack didn't tell you anything about this.

Don't you fuck it up. 

Jack's voice reverberates in the back of your head again.

“But I'm not a supe, sir, how come I'd be useful for the company?” You ask. “And what about Jack?”

You could've sworn you saw the slightest irritation in Soldier Boy's eyes.

“Do you see me with one, sweetheart?” Legend lets out an amused snore, “Yet, here I am.” He splays his arms open in showboat manner. “As for Jack, he'll still be your manager under our terms, of course, as agreed accordingly.”

Your eyebrows furrow. As agreed accordingly? Of course, you scoff internally. He's already sold you out to Vought the moment he sniffed the smell of cash. Well, you can't argue with that really; you owe the man your life. You're his, like her always tells you.

Despite everything being played out of your control, you still insist on having a say in this, or at least to seem so.

“Good,” You smile cordially, “Because I'd have humbly declined your offer hadn't Jack been kept in the picture.”

“Ever did any of blues shit before, dollface?”

You can detect the drastic change in Soldier Boy's tone.

“No, not as of yet.”

“Well, good thing you have someone's been long enough in the trade to teach you some of the ol’ tricks, darlin'.” His teeth bare in a shark like smile that doesn't set well in you.

Your heart paces up as adrenaline rushes through your veins, choosing to accept the challenge, “I’m down for it, Ben.”

🦅 Previous Chapter: Tenderly.

🦅 Next Chapter: Mirrors.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin, @demodemo909

@mystic-mara, @donniedarkolover, @pepsicolacoochie...

[barblaz-arts]

If you think what israel is doing is wrong tell me, what do you think they shouldve done after what happend on oct 7th? It seems like israel is the only country who isnt allowed to win a war.

You are asking the wrong person this question. Tf am I supposed to do? That's a question you should be asking Israel's President. Ask him why he refused to accept the hostages Hamas tried to return. Ask him why he's bombing the place where the hostages they claim to be fighting for are.

And it's almost laughable how you said that. "Allowed to win a war," you say. As if it were some kind of game to be won. As if the soldiers and civilians that die on both sides aren't being sacrificed while the people who have power sit in their lavish homes and reap the benefits of their blood. Israel's President and all its previous leaders failed their own people on Oct 7 by brutalizing the Palestinians for the past 70+ years. They created their own monster.

And I can't even call this a war. I just can't see it that way with the sheer power imbalance that is apparent. When one nation is able to cut off electricity and water of their opponent. When one can cut cables for telecommunication and destroy cell towers so that the other is not able to cry for help as they get massacred. When one is able to do carpet bombing while the other doesn't even have a military.

And if it were a war? Israel is waging it in the most inhumane ways. You're not supposed to prevent aid from going to the civilians. You're not supposed to shoot journalists so that nobody can know the horrors you've done. You're not supposed to bomb hospitals so that even those that rise from the rubble don't survive.

The Philippines, my country, was terrorized by many countries, but some of the most horrifying stories I heard were from the time of Japanese occupation. But even so, I have the heart to understand that those people in Hiroshima and Nagasaki who had nuclear bombs dropped on them did not deserve any of that. Because those were civilians. Because nobody deserves such atrocities.

Every pro-Israel rhetoric that I've been thrown with will always have the same answer. That nobody, absolutely nobody deserves genocide, and Israel is committing a crime against humanity. When this is pointed out they never have anything to say about it. Always skirting around, changing the subject to something that is still inconsequential in face of immorality. Because the real answer as to why they excuse this inhumanity is because they simply do not consider Palestinians and arabs human.

[luimagines]

👁️👄👁️

Think I’m reading that right that we can do three requests per person and I am really curious to see your take on Prince!Time and Prince!First please :) in a similar vein to the other prince imagines.

(Can you tell that’s my favourite of your work yet? ;))

Goodness- yes. After my own heart. And let's be real, they're kings.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Time

"Hello, my darling." A smooth baritone voice from behind was enough to send shivers down your spine.

You hoped your mask stayed in place. Otherwise the King of Kokiri would be able to see the sudden and obvious blush on your face. The masquerade ball he was hosting was lavish and delightful. Everyone was having a good time.

You cough to clear your throat and smile back in return. "How did you even know it was me?"

"Ah." King Link says your name. "An educated guess."

You bite your tongue, feeling your eyes go green with subtle envy. "So you greet all your guests in that manner?"

"When I'm about to ask someone of another, I fail to see why sweetening the delivery is considered uncouth." He responds easily, smirking slightly as bows towards you.

"...You have a request then, Your Majesty?" You have to keep your from smiling. The jerk is confident, handsome and suave and he knows it.

"Take a walk with me through the gardens." He holds out his hand towards you.

You're stunned. Surely this is beyond what's appropriate between a royal and a commoner. Your hesitance is palpable.

"Please?" He strains his voice slightly. His smile is tight as well.

Swallowing the spit in your mouth, you put your hand in his. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

"Quite fine." He says, almost flippantly. But his grip says otherwise.

Concerned, you allow him to guide through the party, out of the castle and into the extravagant garden. He finally stops in a gazebo, sitting down on a bench with a heavy sigh.

You stay standing. "Your Majesty?"

He looks up at you and smiles softly. "Sit with me."

"..."

He tugs at your hands.

"..."

King Link looks back up to you again with a pleading expression. "Please?"

You sit down. Awkwardly, but you sit.

You cough. "...Is this appropriate, King Link?"

"Do we need permission to take a break from the onslaught on the party goers on the inside?" He says tiredly. "....I have a headache."

Your heart sinks a bit. You would have thought that this was his way to relax but instead he seems more stressed than usual. You scoot a little closer to him. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just sit with me." He whispers, letting his head hang back. "I like your company."

You feel your tongue stick to the roof of your tongue and nod. There's very little you can do. He's the king. How are you going to tell him no? Not to mention that he seems to defeated. You've never seen the proud man look so agonized.

His arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. King Link whispers into your ear. "Have you been enjoying the party?"

Biting your lip, you nod again. "The decor is beautiful."

"Good." He smiles. "I was hoping you would."

"Oh?" The sound leaves you before you can stop it and his self satisfied smile grows wider.

"Yes. Because now we're here, together, and I get to have you on my side." He says with a growing smirk. "It would be better with you on my lap, but beggars cannot be choosers."

".....I beg your pardon?"

"I said what I said."

The King; begging to have you in his lap; what sort of dream world had you walked into?

First

You were trying to mind your own business in the kitchen, getting every set and ready for the main cooks for the lunch rush.

The solders were busy in the courtyard, bantering with each other and asserting dominance over one another for the heck of it. The king was among them somewhere. He was never far from his troops when there was an expedition like this.

The moments before departure were always frantic.

They had planned to go fight off Demise and last of his army. It was rumored that they could be anywhere from Death Mountain to Gerudo Dessert to the Wastelands. The world was already broken into smaller kingdoms as it was, not trusting their king to finish the job once and for all.

"The work isn't treating you too harshly, is it?" The man himself smirks as he enters the small kitchenette.

Your heart flutters just at the sight of him. His official attire was as regal as it was intimidating. This was a man with power and he knew it.

You drop your spoon and barely catch the curse that slips out of your mouth. "A thousand pardons, Your Grace."

"Nervous?" He chuckles, softly leaning his hip against the counter as he crosses his arms.

"This is the chance to change everything and unit the people once and for all." You say, rubbing your palms over your apron. "So much is riding on this."

"We will succeed." King Link leans over to you. A soft smile on his face. "Have a little faith in me. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Your Majesty." You blush with his close proximity. "It's the other side I find myself worrying about. They could be anywhere."

"And it's our job to find them and stop them." He says.

He kisses your cheek. "I will return. And we can focus on uniting our broken peoples. I just have to prove the critics wrong once and for all."

"By eliminating one the most evil forces known in the present world?" You whisper, stunned by his blatant affection towards someone of your lowly standard.

"That's the jist of it." King Link smiles and takes your hands in his, stopping them from their endless work. "Wait for me. Will you promise me that?"

You gulp. Without thinking, you squeeze his hands in return.

You don't speak King Link bite his lip in a rare expression of anxiety. "I will make things right. I promise you. Just wait for me."

"I will." You say softly. "I will wait for you."

He smiles and kisses your other cheek for good measure. "I like this color on you. It suits your eyes."

You look down in a futile attempt to hide your blush.

He chuckles and lets you go. "The troops will eat, then we depart."

"Be safe, Your Majesty." You find yourself bowing before him. "May the goddesses protect you."

[luveline]

jade i don't know if you're taking requests, this could be something super short if you want it to be! i am just dying to see rockstar!eddie and reader at a halloween party. i think he'd look so dreamy

rockstar eddie forever <3 fem, 1k

cw friendly use of the word harlot, rough kisses mdni

"Nice costume." 

You pick your head up where you've draped yourself across the pouffe and smile when you realise who it is. "Thanks, Munson. Yours is better. Super brave." 

"Fuck off." Eddie, very much not in costume, puts a knee between your thighs and bends over the pouffe and your splayed body, careful not to drive the stake in deeper. "Superglue?" he asks, hitting the stake in your chest lightly before putting his hands behind your head like a net to lift you up. "Come on, you'll give yourself a migraine." 

"My hero," you croon, sitting up at his insistence. "I have fake blood in my bag, if you want to be my slayer. Or I can just give you a hickey." 

"I'm good, sweetheart. Vampire wasn't outlandish enough for you?" 

"You know I don't stop at what's already been done." 

He snorts and drops your hands, not without kindness. "Where have you been?" your bandmate asks, the curls of his hair dark like oil slick in the red lighting. His pale skin is blushed with blood. 

"Around. Waiting for the hiatus to be well and truly over." 

"Well, you got your wish." He bends down to kiss your cheek. "Missed you, babe. Had a nice vacation?" 

"I did! Saw the 'rents, saw the world." 

"Don't tell me you stayed here?" he asks, gesturing to the walls of Jamison's lavish house with disgust. "The point was to get away from each other." 

"I like his company." 

"You let him fuck your brains out," Eddie corrects. 

"Come on, Edward, you know I only have eyes for you." You bring his hand to your lips and kiss the bone of his wrist, leaving behind a dark lipstick print and a more syrupy splodge of fake blood. "Your refusal to commit the sin of interband relationships is bumming me out." 

"Well, we can't have that," he says, knee again between your thighs, unafraid to rough you up a little as his hands get acquainted with the slopes of your cheeks, pressing your skin back to get an unfettered look at your blood-splattered face. "Once I kiss you, that's it. Not turning back." 

You beam. "Holy shit," you say, breathless, chest heaving in your tight corset and eyes like hearts as he smirks at you. "I don't wanna turn back." 

"You really didn't fuck Jamison?" he asks, eyes heady as they pour into yours. It's hard to distinguish the irises of his eyes from his pupils, the dark of them like dimes in the red-light. 

Eddie has a talent for removing the rest of the room. Whenever you're together, on stage, behind a camera, you have eyes for him and only him, and he's known that for a while. This will they won't they flirting has been a fun pregame but you're ready for the climax, the culmination, the bite of his rings digging in as he bites your lip. Your breath hitches as you think it, giving a wordless nod. "Of course I didn't fuck Jamison," you say, fighting to keep your voice smooth, soft. 

"I know," he says, leaning down. 

The wood of your stake aches between your sternum as his chest hits it, digging in, the kiss of a new bruise as his lips inch closer and closer. You can't close your eyes; you don't believe him. He won't really kiss you. 

"What?" he asks, blinking at your still-open eyes in milk confusion. "Don't want me to?" 

"You're stabbing my heart." 

Eddie rolls his eyes, yanking the stake off of your corset with a cropped ripping sound. "You're always so dramatic." 

"There's gonna be a real bruise there, I'll show you–" 

You lose your sentence as he kisses you. You truly aren't expecting it. Here, now? At some lame party in the Hills, where the biggest celebrities are literally him and the lesser known members of Cat's Club? You always thought Eddie would kiss you on stage in a throw of passion, or slammed up against a wall, a tour bus, a hotel bathroom door. This kiss is tame in comparison, though his knee juts between your legs and the grip he has on your face is as biting as you imagined, lines of rings embedding themselves in your soft cheeks, his lips stickied by the glucose blood and your wet lipstick. You grab a handful of his curls and there, as you've always imagined, is the scratch of his teeth as he pulls the flesh of your top lip between them and pulls. 

You're startled as he kisses it better. Dizzied as he sighs into your lips, a sound that feels like praise. You give into the pressure of his kiss and let your lips part under his, heat like nothing you've ever felt passed between you. His nose digs into yours, the bridge sliding hard as he turns his head this way and that, like he's trying to kiss you dumb. 

"Is it the costume?" you ask as he pulls away for breath, wide-eyed, startled and wanting and needing him closer. 

He tugs at your corset strings teasingly. "It's fucking everything. We were on a hiatus for two weeks and the whole time I'm wishing I kissed you before I left. You're gonna let me do it again, right?" 

"Uh, duh." 

Eddie practically rags you up off of the pouffe to the couch just behind it, "Think we can make everybody else leave?" 

"No–" He cuts you off again with a kiss, two rough kisses, a third, hands at your waist and pressing into you hard, lips pressing harder as he wades in, a laugh humming between your lips. White hot delight and the stupid delirium of giving in, no more than four kisses before he's being pulled off of you by the collar. 

"We have one fucking rule," Jeff says, Jamison with a handful of Eddie's shirt at his side having broken through the partygoers. 

You smile lazily and lay back in the couch cushions, a picture of ardency, fake blood smeared by kisses across your face and up one cheek, your corset ripped.

"Fucking look at her, man, what was I supposed to do? I'm but a mere human," Eddie says. He's whining, but he's grinning at you like he usually does when you conspire against the others, like you're his very favourite person on earth. "Fuck. Let me at 'er." 

You laugh more at his ridiculous overplay. Gareth stomps on his foot as Jamison chucks a pillow at your chest. 

"Harlot. You're a fucking siren." 

"I really don't get why you're all so mad," you say, delighted at finally having gotten what you wanted. 

Eddie winks at you. "Jealousy, babe. S'all it is. Jamie, man, unhand me. Me and Y/N have unfinished business. She has a bruise she wants to show me." 

"I'm sure she does. Idiots." 

[poppy-metal]

i wanna have a messy ass break up with college patrick, like be so off and on and off and on, and one day after your latest break up that got particularly loud and messy you get so sick of him you just want to hurt him. so you track down art in the cafeteria. you pull him away from his friends and say into his ear “me and patrick are over, for real this time. let’s go to your dorm and you can fuck me right now.” whether you’re really over or not, art couldn’t care less. he nods gormlessly and you drag him by his wrist up to his the dorm he shares with patrick and you fuck the everloving shit out of art all over their room. you’re so aggressive with everything but he fucking eats it up, matches your energy and doubles it until it looks more like cannibalism than intercourse. you kiss with teeth, you throat his dick so far you make yourself splutter and choke and then you go back in for more, he eats your pussy so nasty that he has to use all his upper body strength to keep you from twitching away from from him. you tell him “hurt me,” words you never said to patrick. you take a secret pleasure in giving art privileges in one day that patrick never got over the months you were together. you give them to art so freely because he would never ask, would never think to hurt you, which makes you want it all the more. but maybe the pleasure isn’t so secret, because art knows everything about your sex life with patrick. everything. he knows you were never so wild with patrick. so he takes secret pleasure in defiling you in ways patrick could only wank about. you fuck until the room stinks and the duvet cover has come off and the sheets pinged off the corner of the bed and your hair is a birds nest and you leave with a limp because he fucked you so good. he wanted it for so long and the second you gave it to him he didn’t know how to act, didn’t know what the word restraint even meant. patrick’s gonna be pissed. who gives a fuck

oh shit.

i imagine you only dig the knife this deep because patrick said some truly unforgivable shit - provoked by your own nasty remarks but still, he knew about your insecurities, knew it and still said "you think you have anything i cant get from some other tight pussied freshman?" he'd said it to wound and it had. cut so deep, deeper than anything he'd ever said before, the need to lash out, to hurt the way he'd hurt you was too strong.

its not like his dynamic with art isn't easy to prey on either. you've seen the way art looks at you. you've talked about it with patrick, even giggled about it, used it in foreplay with him - because unlike you, the thrill of a little competition got him hard as a fucking rock. but he would never be okay with you actually doing it, of art one upping him without his say so or input. and art was practically dying for an excuse to betray patrick. to stab him in the back and knock him down a peg. his resentment towards patrick was obvious to you - as prominent as his desire for you was.

so yeah, its easy to seduce him. and the thing is, art knows hes being used. he knows you know how he feels about you - and he knows you're doing this for revenge. he knows somehow, in a fucked up way, hes still not your first chocie, patrick is. so he fucks you like he hates you - and he lavishes in how that makes your pussy strangle his cock. he takes what he can get and he makes the most of it, hes going to imprint himself into your memory. going to dig his nails into your skin and leave marks, bite so hard the imprint of his teeth lingers, reshape your cunt to the mold of his dick - his name spilling from your lips. his cum dripping from your well used cunt. "tell me you love this. tell me you want me to cum inside you - tell me."

you tell him all sorts of things. its easy to get you babbling with a cock inside you, is the thing. you tell him you've always wanted him, you tell him you'll be with him after this, that you want him, more than patrick, and maybe you mean some of it, maybe you dont. its hard to tell. you leave him when he falls asleep.

you dont stay around to watch the fallout happen. you leave with the satisfaction of a good fuck, a life altering one, and the bitter sting of knowing you cant come back from this. that the hatred you've sewn from this act will be too deep, that art and patrick will never be the same, and neither will you.

you dont know if you want patrick to confront you. you dont know if you want him to hate you and get in your face for this or if you wanted this to sever any and all ties with him, finally. and you dont know if you feel bad for lying to art, feeding him lies so he'd fuck you harder, painting a pretty picture for him - maybe you wanted to hurt him too, as an extension of patrick. maybe you just got a little too drunk on power. on the notion you were important enough to ruin a lifelong friendship.

patrick could fuck whoever he wanted, but he'd never find a girl who'd fuck up his life like you had. and that made you smile.

[ticklystuff]

Day 14: High

a/n: ler!cyno, lee!tighnari — from the lovelytickletober list!

—��—

It was supposed to be a brownie.

It should've been a brownie.

But it wasn't just a brownie, as Cyno was now realizing, his body sprawled out uselessly on the bed, limbs heavy where they lay. Each arm and leg were akin to tree trunks, hardly working physical appendages that took the greatest amount of effort to shift even an inch. He curled his fingers and wiggled his toes, as if to ensure that his limbs were indeed still functioning pieces of his body.

"You good?"

The sound of the other voice triggered a delayed reaction and Cyno found himself lolling his head to meet the source, the effort involved equivalent to rolling a boulder along a rocky path. Sitting beside him at the edge of a bed was a foxian that he was sure he met before.... Wait, yes, this was the one that helped him into this very bed.. What was his name again?

The fox tilted his head inquisitively, his dark green hair swaying with his movements. "This is your first time, isn't it?"

Cyno blinked in response, processing the question in pieces. "First time?" God, his eyes felt so dry.

"You know, like," the fox moved his hands as he explained, "you've never had an edible before? Those brownies weren't just brownies, you know?"

Ah, so Cyno was correct.. those were definitely not just brownies.

"I don't know, you can always tell when someone's never been high before," the fox rambled on. "You were way out of it when I saw you."

And he was right; in fact, Cyno had never been to party till tonight. There was no reason for him to do so, of course, as he preferred spending his off-time from studying at home, or playing boardgames with friends, but curiosity had taken hold of him and just this once, he allowed himself to take the invite. And when someone brought out the brownies, well.. he couldn't help himself to what he thought was just ordinary party snacks.

"It's okay, though," the fox continued, "everyone reacts differently. How are you feeling?"

In all honesty, Cyno could feel everything. Not just the fibers of the blanket surrounding his body, but even his own thoughts passing his brain, the gentle drizzle of rain outside, as if it were personally falling over his own body, the sounds of people's chatter outside the room seemingly close, or the warm air permeating his skin, lifting a fuzzy feeling through his body.

His head lolled back to the fox and breathed a heavy sigh. "I feel.. nice."

"Good, good," the fox nodded. "Would you like me to keep you company, or would you prefer I step out?"

And as the fox spoke, something in particular caught Cyno's eyes. The way they flopped around, twitching in place, there was something just endearing about the fox's ears. They looked so soft....

"Sorry, I have a request," Cyno spoke dryly, unsure of what he was thinking just now.

"Oh, hm?" his ears perked up, drawing Cyno's attention back to them. "Did you need water? Or maybe some food? I can grab you something."

"No, no," Cyno mumbled slowly, his brain leaping for it, "can I.. pet your ears?"

The fox looked taken aback, as if Cyno offended him in the worst way. "W-What?"

"You don't have to," Cyno yawned, stretching his limbs, before flopping back down.

"You know, you can't just go around asking people stuff like that."

"Oh."

"But," the fox sighed, folding his arms as he paused, "fine, fine, go ahead."

Cyno smiled the biggest dopey smile as the fox reluctantly granted his wish, reaching a heavy limb out as the other lowered his head just within arms reach. And, oh, maybe it was the drugs, he couldn't tell, but his assumptions were confirmed true, feeling the fine fur under his fingers. He started to wonder if they were even real, as they could be described as soft velvet, lavish to the touch that felt exquisite under his hand."

"H-Hey, be careful!" the fox stifled his words, clearly holding something back, doing his best not too wiggle too much. "I-It tihihickles!"

And Cyno, he couldn't help himself. Not only was the feeling of the smooth fur stimulating to his brain, but the fox's laughter added to this. It carried a pleasant tone, breathy laughter filling the room that was music to Cyno's ears, hitting all the right notes. With one final pat, Cyno withdrew his hand, giving the floppy ears and their owner a break.

"Satisfied?" the fox grumbled, rubbing his ears with the tips of his fingers.

"Yeah," Cyno nodded contently, relaxing back into the mattress with a small grin crossing his face.

"Well, I'm going to go grab you some water," the fox stood up, "but I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," Cyno nodded to his words, eyes heavy, but still fixated on those ears. "Uhm, what was your name again?"

The other turned back to him, tilting his head. "It's Tighnari and you're Cyno, yeah?"

"I already told you?"

"Yeah," Tighnari scoffed, "and I already told you too."

"Oh," Cyno yawned, his eyes blinking drowsily. "Nice to meet you.. Tighnari."

"Nice to meet you too."

[wanderingelvis]

Hi, So can you do one with innocent reader where like she meets the mafia for the first time and they ask her sexual questions but she like wtf.

I love this!! I love interactions with the Mafia! Thank you for the request, enjoy! 🧚🏻

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

word count: 1,448

pairing: elvis x female!reader

warnings: mention of religion and sex

You were spending time in Elvis' lavish hotel suite with Elvis and the Mafia as you all took a break from the constant and relentless routine of shows. You'd just joined them all on the road as a backing singer and Elvis had taken an instant liking to you. You were docile and compliant, happy to do whatever he, or anyone else, wanted. He loved that he could mold you into whatever he wanted without taking away from your bubbly little personality.

You liked Elvis too, he never really pushed your limits like your singing coach would or some of the executives on the tour would. He was a safe haven. However, the same couldn't really be said for his entourage, the Memphis Mafia. It's not that you didn't like them, you just figured they didn't like you. You were quiet, reserved and shy and they were all the entire opposite of that. 

They hadn't really bothered to interact with you much either, they would barely even glance your way usually. Little did you know that they knew better than to speak to you. You were Elvis' little girl only.

Right now, you were busy telling Elvis all about how excited you were at the prospect of performing at a local carnival show, that it might be your biggest audience yet and that you were nervous but eager to do it.

"Pretty girl like you is gonna have all the boys and men flocking to you after that little show you give 'em. But I bet you're already used to that." Elvis mused, brushing away a curl of hair that had fallen in front of you face.

"Well, no actually." You said, oblivious the eyes staring down at her from one of the most famous men in the world, as well as his entourage.

"No?"

"No boy back home would even wanna come near me, they were all scared of my Momma," You softly giggled, remembering all the times your mother would practically bark at a boy that even looked in you direction. It had always been embarrassing and you were still terrified of crossing your mother.

"Wait, hang on a minute," A voice interrupted, you followed the sound and you were met with Sonny West, who was sitting on the couch opposite you, drinking whisky and smoking his cigar, listening in on the tales you were telling Elvis.

"So you've never...?" Sonny interrupted, taking a sip of his drink. You shook your head, sitting upright on the plush couch as Elvis walked over to the drinks table to pour himself and you a drink. "You're telling me, you've never even taken a mans fingers?" He said, clearly overstepping, but you were just a little confused.

You looked over to Elvis who was just watching the interaction play out, and gave you a reassuring nod. He knew that Sonny was prone to a drink or two and could get out of hand.

"Um... no, um, I don't think so." You said quietly.

"Fuck, tell me you've at least had your first kiss." Sonny said, cracking up at the idea of your lack of sexual history. You politely and sweetly stayed quiet, just shaking your head a little. Sonny's eyes widened when he realised you were being serious, laughing even more. When you looked over at Elvis, his eyes were dark and intense, trained just on you.

"Sonny." Elvis said sharply, but it went over Sonny's head. Elvis could see you were uncomfortable and he knew Sonny was being an ass.

"EP, c'mon!" Sonny said, before turning back to you. "You must be pretty glad you're in the Hollywood scene now then, eh kid? You'll get a guy and everything that comes with it with a bat of an eyelash." Sonny chuckled.

"M'not a prude, I just wanna save it all for when I'm married, I want it to be real special. My best friend, Patty, she's done it all and that's okay, I ain't gonna judge none," You insisted, you knew how liberal and carefree Hollywood was, you knew that you were surrounded by different lifestyles, you just didn't want anyone to think that you thought less of them for it, because you didn't. Sonny let out a booming laugh, causing everyone's heads to turn to him and your cheeks to flush, worried you'd said the wrong thing.

"Waiting until marriage? Honey, that's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time, you're not eighty years old sweetheart." He patronised, chuckling to himself. You chewed on her lip a little, feeling a little stupid. "It's just what, um, m-my pastor says God wants." You said softly, crossing your arms to cover your chest a little, feeling insecure. You didn't really like all of the 'Mafia', you knew Jerry was nice and you could see why he was Elvis' favourite, but Sonny and Red weren't as friendly.

Sonny slapped his thigh as he burst into more laughter. "I thought this generation were supposed to be all loving, what happened huh? God?! It's like my mother's here." He chuckled. "Woah now, if Y/N wants to wait for marriage, she ain't gotta justify it to you Sonny. Really, it ain't got a goddamn thing to do with you does it, Son?" Elvis said, almost menacingly, to his friend. "Why don't you go find somebody else to berate rather than picking on the little girl huh? Goes for all of you, get outta here." Elvis said, nodding at the door before sending you a wink, making a smile creep onto your face before you felt your cheeks get hot. Sonny's cheeks also flushed, embarrassed at being scolded by the Boss, but none of the Mafia wasted any time in getting out of the dressing room, leaving you and Elvis alone. "Sorry about Sonny, he likes to think his goddamn opinion is more important than it actually is." Elvis said gently, sitting back down next to his sweet girl, who was still sitting firmly upright, not relaxed in the slightest. You looked up at Elvis with confusion on your face and a furrowed brow, which Elvis thought was the cutest thing he ever did see. "D'ya think I'm silly?" You asked softly, worrying that maybe your admission might make Elvis think differently about you.

"I think you'd be silly if you rushed yourself and made yourself unhappy." Elvis comforted, making your shoulders stop tensing. You shot him a quick nervous smile.

"Just want it t'feel right." You mumbled, picking at your fingers.

"I know, I won't let them upset you again little one." Elvis promised, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly to give you a cuddle, the type of cuddle you loved having with Elvis.

You felt so comforted and looked after by Elvis, he could be surrounded by anyone and yet he'd ask one of the Mafia to find you because that's who he wanted. You weren't sure yet as to why, but you never complained, you loved being in his company.

As your mind wandered, thinking about all the ways that Elvis made you feel good, your eyes widened with an idea.

"Elvis?" You asked as he hummed in response. "Would you give me my first kiss now?" You asked shyly, nerves flooding your little body as you peered up at him to gauge his reaction.

Elvis studied your face before shaking his head. "Baby, you're not ready, you know that, don't ya?" Elvis cooed.

"I just-"

"I know sweetheart. But you're not ready for all of that, you're just lettin' Sonny's words get to ya." Elvis assured softly.

"I know." You said, feeling a little embarrassed and defeated, even if you knew that Elvis was right, he always knew what was best for you, better than you did at this point.

Elvis watched you and all he wanted to do was kiss you, rip your babydoll dress off you and fuck you senseless. He'd imagined it more times than he'd like to admit and he couldn't wait for the day that he'd finally be kissing your soft skin all over. He knew that that day would come, but he knew it would only live up to his expectations if you were ready, and he knew you weren't.

"How's about I make you a deal then, baby?" Elvis suggested, gently tilting your chin up so that you would be looking at him. "How's about, when you're absolutely sure you're ready, you come find me, and I'll give ya a kiss?" Elvis proposed.

You giggled a little at the idea, but you liked it. You didn't feel pressured, only looked after.

"'Kay." You said gently, another giggle leaving your lips.

The pair of you smiled at each other, each letting out little laughs and enjoying each others company as Elvis decided to count the days until he got his kiss.

[delta-lethonomia]

ok depresso week is over, back to deliberate hyperfixation on bg3:

It is absolutely wild to me that people take Astarion to the foursome with the drow twins (romanced, spawn, post-cazador) and are shocked, shocked I tell you, that he has a bad time. But it leads me to think that there's an interesting conversation to be had here about morality applied to video games. I'm going to be using what's a bit of a strawman tbh, what I would consider an archetypical, "good person" gamer for this niche example.

(3k essay under the cut about irl morals vs video game behavior, my take on why Astarion agrees to the orgy, beating the dead horse of Astarion discourse now that the fandom has cooled off enough I might not get flogged for it, and all my election stress being translated into an increasingly bitchy narrative voice that I hope is at least mildly amusing.)

"Good Person Gamer" romances Astarion. They're probably female, which I am mentioning exclusively so I can turn that into "Good Girl Gamer" 😏, or G3. G3 picks nice dialogue options. G3 tries to support their companions, and finds diplomatic and moral solutions to problems. G3 saved the tieflings. G3 still romances Astarion because he's hot, and vulnerable, and it's not like he forces you to be evil - he just complains a bit when you save kittens stuck in trees, but you get that approval back anyway just by being nice to him. Talk him out of Ascension and you've proven to yourself he's got a good soul under all that attitude anyway. He'd healed! You banged on his grave! It's all good now!

The brothel is fun. The drow twins are hot. It's always fun when games lets you do spicy things like have threesomes and orgies! We're sex-positive! Look, the drow twins said they love their job! It's totally fine! G3, as most people, probably does not do these things in real life, but that's the fun in video games: you get to be someone you're not.

And then Astarion noticeably dissociates. He throws himself in the center and lavishes everyone with attention; he's a professional, you know. Even an unromanced Tav/Durge notices something's off, and Astarion replies something along the lines of "you don't have the right to look at me like that," presumably with worry, distress, or sympathy.

G3 is upset. They did everything right - they didn't want to hurt him, and Astarion himself said he wanted this. Why couldn't they stop midway through and remind him that he doesn't have to hurt himself? Why couldn't they talk about it afterwards, and clear the air? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HURT ME

Now, to all the G3's out there: if you were dating a person with extensive sexual trauma, having been raped literally thousands of times, would you suggest having a threesome/orgy? With prostitutes, if that's better or worse? Putting them on the spot before your mutual friends? Would you wait a few years to mention the idea, or would you do so only weeks/months into a relationship? Your first "I love you" might have only been yesterday.

And most people, I think, would say "No." Writing that scenario outside of the lens of a video game makes it sound insane - of course you wouldn't! I'm not saying that they should never have group sex or that it can't be done, but I think most people instinctively get how that would be a shitty thing to do in that context, especially without discussing it in depth beforehand and making sure you're both on the same page.

And this is the meat of the issue. Most gamers play good-aligned characters: there's a strong culture of wanting to play the hero and saving the day. But tied into that cultural monomyth, in society itself, is the idea that sex is a reward at the end. You get sex at the end of the romance arc. The date where you have sex is one of many milestones, and you're not really dating if you haven't done it yet. Some people don't have sex until their wedding night. Threesome scenes especially are a video game classic: old-school God of War, for instance, had a hidden room in every game with scantily-clad women just waiting for you to button-mash away, a little treat for the player's keen puzzle-solving abilities.

Not all romances in BG3 have sex or end with sex, (some even start with sex), but that is because BG3's character writing tries to ground itself in reality despite being a medium people utilize for fantasy. Role-playing a "good" character is mostly easy: you typically know which dialogue choice is the ethical choice, can chide Astarion for being racist, can save the numerous children with moral ease - and BG3 rewards this: a good playthrough is more fleshed out, because you haven't killed off half the cast. You get better gear. You have more allies, better allies. You know what to do.

Or, well, mostly. BG3 is kind of special imo because even the good choices have a lot of nuance, where two people can make different choices but still feel like they both picked the most ethical one. Take Shadowheart's parents, for example: they beg for her to let them go so they can die and save their daughter. Saving them leaves Shadowheart in Shar's clutches - she will experience pain for the rest of her life, but regains her parents, and with luck, Selûne will claim her soul when she dies. Kill them, and Shadowheart is free - truly free, to live her life on her own terms, free from Shar and Selûne both. Both can be the ethical choice, depending on your morals.

"But if Astarion didn't want to have the threesome, the game should have let me stop midway through/made it clearer that this would happen. He said no before Cazador - why couldn't he say no again? Why would Larian put me in this position and make me feel bad when I thought everything was alright? I wanted to be good and have fun, not feel like I pressured my boyfriend." - Strawman G3.

Because BG3 treats it's characters like people. Multiple companions make choices outside of what the player character decides for them - Shadowheart's decision to save or kill her parents, kill or save the Nightsong, or Gale, to go for the crown or not depend on what events they are there to witness personally, or can be informed by conversations you have in camp about unrelated issues. You can fully let them make their own decisions and be surprised each time as they develop into different people with each successive playthrough. A lot of people are surprised when Gale goes for the Crown of Karsus without their input. In my last multiplayer playthrough, we could not prevent Shadowheart from wanting to kill the Nightsong, and so we were forced to kill her.

Astarion is not like that. The way he talks about Ascension changes depending on your relationship. If you're merely friends, he acknowledges it's probably a bad idea, even, in direct contrast to the somewhat obsessive and frightening way he pursues it in a romantic relationship. But Astarion can't decide what to do at the end: he has no hidden point system, no hidden flags - he will always pursue Ascension even if he knows it's a bad idea, because Astarion does not trust himself, has no experience trusting himself, and needs help. As counter-intuitive as it may sound, he needs support to make his own decisions, because in that moment, he cannot be objective.

(If Astarion is ever objective is another story....)

So much of Astarion's reactions and opinions are instinctive and unthinking. "Don't let the pixie out of the lantern, are you an idiot?" -> "A pixie! And honest-to-goodness pixie! *giggles*"

"We don't need a urchin hanging around." -> Astarion approves if you help Yenna

etc. etc. etc. There's so many times he says one thing, the cruel thing, the "fuck everyone else, I've got mine"-thing, and then approves when you do the good thing. Astarion does not live in line with his values (besides pursuing a growing need for freedom) and he frankly does not really know what his values even are.

Astarion doesn't react with glee to finding all the people he seduced - who inadvertently raped him, though they didn't know, some lowlifes and scoundrels and people having a bad day and even some sweet, naive virgins like Sebastian, who took that smoking hot Elf on his word and followed him home, probably in disbelief someone so gorgeous would pay them any attention at all - tortured and locked in a dungeon underground. He's crushed by guilt. He's in pain. Astarion delights in you causing others pain (the torture scene) because it aligns with his worldview, the joy of seeing someone else suffer for once. But he's not a cold-hearted murderer. (And yes, I am differentiating between "adventurer kills a bandit" murder and "deliberately killing someone you know for reasons/no reason" murder.) He doesn't hurt anyone in camp - Shadowheart and Lae'zel are far more dangerous than him. You never have to stop him from drinking anyone else to death. Even if you never feed him again, never use his bite attack, he never bites anyone in camp. Despite being a vampire, Astarion is, effectively, harmless. (Bite night was about checking whether or not Cazador's old command's still worked. It's his first real attempt at freedom, proving to himself that he's free from compulsion. Hence why the roll to get him to stop is a 5, giving you a 75% likelihood of succeeding. He doesn't actually want to kill you. And you get two chances!!!)

Astarion doesn't enjoy death for the sake of death. He's terrified if you side with the goblins and kill the tieflings despite goading you into doing it. I don't doubt that he could hurt others (god knows he's got enough feelings to work out that way), but there's a significant difference between a little knife play and condemning thousands of people to be tortured in the Hells for all eternity. Sacrificing his siblings is different, because they, like him, are guilty, and deserve their deaths. He agrees to sacrifice his fellow spawn as an act of self hatred, of self harm. But all those other people stupid enough to want to sleep with him? Given a day to think about it, I think Astarion would agree that that's not right - and that's why he thanks you for preventing his Ascension. That much murder isn't him. He can be thoughtless, cruel, and unkind, but Astarion isn't a psychopath.

Take him to the brothel, and slipping back into that role, the seductive rake, it as easy as breathing. I don't think Astarion has ever thought about if he's the type of person to enjoy group sex, or even if he wants it. I don't doubt that Astarion enjoys sex, that he wants to have sex (he is, after all that, still shockingly horny), but he's just discovered the idea of having sex with someone he loves. He's riding that high. Of course he says yes: not only is he a different man now (he's free!), it's something he's done a thousand times already - maybe it'll be different this time, maybe something has changed - or maybe, an orgy was on offer, so of course Astarion is there. It's his purpose. He's been doing it for 200 years. Where else would he be?

What I'm saying is that Astarion didn't think about what sleeping with the drow twins meant for your relationship, or how he would feel about it at all. He just went for it. He had a bad time. You then don't discuss it because that would mean admitting that he finally made a choice by himself and it backfired. He didn't think, or maybe he did, and it turns out he just doesn't know himself. Why discuss it? A relationship with G3 apparently means group sex. They probably asked twice. They backtracked all the way to Wyrm's Crossing post-Cazador. Will they ask again? How many times can he say no?

In reality, in the real world, the act of asking can be the problem in and of itself. If your significant other/spouse/lover asks you to do something you don't want to do, be it a threesome, anal, opening the relationship etc, these actions have consequences. The act of asking doesn't happen in a vacuum like it does in video games: there is a cost associated with it, a gamble, and while it may pay off, it may not. Some people get worn down and agree to things they don't want to do. Sometimes you break up because the act of asking is so inherently disrespectful you can't reconcile your differing wants and needs. If you're dating someone who has experienced the gut-wrenching pain of being cheated on, you don't ask 2 months into a new relationship if you can fuck other people. This should not come as a surprise to you, to G3, to anyone. It's common sense.

BG3 giving you the opportunity for a foursome with Astarion not only to give the player their hot'n'spicy sex scene (then playfully bops you on the nose by making it a fade-to-black, you naughty little perverts, you), but also to continue its theme of treating the player like a mature adult, who is dealing with other mature adults, and who can and should live with the consequences of their own actions. Subsequent patches have watered this down, I admit, but I do believe that that was the ethos guiding their work from the beginning. BG3 wants you to interact with the characters like people. If you roll over and tell them what they want to hear, you will Ascend Astarion, and he'll enslave you in turn. If you agree with Gale on everything, he will kill himself and you - or, he'll become a god, becoming the exact sort of god he used to rail against. Agree with Karlach, and she will rather die than go back to the Hells. You get my point.

"But Larian could have let me check in on Astarion midway through. Maybe it was a mistake to ask, but they should have let me check on him and stop it all if he wanted. I was trying to trust him to make his own decisions." - Strawman G3

Ok. We add a dialogue option. "Astarion, love, are you alright? We can stop at any time if you want."

Astarion disapproves (-5)

He's not backing out. Thank you for asking, darling, but fuck off. (I don't think he'd actually say fuck off but the implicit message would be there. I can't see Astarion stopping midway through, nor appreciating you doubting him. Nothing changes.)

"But I still feel bad." - Strawman G3

And I completely understand that. It's a video game. Don't worry! Of course you should get your sex scene - it's a reward! You got their approval high enough! You have enough charisma points! In DA:O, you can also have an orgy, unlocked by giving your companions enough gifts! It's a game! You have enough points, you get the thing!!! You killed Cazador - you win! Have your cake and eat it too! Congrats, you unlocked your hot slutty vampire elf who's basically a trained courtesan, who needs you to be his moral compass, who will never leave you so long as you don't actively rape him - enjoy all the fun orgies in your future!

Your actual choice - the choice the game gives you - is to realize that taking what's essentially a human trafficking victim to a brothel is a dumb idea, but they didn't want to punish you for it.

"Well, Astarion should have said something then. He said no before, he can say no again." - Strawman G3

If you go through life pushing peoples boundaries and expect them to verbally tell you what you're doing wrong, you're gonna be friendless and have a bad time. This ties back to both Astarion having difficulty knowing and defending his own values, BG3 trying to let you make your own decisions without setting out a clear "good or bad" path on occasion, and the hope that you'd use your own morals to make decisions. G3 would never behave in this way irl, and that's where the shock comes from, the guilt from committing an action they thought was without consequence in a risk-free fantasy scenario, and then feeling unpleasantly surprised when called out.

But it's a video game, and you didn't get the little zap, the little sting of an Astarion disapproves in the corner that told you you made the wrong choice. In fact, because he doesn't disapprove, it's not actually the wrong choice!

It really was mean how the Narrator made G3 feel bad, wasn't it. They didn't mean to hurt him. Astarion doesn't mention it, so it's probably fine.

... have you talked to Halsin yet? Surely he had a good time. Right?

CONCLUSION

People think they're good and moral and will typically behave "heroically" in video games. Games support this and reward players for doing so. The "good path" is expected to be clear. However, video games are not real life no matter how much they play at immersion, and multiple games have trained players in a linear "do x, receive y" type fashion. Sex is a reward in games, and is treated that way in real life as well, so players expect the Sharess' orgy scene to be a reward, and are then shocked when Astarion/Gale/Halsin etc reveal during or afterwards that they had a bad time. This is because Larian wants you to treat BG3 like a role playing game and interact with it seriously, and isn't afraid to boop you for your actions in ways that mimic real life relationships. This ethical dissonance makes people uncomfortable especially when they play games to role-play as someone better than themselves, and are surprised when they aren't herded down predetermined "good" paths via instantaneous approval/disapproval mechanics or unlockable "ideal" dialogue.

It is absolutely possible that someday Astarion might be into meaningless group sex with prostitutes for fun and pleasure. However, that is the sort of thing you'd probably either wait for him to bring up by himself organically, or discuss in a long-term trusting relationship after he's had potentially years to process the idea of not immediately hopping into bed with someone, as well as disentangling his instinctive "beaten-in" sexually available behavior from his actual desires. People much more emotionally mature and undamaged than Astarion have destroyed their own relationships by inadvertently pushing a partner (or themselves) into various forms of group sex or other sexual acts. It's not something you do on a random Tuesday on a whim.

Or maybe it is, and I'm just chronically boring and surrounded by boring people lmao

TO THE POSTER THAT INSPIRED THIS: I'm so so sorry if you ever see this, not trying to call you out at all hence no linking, I just wanted to pick apart why I think you felt that way. The thoughts just finally bubbled over after a year+ lol

[bumblesimagines]

You never cared this much before. Why now?"

"I thought rivalry was our thing. Now it's turned into something... else?"

- Carla Rosón

You never cared this much before. Why now?"

"I thought rivalry was our thing. Now it's turned into something... else?"

pronouns: they/them, gender neutral

Cayetana hadn't been at all what you were expecting. Despite the photos she posted on her social media and all the boasting about her lavish vacations, one drink made her loosen up and ramble about her interests in fashion. You could barely keep up with her chatter, being rendered to confused nods and hums of acknowledgement.

Too enveloped in her own little world, she seemed to barely notice how she leaned against your side while scrolling through her phone and showing you different pictures. Your lips tugged into a small smile at her excitement but before you could even begin to try to make sense of her incoherent words, a purse dropped amongst the cups on the table and your head rose to look up at the other blonde.

"Move."

"Uhm.." Cayetana's gaze flickered between you and the infamous ice queen, slowly dragging herself away your side and standing up. A sling of nervous babbles left her but she quickly clamped her mouth shut and turned away, slipping into the crowd of clubgoers.

"Carlita," You cooed and leaned back in the booth, propping your arm up and raising a brow at her. "That was rude."

"You don't care whether or not I hurt her feelings. Stop acting like you give a shit about anyone but yourself." Carla said, smoothing the back of her dress as she lowered herself down beside you.

You whistled lowly and chuckled "Damn, what's got you in a mood today? Was it little Caye? Lu's not replacing you with her, though I wouldn't blame her if she did. She's pretty cute, huh? Real sweet and nice."

"Stop flirting with her."

"You're in no position to make demands, Carlita." Satisfaction pierced through you when she whirled her head to look at you with a scowl. You gazed back at her and smirked. "You never cared this much before. Why now?"

"Things changed." Carla looked forward again, crossing her arms across her stomach and pursing her pink-tinted lips. "I thought rivalry was our thing. Fighting, getting ahead of each other. Now it's turned into something... else?"

You shifted slightly in your seat and exhaled softly. You hadn't spoken to Carla since a party Lu had graciously hosted. One too many drinks had led you to a night with foggy memories where the only thing you remembered was waking up in bed with an all too familiar face. Even with the occasional flirting, things between you and Carla had always remained strictly off romantic or sexual grounds. For the sake of your brother, Polo, and his relationship with her.

"Nothing has to change. We forget anything happened and we don't mention it to Polo." Your eyes found him in the crowd with ease. He danced with Guzman and Ander, looking as content and gleeful as always.

"It doesn't matter now. Polo and I broke up-"

"Because he killed someone and you helped him make a false alibi because you didn't want to get arrested." Your jaw clenched and with your mood ruined for the night, you picked up your jacket and stood up. She watched you, an emotion other than smugness or cruelty finally showing in her hazel eyes. Hurt. "You've been playing a part since you were born, Carla. Continuing to pretend won't hurt you."

[hellowoolf]

electra heart

pairing: din jarin x prostitute fem!reader

summary: with the softness of your body you have bought your piece of luxury, clawed your way to opulence, and wait now on the lustful whims of the rich and powerful. what havoc is wreaked when the only client you've ever loved, your mandalorian, finds you in the golden smoke of a gala on canto bight?

warnings: mention of alcohol, prostitution, reader is literally a prostitute, reader goes by alias "edie", din calls her “edee”, angst, quick mention of killing (bounty hunting), porn with plot, SMUT, soft!dom din, unprotected piv, beskar humping (sue me), tiiiny bit of degradation if you squint your eyes and pat your head and rub your tummy, little bit of begging, fucking in a literal suit of armor, creampie (if i left out any, let me know <3)

word count: 4.7k

authors note: first din fic alert !!! hand on heart i meant to keep this light hearted. and that’s what counts…right ??!!!!

woolfie’s masterlist

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you had been small, once. a young thing born into the streets of tatooine, conjured by them, slipping dirty like a curse through the city with a beggar's cup. in the day, the sand heated to glass and fire, and you trailed in the shadowed coattails of men the passers by could think your father, but with nightfall came the slow, syrupy suck of warmth from land, and even pressed up against building corners and doorways you shivered in the starlight. and what a cruel thing it was to know—to be, even then, so certain of your own poorness. you stuck little fingers through the holes of your clothes to cork the heat of your skin, and reconciled, in the meanwhile, with your birth as a nomad with no place to journey.

oh, but you loved the ships. with festivals held on the plains came warships and single-seat fighters, great discs of silver settling the baking sand, and you circled the throngs of people to let the gleam of sunlit metal blind you, if only for a moment. with scrap metal and a child’s palms you laid your plans there in the tatooine sand, to seek out whatever precious lavishness was left out there for you. beads of sweat jeweling down your wrists you thought yes, you were fit for that sort of life.

it became clear to you, when you came of age, that your body was your only currency for purchasing such plans. kicking stones while you wound through the cityscape, you supposed the home you could make in a brothel, and the money, too, made for an even exchange, and besides, you’d absorbed worse than man. you tap a manicured nail down your glass and hum with the bellish chime. where had all those girls gone? where were they now? you wonder if they’ve caught wind of you from here, if your perfume has traveled that far. you hope so.

“my edie, how are you honey?”

kel talbot is even blonder than you remember him. with his chest to your back in the sprawling porcelain of his bathtub he’d admitted, along the skin of your shoulder, that it wasn’t real, the color. he dyed it when he went home to naboo, he said. still damp and soapy he’d tipped you an extra 5,000 credits, for your discretion and your loveliness. 

“i’m well, kelly. it’s always so wonderful to see you,” you lilt back to him. and because you can’t help yourself, so prone to indulgence now, you add, “have you been off home? i haven’t seen much of you here.”

he’s lovely, really, and delighted that you would ask. “as a matter of fact, i have. my mother’s been remarried a sixth time, if you can believe it. a great big ceremony and all, and i really couldn’t miss it.”

you smooth your free hand down the lapel of his jacket, black silk gleaming between the pillars of your fingers as you drag them. you wouldn’t mind him, for the night. “i really miss you so much when you’re gone.”

he steps closer, flattered little smile, and you look up at him through your lashes. “don’t stroke my ego, edie, it’s unbecoming,” he whispers, so thoroughly pleased with your attention on him, and you tug on the bunch of his coat in your palm.

“do you want me to stroke something else for you, kelly?”

he lets out a shuddered breath across your face. heir to an agricultural fortune on naboo, he is all tradition, brought up on pomp and circumstance and a set of shoulders shaped for the head of a long dining table. your innuendos fall heavy on him, always. he doubles over with them, sinks into you to realign himself upright. edie, edie, someone called you edee once, it means jaws, teeth, he’d told you. when it came time to shed your first name, your real name, it’d come naturally. edie, edie. kel is ripe for biting now.

“i–i have somewhere to be, honey, i can’t.” you pout at him a little. he tips generously. “don’t look at me like that.”

you set him back by your hold on his suit and he brushes himself with his palms, dusting the fabric from whatever coital indecency you’ve smeared on him.

“i’ll let you know when i’m in town again, okay?” and he offers it like a favor, and you suppose he hopes it to be one, so you nod with a gentle sigh.

“go enjoy your night, kelly. i’ll be here if you change your mind,” you promise, and with a tender smile his platinum hair filters back through the ballroom. 

if you’re honest, you don’t really know the purpose of this event to begin with. canto bight shines bloated with galas and gamblers, and you dance, ephemeral, through the lot of them in search of clientele. scanning the dancing gold and satin of this crowd, collected on the bottom floor of the hotel you work from, you find mostly elderly men, married and elderly. you certainly aren’t above servicing either, though you went out tonight for the delights of it more than anything else. draping yourself in the inordinately expensive wrappings gifted by your previous clients, arms and collarbones dripping over with fine jewelry and precious gems, you enjoy the ritual of it, now. you enjoy the rest of it, too, with the right sort of client. you drag a red gemstone, set in gold, to and fro along its chain, your first little opulence left with the credits on the windowsill. edee, edee. a passing, devastating thought: like the girls from that first whore house you hope he smells you, hope through the filter of his helmet he’s struck with the scent like a sharp ache that sweetens in the middle. and—

you should’ve missed it, really. an inconsequential glimmer in the face of all the light you’ve gulped down these past years, but still you seem to find it, the little silver spotlight convexing through the curve of your glass. it points right on you, the beam, and you tilt the glass back and forth to watch the light twitch along your sternum. your body tenses with the stretch of a memory, of you in the sand on your back with the sterling starships jumping into hyperspace above you. but surely there’s no ship here, you reason, and when you look up, he’s right there. they all wear the same getup, creed driven and plated, but you are certain it’s him. with a cock of his hip and a shoulder leaned up against the wall you are certain, so certain, and he is right fucking there. it’s all coming back to you now, his beskar in the rotting wood of your doorway, little words in mando’a, your name, the first one, in his mouth. your mandalorian.

gliding through the dancing bodies of the ballroom—they part for you, now—you shiver with the breeze of your dress, a great sweeping curtain of red silk. you don’t remember, really, when he stopped coming to see you, only that you were wholly and inappropriately devastated. you missed the stick of him between your thighs, the way he loved you. you were so sure he did, back then, and you find that still, as this diamond sea of people carves a path for you to him, you are still sure. you can feel your own wetness collecting at your seam; you cannot unlearn this want for him.

he doesn’t notice you until you’re inches from his side, and still he won’t turn his head. from his peripheral you are unrecognizable, you suspect.

“which one?”

and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him move the way he does as your voice echoes behind his visor. it’s a startled jump, a straightening, a tip of his helmet to the side. you think he’s frightened, at first, a heavy terror that collects through the tendons of his hands, but the fear leaves easy, sugars into wonderment. he says your name, arced in question and through the rasp of his modulator.

you shake your head, look out at the ballroom. “i don’t use that name anymore.”

“i–you…” he shakes his head, knocks something loose, “...what are you doing here?”

you snort. “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i have someone i’m looking for.” and it should be ominous—i have someone to kill here—but his voice is still soft, airy with the sight of you. you turn back to him and nod to the crowd.

“yes, i ask again, which one?”

“you know i can’t tell you that.” and he says it like a memory, like the sweet juice of nostalgia on his lips, he says it like i remember you.

you shrug. “i hoped maybe the rules had changed.”

“mm,” he hums, “century old creeds don’t seem to, i’m afraid.”

you giggle with the youth he brings you back to. it’s so easy, falling back here with him. the tilt of his helmet leans to his other shoulder, dark visor tipping down your dress, and your skin fizzles. 

“what’s brought you here, then?”

you mirror the angle of his neck. you know, you know. he grunts around something thick in his throat, your name, the first one, you think. he remembers what you said.

“what do i call you? now?”

the delight that twists through you is a sacred one. “edie.”

this does him in. his head tips back against the wall behind him, steadying breath filtering out. “edee?”

“not quite. e-d-i-e.” he lifts, with what seems a great effort, his head back up to look at you. you continue, softer, “but almost.”

and because you know your mandalorian, you see in the shift of his boots on the ground that he’s as ecstatic as his metal plating will allow. his hands twitch, and you want them to touch you, need him to touch you.

“come dance with me, mando.”

he does his best to hesitate, really, but then you’re out among the swaying people, one gloved hand at your back and the other clasped between your fingers, closer now than you’ve been since he last came inside you some years ago in whorish darkness. you squeeze him thinking of it, the stick and the smell, and he presses you further against the gleam of his chest, yes, i remember, i remember. it’s only here, molded around him, that you feel how much bigger he is, the broad width of his shoulders cemented out past the lines of him you used to tend to.

“you look…sort of different.”

“is that so?”

maker, you love the sound of him like this, so close in, so insistent on whispering, so incapable of doing so. “mhm.”

“doesn’t hold a candle to the changes you’ve made, cyar’ika.”

“mm,” you hum, “you know, it’s funny, i feel much of the same.”

he bunches his hand a moment in the silk of your dress. “the glamor hasn’t pulled you under?”

your laugh reverberates against his chestplate. “oh no, i’m sure it has. i just mean i’ve always liked shiny things.”

he groans, quiet and tight. “and why’s that? you like your reflection in them?”

he unlatches you from his chest to spin you around before fastening you back to him, and your scoff whips an arched path around you. “please, the vain one between us has always been you, mando.”

he lowers his head, great secret on his lips. “i haven’t shown my face in decades, edee.”

you can hear his tongue on the word, and you know he hasn’t said your new name, similar as it may sound. the lapping scoop of mando’a washes you over again with the memories of him. and laughing, again you are laughing. you love this bit. “yes, i do remember that part. though i find it awfully excessive that you prance about the galaxy in this welded jewel of a thing.” you knock against the beskar with a knuckle.

“welded jewel. you’ve gotten metaphorical while i’ve been gone.”

“this crowd enjoys it.”

he glances over and around your shoulder. “and you enjoy them?...this crowd?”

you suck on your front teeth to think on it. “you know, most of them don’t ask for it. not all of it, anyway. it’s mainly a lot of talking, now.” and it’s true. even above the lust, this powerful lot is lonely, irrevocably lonely. he nods, and as your heart hammers and wails you tilt your head up to his helmet to whisper against his visor, “you never wanted to talk, did you mando?”

the band of his arm around your back constricts again, a gruff admission, “no, i didn’t.”

he never did take anyone else in that little brothel, it was only ever you. the other girls liked to watch him pass by through the hallway, luster of his armor glinting in the low light, but he walked a tight line to your door, knocked twice, soft as anything. even in that wooden box, a bed and a window and an empty dresser, you remember the metal of him grating at the joins as he tried to make you feel something. you remember, too, that so green, so newly wrung out as you were, your limbs went limp before his credits ran dry, but he defected to your will, watched your body and worshiped at its altar. when your spine loosened and your hips unwound, still with time paid for, he stepped back into the sanded stench of tatooine, hand-cupped pile of credits on the windowsill. yes, the windowsill and the i’ll come back for you and the creak of the floorboards, you remember it so well.

“how much do you charge these days?”

you’re tightening your thighs together as you sway with him. “don’t patronize me.”

“i’m not.”

a ribbon of air releases from your nose, be steady. “20,000 credits.”

and he doesn’t flinch, only lets the hand around your back slip along the gloss of your dress, drawing a line above your ass with his thumb, the line he won’t cross without purchase. “i’d pay it.”

you can’t help this now. “will you?”

whatever mark he’s come to kill tonight is slipping through his fingers, but you fill that space just fine. his helmet tilts, and you feel a leather paw come up to retrieve that little red necklace from the hollow of your collarbone. the pad of his glove passes over the gem once, twice, body tightening and buzzing in metal. “this is mine,” he chokes.

yes, it is. you nod. and he’s decided, it seems. with a modulated groan and let’s go in your ear, he’s shepherding you from the ballroom, hand tight at your waist as you find your way to the elevator. and what with the ceremony of your mandalorian, the tediousness of his armor coming off, you fill the elevator shaft with the smell of your drooling pussy and the air thickens with the buzzing glow of you both together again, but you do not move. the tickle of his eyes through tempered glass rubs behind your ears, still a killer, always a killer, you think, just as you are forever what you have always been. the two of you, frozen in blood and sex, the only warmth you’ve ever known. this reality pulls behind your tongue and you gag on it. 

ding. the doors slide open. 

you press a thumb to the screen on your doorknob and your mandalorian crowds up behind you, lets you feel the cool touch of his body, the heat that peeks out at the corners. with thick fingers squeezing at your waist and the hard curve of his helmet at your hairline, your knees buckle with the thought that you might have loved him, too, perhaps fatally, but as the lock clicks open and he pulls you inside you suppose it doesn’t matter much now. 

you’ve worked this room for nearly a year. a window expands from one wall to the other, beams the morning light and warms the bed sheets, and in the drab of afternoon, twinkle of the city just barely cresting over the sunshine, you watch the people below. drunkards and lovers and princes, you scratch their heads with the cliff of your nail, nose against the glass and breath fogging there, drawing up their mythology and smudging it with the skin of your palm. now, though, with the constructed starlight of clubs and casinos shouldering its way through the night’s darkness, the room bathes in polluted light and the faint sound of wealthy indulgence. there is no windowsill for your mandalorian to balance his payment.

“come here, edee.” 

he’s sat himself on the edge of the bed, hand running up and down the metal expanse of his thigh. you stalk your way to him, ruck the hem of your dress up passed your knees to straddle his leg, and slowly, so slowly, through honey and slick and years of parted wanting, he brings his hands to your sides. you splay your fingers on his helmet.

“been a long time, mandalorian.”

he hums in agreement, tips of his thumbs just grazing the underside of your breasts over the silk of your dress before running down again, relearning the ends of you. “my cyar’ika,” he whispers. 

your cunt clenches, sobs with his sounds and the pressure of his thigh. breath shuddered and indignant you drag your pussy along the plate of armor. throat tight with a whine you ask him, “how do you like it now, cyare?”

his body takes to the slice of mando’a in your mouth like water to sand, something dark and heavy, and his hips tilt up to you as you undulate your cunt along him again. the coil of you both is raveling taut and knotting at the edges, perhaps permanently now, twisting back into the shapes you used to make together. and it was always this way between you, this dancing walk to madness; with the head of his cock he fucked a shard of beskar into you, you think, that first time, and in every meeting since he’s rut his hips to claw the thing back out, but your body has absorbed the alloy of it. 

“i want you to fuck me like you missed me.” a shuddered breath, a secret thought, and then: “did you miss me?”

and that question doesn’t come from the metal. no, with your palms warming his helmet you know he’s asking from the fleshy lines between the silver pieces. this is a bloody question. the drag of your cunt against his leg continues still, toes curling beneath you with the cold sting through the fabric of your panties, and perched here atop him you suppose your honesty costs you little in the face of all the rest you’ll give up.

“yes, i did.”

his hands collect your dress like water, silk spilling out between the fingers of his gloves, as he bares you to him, and his visor tips with the sight of you, a feat of topology he memorized so long ago. with a brush of red fabric against your ears you cling to him in only the little scrap of lace that licks along his leg with the wet kiss of your cunt.

“this pussy get wet for me like it used to?”

fuck. 

“yes, yeah,” you breathe out, little bites of ecstasy weaving their way from your clit to the nape of your neck. 

“oh, my edee, look at you,” and he grips a hand in your hair, pushing your eyeline down to watch the gleaming strip of want brushed and rewritten over on his armor. “you like drenching me like that? fuck cyar’ika i’ll leave this hotel like this and everyone will know i’ve fucked a fucking whore.” fuckfuckfuck. you remember the vein along the underside of his cock, want him to hurt you with it now. 

“so fuck your whore, mando, you’ve paid for her,” you plead, but he drops his helmet to your forehead, the both of you still awe struck at the starlit gash of slick you’re dripping on him as your hips gyrate. 

“you’re no more patient than you used to be,” he chuckles, but the wobbled rasp of his voice strips him all but naked to you. his hands grind you harder on his body and you wail, neck open as your head falls back. the pleasure sinks its teeth in you now, all hot bloodlust and bubbling open like seafoam.

“fuck, mando, i–i’m gonna come.”

“yeah, that’s it, right here, make that pussy gush for me and then i’ll fuck her open.”

ecstasy knocks through your arteries as your body pulls tight against him, and with desperate hands he grabs at you, around your asscheeks and between your shoulder blades, to feel you jerk with it. he’s groaning something deep and unforgivable watching you move, but already you’re looking for the weight of his cock.

“fuck me, fuck me,” you heave into his shoulder as you slump over, and he’s nodding silently with you, yes, i remember, i remember. the preamble of fingers and tongues is being leapt over, but neither of you seem to mind. he pulls the leather of his gloves off to maneuver you onto all fours on the bed, and after working his pants open with the bared warmth of his fingers the pads are back on you, running down your back and up your thighs. the heft of him pokes at you and you’re clenching with the feeling, the memory, again the memory. from between your open legs you drop your head to watch him pump his length, fingers tan and thick and a little tattoo between them. 

his head catches at your opening and a whine spills from between your teeth. 

“louder, cyare,” he grounds out. another inch in and you keen.

“fuck.”

his palms find purchase on your side and he anchors himself there, partway within you. you both whistle out whispered breaths listening to the sound of you joined together, him pulling out a centimeter before sinking it back in, fucking you with the head of his cock. 

“oh, it’s just the fucking tip and i’m stretching you already, cyar’ika,” he moans.

“more,” you mewl, “i want more.” and really that’s always been your problem, you suppose. 

his hips are speeding up now, wretched little humps into the tight clutch of your cunt, but he abstains from the whole of it. “fucking beg me for it, edee, i’ve waited this fucking long.”

into the sheets, bunched by your fingers and your jostling knees on the bed, you moan, “please, please, please, fuck me on your cock, cyare, i need it, please.”

the piece of himself, the metal and his creed’s tongue, that he rutted into you all those years ago comes roaring at him now, is cracked open in the air of your voice, and he stutters with it. he fucks you like retribution, hips slapping against your ass with a wet crackle, and you’re screaming, suddenly.

“that’s it, edee, that’s it.”

the walls of your cunt pulse velvet around him as he punches in and out of you, cock reaching up like he’s trying to touch your tongue with it, run through the length of you with his steel and grunting. your body blooms for him, petals open like it always did. when was the last time fucking him felt like your job? it’s all coming back to you now, crying at the foot of your bed, missing him dearly. you have always been a professional despite the intimacy of what you do, but you feel wholly unprofessional here.

“fuck, you’re so fucking tight, it’s like you’re sucking me back in,” and you can’t help your clenching now, “yes, edee, again for me, again.”

and you do, pulsing and clamping on his shaft, and he nearly wails with the feeling. the hum of his voice through the helmet protects him some, but maker you know him well, years worth of your mandalorian, and so you hear it all clearly, him melting behind the metal and fusing at the edges. you push away the thought that he’ll pay you for this.

“maker your pussy feels so fucking good, i’ve never stopped—ah—never stopped fucking thinking about it.”

the jut of his chestplate bites your skin as he pulls your hips up but you barely feel it. “no?”

“never, never,” he repeats, and his own babbling eggs him on, you think, as he thrusts impossibly faster. he fucks you like he needs it, has always needed it, and you’re reminded again that you loved him before, that you love him again, now, perhaps, but it’s all so hard to see clearly with the tight chain of pleasure running up your spine. 

slick seeping from your hole around him you moan, “feel so f–fucking full of it, fuck.”

a frantic hand comes around to your front, pulls the red gem from your chest to lay along your back, and watching the glint of red and gold that he left you bounce on your skin makes him growl and choke. “fuck, fuck, i’m so close, cyar’ika.”

he bends to meet your back and drops the weight of his helmet on the wing of your shoulder and you might not survive the angle of his cock in you now. you’d clasp your hands in penitence if they didn’t hold the both of you up, because this luxury, him greeting your body like it’s his final gutted conquest, is the last you’ll ever beg for. 

with both of you sputtering your souls out on the duvet he groans, “i miss your old name, edee, give it to me again.”

the begging makes you pulse, but you shake your head. your name is your first and only born inheritance, and when you grew old enough to realize it you’d had to shed the thing, or rather hide it, stashed away, untouched. 

“please cyar’ika, just one more like this, just like this, your real name.”

your moans screech with the tragedy of him pleading with you this way, and bellow because you want to let him. yes, you love him now, and you wheeze, “i don’t know your real name, mandalorian.”

this knocks the wind from him and it blows out along the back of your neck but the piston of his cock in you continues, heightens further, and you’re both on the precipice of something devastating. he groans out breathless “din, din, it’s din,” and then, “maker please let me use it.”

as deep and jagged as the naming cuts you, you have never felt this hallowed a thing. him inside, and knowing what to call him, is unlike any bliss you’ve ever known. “din,” you wail.

he nods at your back. “yes, yes, din. let me use it.”

at last you’re nodding, crown of your head bobbing back on his body, and a torrential downpour of your name spits from his mouth, slides down his helmet and onto your spine. and the coming is unlike all the rest, a slow climb, a painful clawing that rips your flesh from the bone, but suddenly you’re both heaving with it, his warmth pumping through you and your gushing slick sliding out. for a moment you panic, worry for the windowsill, for the way it always ends. but your din. the panic catches on din and smokes away.

your limbs give out and you meet the mattress with your eyes closed, aching and a little empty, but mostly as satisfied as a desperate creature like yourself is capable. you’re reminded of the clank of his armor as he rights himself behind you. it’s so easy to forget it, what with how human he feels.

“din.”

the rattle of beskar stills. he returns your name, the real one again.

i love you, i loved you then, and you loved me. no. no, you think, it’s far too true to say. so instead: “will you come find me again?”

the bed dips as he sits on it and a gentle glove strokes through your hair. “always, cyar’ika. i’ll come back for you.”

and because you believe him, din, you do not lift your head to watch him place the credits and dissolve away. you’ll save the shine of him, you vow, for the next time he arrives for you. your mandalorian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[raquellemonsta]

Hi!! Just saw ur post announcing that you’ll be taking requests so I’d love to send one in! I would love love LOVE a timeskip! Tobio x supermodel/influencer/celebrity gf who is like the IT girl of Tokyo and is super gorgeous Bcs I’ve just forever had this thought that timeskip tobio just SUITS so well w like specifically a famous celebrity that compliments him yk?? And not to mention he’s also canonically attractive like YESS. It just makes so much sense bcs I def think Kageyama fits into the unpopular/quiet guy trope with the ultimate sunshine/popular gf yk?? So so excited to read it!! <33

i LOVEEE this idea. i think his personality perfectly contrasts a popular/famous cosmo girl. i kind of went crazy with this one, and it has it's own little twist on it so the two aren't initially dating (also enjoy the lev cameo <3). hope you like it!!

timeskip! kageyama x celebrity/model! reader

4.0k words

(part 2)

----

you live a pretty normal life. you have lots of friends, lots of clothes, and your very own makeup brand. plus, you have millions of followers on all of your social medias, enough brand deals and fan mail to fill up an entire house, and weekly photoshoots for fashion magazines. and not to mention a beautiful penthouse in the most expensive part of tokyo. okay, maybe your life isn't that normal.

at only 23, you've been on the cover of famous magazines (both in your home country and abroad), developed your own million-dollar beauty brand, and even starred in a few popular movies. the spotlight has always seemed to find you.

when you were younger, you participated in pageants, first locally and eventually moving up to larger-scale competitions. you would start to get spots in commercials for random products. you had become locally well-known, however it would be at the end of your teens that you would be catapulted into real stardom.

when you were 19, you were crowned miss universe japan and were the runner-up for the miss universe competition. ever since, you had become a national celebrity and were known internationally as well. you now lived a lavish lifestyle and surrounded yourself with glamorous possessions and people (though not to say you didn't appreciate and even miss your life before fame). as tokyo's beloved 'it' girl, your life is exciting and lots of business at the same time.

which brings you to now, you were sitting in the backseat of your car after just leaving your manager's office. you kept replaying the conversation you just had with mr. gushiken.

"i don't understand what you're trying to say" you admitted.

"you're going on 24 (y/n), and you've never publicly dated anyone! you're going to become less relatable if you keep it up" he warned. your manager has been on your case about getting into a relationship to boost people's view of you. personally, you didn't care how relatable you are, but the more you thought the more you realized people might find it weird that their favorite megastar hasn't shown any sign of a love life. that didn't mean you wanted a 'pr' relationship though. you want love to find you, you don't want to force it or fake it. if that means waiting for the right person then so be it.

when you finally come back to reality, your driver informs you that you're almost to your destination. your manager booked you a shoot for some designer handbag brand that's going to pay you a large sum for the photos. you're even getting a free purse from their new line, so you're not going to complain.

entering the studio, you're greeted by an intern and shown to the set area. you're caught off guard when you see lev haiba at the set with you. you are aware of him, though you've never collaborated with him before. you most often see him in perfume/cologne advertisements, while you usually appear for fashion brands.

with the context that your manager wants you in a relationship, though, you start thinking that maybe you're being set up. a sinking feeling in your chest causes you to consider what dating lev would be like, and then onto lev himself. what is he like?

"hey (l/n), it's nice to work with you!" lev excitedly greets you. he has a wide grin on his face and talks faster than you can even keep up with.

"i'm happy to work with you too lev" you smile back. you make your decision then and there.

lev is very handsome, he's a model for crying out loud! but he isn't your type. superficially, you've always been into tall guys with dark hair. but honestly, appearance didn't matter to you as long as he had certain other traits. personality-wise, you liked when guys aren't like yourself. you find yourself clashing with lev simply because the two of you are very similar in your dispositions. it's nice as a friend and colleague relationship, but you don't see it working out romantically.

"alright ms. (l/n), please follow me" a younger man calls for your attention and lead you to a dressing/makeup room. your makeup took a little over half an hour, and then you were helped into the elegant red dress you were given for the shoot.

following the same man back out, you see lev already waiting for you so the shoot can begin. you shake hands with the photographer before getting some individual shots with the bags. then, they decide to have the two of you do some photos together. at first, it's innocent enough, but then they start asking you to get into some slightly more intimate poses. for example, the photographer has their intern move you two into a pose where your back is to lev's chest. they have him place his arms around you while you hold a handbag (and he has one over his shoulder). it's a very couple-y pose and you can just picture your manager scheming with the shoot photographer.

the thing that finally puts you over the edge is when they expect you and lev to kiss. that basically confirms your suspicion that this was some sort of plot to make the public see you and lev as a couple and spark a pr relationship between two models. your heart picks up its pace, but not in a positive way. you start to breathe heavier and feel on the bring of an anxiety attack. the only thing really stopping you is knowing how it could affect your reputation.

it's too much. i need to get out of here.

you settle for a kiss on the cheek, before announcing that you're not feeling very well and rushing off the set and back to your dressing room. you chug from your water bottle and breathe deeply, knuckles white as you clutch the edge of the table. you give yourself a few minutes to breathe before quickly getting out of the red dress and slipping into a slightly more casual black one. you grab your purse and walk back down the hallway, saying thank yous and byes to people as you go.

you give a more personal goodbye to lev, and give him a kind smile to show that it's not his fault that you ran out. he smiles back at you in understanding as you leave the building, your driver waiting out front for you. the sun is getting lower in the sky, and the streets are still bustling.

after that interesting shoot, you really need to unwind. you have your driver bring you to an upscale club in the heart of tokyo. you aren't an alcoholic by any means, but you really wanted a distraction and didn't think you would find it in your quiet apartment.

finally reaching your destination, your bodyguard opens the door for you. you thank your driver before walking up to the entrance of the club. several of the people in line excitedly point at you, whisper-shouting that you're even prettier in person and various other compliments. you grin at them before happily greeting the bouncer. this is a club you frequent, and the bouncer is used to seeing you.

you walk inside and immediately feel the speakers vibrating the floor. this dark front hallway merely conceals the colorful dance floor and lit-up bar. one of your favorite things about this club is the lighting perfect for insta pictures. you say hi to some of the people you recognize before feeling the need for a drink.

you head to the vip section and take a seat. your bodyguard is hidden away in the back, giving you some semblance of privacy while still ensuring that he'll be ready at a moment's notice, though you doubt you'll need his assistance here. while waiting for the server, you look down from the indoor balcony that gives a view of the dance floor. there are actually a lot more people here than usual, now that you think about it. there's a lot of really tall, really hot guys here tonight on top of that. a server comes by and you order a drink before asking about all of the extra people here tonight. he tells you that japan's national volleyball team are here

you wait for your drink by doing some more people-watching. you look around the vip area from the chair you're on when your gaze falls on a man across the room. he seems vaguely familiar, but you can't put a name to the face you're currently openly staring at. he's insanely attractive and fits the tall, dark, and handsome archetype to a t. even from where you're sitting you can tell he's particularly muscular, and his features are sharply defined.

is it cheesy and cliché to say this is love at first sight? you can't think of another way to describe it. you feel your heart start to thump faster in your chest, and unlike earlier it's a positive feeling. you look back at him and to your surprise, find that you're making eye contact with him before he quickly averts his eyes.

did you just catch him staring at you?

now you have to find out about him. by going over to him and asking? well no, he had three other guys currently sitting at his booth with him, which runs the risk of him blowing you off even if he is interested. so you do what makes the most sense and ask random clubgoers about him instead of approaching him. like any drunk person down there would ignore a pretty girl anyway.

you head down to the dance floor, where the music is nearly deafening, and try to ask around to find out who this guy is. it takes only one person to find out the identity of the handsome 'stranger'.

a girl around your age is able to tell you that it's kageyama tobio, a professional volleyball player. that explains his excellent physique. you look his name up on your phone and sure enough find the man and numerous pictures of him throughout his career. damn is he hot, especially in his action shots. you also realize you've definitely seen him online before, probably in a headline as part of his impressive volleyball team without even realizing it. apparently, he's a very talented setter and a key part of his team, despite being one of the younger ones on the team (when you see he's 24 you want to yell out loud that finally an attractive guy is actually your age and not a questionable amount older).

you're told by others that he's 'emotionally unavailable' and that he is already in a committed relationship (with volleyball) though. you aren't going to let that stop you, plus he was actually staring back at you earlier. that has to count for something! besides, even if it doesn't work out, the chase itself is fun.

you make your way back up to your seat. you feel eyes on you and find him at the other side of the vip intently staring at you again. one of his teammates (you assume) is sat across from him, though his attention is clearly on you. you wave at him and give him a flirtatious wink, which causes him to furrow his brows. he looks behind and then around himself while you continue to stare at him. is he really so surprised you're interested in him? does he not know how attractive he is?

when he's finally alone, you decide to make your move. pushing your chair back, you make your way over.

"hi. mind if i sit?" you ask. you're not going to beat around the bush or worse- make him feel like he's wasting his time.

he looks at you, likely recognizing you as the beautiful woman across the room that seemed interested in him. he then takes in the rest of you, and you're happy you had decided to wear a short but flattering black dress that highlights your favorite features.

"hey. no" he shortly responds. he shifts over in the booth despite the entire rest of it being empty. you take the opportunity to be close to him and sit in the area he made space for. you bump his shoulder accidentally before placing your drink down.

you sit down and get a good look at him up close for the first time. you have to say, he's even more attractive in person compared to your phone screen. his eye contact with you is inconsistent, as you'll catch his gaze for a few seconds before he looks away with pink cheeks.

"i haven't seen you here before" you say, "what are you doing here tonight?" you question, taking a sip of your drink. you want to hear from him, even though you kind of already know the answer. you look up at him to find him already looking at you, for some reason surprised that a pretty girl is actually this interested in speaking with him. after several moments of his incredulous look, he finally answers you.

"i'm on japan's national volleyball team" he explained, "we're here for 'team bonding' or something". he doesn't say much but you find yourself hanging on every word he speaks. he has an alluringly deep voice that you noticed more with his longer sentence. "i know who you are" he says.

you're shocked by his sudden assertion. honestly, you shouldn't be because you're literally one of the most famous people in tokyo, but still. you honestly feel kind of bad that you hadn't really known who he was when he caught your eye from across the room earlier.

"really?" you ask.

"who doesn't?" he responds.

kageyama does know you. he knows a lot about you, truthfully. you've been his 'celebrity crush' for several years, ever since he happened to see you on the miss universe competition representing his country.

he had been visiting home, watching tv with his sister. miwa has always been a big fan of reality tv and beauty competitions. he hadn't really been paying much attention to what she was watching, opting to play some random game on his phone while waiting for dinner. that was until his sister started freaking out and squealing at the tv. who was the older sibling again?

"tobio it's her! miss universe japan!" she excitedly shouted. "she's so beautiful" she had quieted down a little, but still had her eyes glued to the screen. kageyama looked up from his phone and at the screen and was surprised to see a breathtakingly beautiful girl wearing the 'miss japan' sash. she was smiling brightly and he felt a thump in his chest even though the smile wasn't directly aimed at him.

words on the bottom of the screen came up: 'miss universe japan: (l/n) (y/n)'. he immediately went to look up your name online, and found plenty of pictures of you, along with your instagram with hundreds of thousands of followers. he only scrolled for a few seconds before following you and looking back up at the screen, entranced.

it was a whole new thing to see you in front of him now. slightly older from the first time he had laid eyes on you, but still just as alluring. your smile still makes his heart skip.

"well, i'm honored that the kageyama tobio knows me" you say. he merely stares back at you in awe at finally meeting you in person as he tries to think of something to say.

one of your favorite poppy songs comes on and you excitedly jump up. he gets slightly nervous at your quick action.

"dance with me?" you ask. you have a wide smile on your face and hold your hand out to him.

"i don't dance" he tells you. which is true. whenever he comes to clubs or bars, he feels out of place. while his friends and teammates are able to unwind and attract the attention of women, he finds it much harder to do either. he's much too quiet and emotionally reserved to hold the attention of most women, while others are put off by his 'unsettling' smile.

"it'll be fun! there's so many people here no one will be looking at you anyway, you have nothing to be worried about" you reason. you can clearly see the inner turmoil written on his face.

little do you know, kageyama is so nervous he's going to embarrass himself in front of you. he's never gotten this much personal attention from such a gorgeous girl, let alone a famous one he'd been crushing on for several years. he's almost always had fangirls, but people have always said he's unapproachable and too volleyball-minded for girls to ever have any attraction beyond physical. you've been talking to him for this long though, so he can't help but think this is different and you might actually be genuinely interested in him.

he mutters a small 'ok' and you take your chance before he can change his mind. you grab his hand and pull him from the booth and down the stairs all the way to the dance floor. turning around to face him, you have to look up to meet his eyes again. definitely over 6 foot, but he doesn't tower over you as much as lev does. it's a good, happy medium. he's standing very stiff and looking around at everyone before he looks back down to you. you give him a warm smile, encouraging him to loosen up a little.

you decide it seems like he needs you to help him. you grab his hands and sway back and forth in a goofy way. he only follows your actions, letting himself be wildly flailed around by you. he can't help the smile that breaks out onto his face, one he hasn't let himself show to anyone in a very long time (due to the many comments people had made about it). when you give him a strange look, he quickly tries to go back to his straight face and pulls his hands out of yours, turning around so you can't see his expression. he's already managed to mess up.

that's not how you see it. you're surprised at how his smile makes you feel. you finally understand what people are talking about when they say they have butterflies in their stomach. you feel light and airy, while also being tied down to this world next to him. your entire body heats up and you swear you're about to catch on fire. you haven't felt this way for a guy in a very long time, especially not this quickly. everything about him demands your attention and makes you wish you didn't need to blink so you never have to miss a glimpse of him.

"your smile is cute" you tell him honestly. it's a little unconventional, but you mean what you say. you can tell it's genuine and true, and that in itself is what makes it so beautiful. he gives you a strange look with something you can't really grasp. the best way to describe it is like he's really seeing you for the first time. not just your face, your body, your looks. he sees into you.

"you're gorgeous" he tells you. it's something you've heard thousands of times but it holds an entirely different meaning when you hear it from his mouth. you glance up at him and find him giving you an intense look of admiration and maybe even more.

"kiss me" you whisper. he doesn't respond verbally, and instead grants you your request. the butterflies in your stomach explode and go all over your body. it's an amazing sensation that leads you wanting more. his lips are slightly chapped, and you have to admit he seems slightly inexperienced, but you don't care. if anything, it's endearing. you hear some of the people (they sound like guys so you guess they're probably his teammates) whistle and holler in your general direction, but neither of you pay any mind to it. his arms fold around your back and pull you in closer, causing you to reach up and place your arms over his shoulders and around his neck. after what feels like forever, you pull away though he follows you. you hide your face and just embrace him. he's so warm and the feeling calms you. you feel safe with him, and wish the two of you could just be alone with each other.

you tell him as much, and he offers up his place for the two of you to go. you smile at him before texting your driver and your bodyguard (who was watching you now), telling them the address you would be heading to.

honestly, the rest of the night is history.

a package turned up at your apartment, something which at first makes you a little nervous. being as famous as you are, it's unsettling to think a 'fan' might show up at your door or have bad intentions with you. fortunately, the package is addressed to you from your manager. why not just text me, we're in the 21st century? you think, but pass it off as him being an 'old man' (he's about 50, so you decide).

you sit down with the package on the couch in your patio. opening it up, you find one of the most popular celeb news magazines and immediately recognize the two people on the cover. it's a picture of you and tobio walking down the sidewalk after one of your recent coffee dates. he had been walking you to one of your friends apartment buildings to visit her (and more importantly her dog). the photographer had caught you animatedly talking about god knows what, but you were more interested in tobio. he was looking at you intently with the faintest smile that most people probably wouldn't notice. if they didn't notice that, though, they definitely would notice the look in his eyes: lovestruck. if it was a cartoon you were sure he would have literal hearts in his eyes. you held your frappuccino in the hand not intertwined with tobio's. though you could find paparazzi annoying and even creepy at times, you have to admit you love everything about this picture.

the picture of course has a caption. in big letters it reads:

'tokyo's hottest new couple!: (l/n) (y/n) & kageyama tobio are official!'

you can't help the smile on your face. flipping through the pages, you finally come to the one about you and kageyama. a small slip of paper falls out when you do so, and you find it's a note from your manager:

congratulations on front cover again. he's a keeper - gushiken-san

"what's that?" a familiar voice behind you questions. you feel arms wrap around you and you smile. it seems someone's finally gotten out of bed.

"us" you show him the cover, to which he makes a low hum in response.

"i'm putting this on the fridge" you joke. you turn around to face him in all of his bedhead glory, wrapping your arms up around his shoulders.

"seriously? i look weird in that picture" he scoffs. you playfully swat him for making such an objectively wrong claim. you always help him with his self-esteem. he never doubts his abilities in volleyball, but in nearly ever other part of his life he needs some assistance. even now that the two of you are actually dating he doesn't feel worthy enough, friendly enough, attractive enough for someone like you. you do everything you can to convince him otherwise. he is worthy, sweet to you, and definitely attractive enough.

"you look handsome in it! but you always do so i'm not sure why you're surprised" you teasingly flirt. his cheeks darken and you reach up to pinch one. he moves his head away but moves back to gaze sweetly into your eyes. you look back just as sweet, and can't help but be lost in his beautiful blue eyes.

"if you say so" he responds with a kiss to your cheek. you respond with a kiss to his lips, followed by many more.

[cutiedwaekki]

WANT SO BAD

kinktober special fic

summary : were jisung's dream frequently about eating in his dream , but how can those dream have an impact in real life ?

content : weight gain , unrealistic weight gain , dark feederism , obsessive behaviour , SFW

Usually i'm not into darker fic , but here i wanted to try something different

Enjoy ♡

(^з^)-☆

Jisung had been having the same dream for several nights now.

A dream that, although strange, filled him with joy. There was an enormous buffet, stretching as far as the eye could see, with mountains of food laid out before him. To his right, steaming dishes in rich sauces; to his left, silky desserts, stacks of golden pancakes, crispy pastries, and exotic fruits bursting with juice. It was a feast fit for kings. And Jisung found himself in the middle of this paradise, a fork in hand, ready to devour everything.

That first dream was incredibly intense. Everything seemed so real. He saw himself sitting at a white marble table in an enormous hall decorated with crystal chandeliers. The sound of cutlery, the intoxicating scent of spices—it was all so vivid, he could have sworn it wasn’t just a simple dream.

Without hesitation, he dove into the dishes, tasting each one with infinite pleasure. The soft bread melted on his tongue, the perfectly seasoned meat dishes exploded with flavor, and every bite of dessert was pure sweet bliss. He ate and ate, never stopping. It felt like his stomach was a bottomless pit, yet each bite filled him with more and more euphoria.

When morning came, Jisung woke up in his bed, his cheeks round with happiness, his stomach as empty as the dream had been generous.

— "Hyung!" he exclaimed as he entered the kitchen, where his roommate was making his morning coffee.

Minho raised an eyebrow, half-asleep, as he took a sip from his cup.

— "What? What’s got you in such a good mood this early?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

Jisung was almost bursting with excitement, his eyes shining as he recalled the nocturnal feast.

— "I had the most incredible dream! A huge buffet, you’ve never seen anything like it! There was everything, gigantic dishes, hundreds of desserts… and I could eat as much as I wanted! And believe me, I ate until I exploded!"

Minho chuckled.

— "That’s so you. Even in your dreams, you think about food."

— "No, but wait, it was so realistic! I felt like I’d never stop!" Jisung replied, laughing.

— "And when you woke up, you were still hungry, huh?" Minho teased, glancing at the cookies sitting on the table.

Jisung burst into laughter.

— "You got it. But seriously, it was amazing!"

At first, it was just a funny dream, a story to share and laugh about with Minho. But over the following nights, the dream kept repeating. And each time, the buffet was even more lavish, the dishes even more delicious. Every night, Jisung found himself in front of this feast, eating with a frenzy he couldn’t explain.

Each morning, he woke up with a strange heaviness in his body but laughed it off with Minho.

— "Dude, if you keep this up, you're gonna turn into a ball with all the food you’re eating in your dreams!" Minho joked, patting his stomach.

Jisung shrugged, a smile on his face.

— "Maybe, but at least I'm enjoying it!"

However, something strange started happening. Jisung noticed that his body was changing, slowly but surely. He was gaining weight for no apparent reason. His belly became rounder, his clothes tighter. What had once been a source of jokes between him and Minho began to turn into a concern.

— "Don’t you think… I’ve gained weight?" Jisung asked, uncertain, as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Minho shrugged.

— "Well, you've always loved food, right? It’s probably just that. Nothing to worry about."

But deep down, Jisung started to wonder. The dreams kept coming, each one more intense than the last. He woke up with that strange feeling of having actually eaten. And yet, he hadn’t had anything before bed.

In the days that followed, Jisung couldn’t help but think about his dream. It was more than just a nightmare; it felt too real. And what worried him the most was how his body continued to change. Each morning, he woke up feeling a heightened heaviness, and every day, he was horrified to realize he was gaining weight.

At first, he tried not to think too much about it. After all, it wasn't uncommon for him to indulge in some excesses. But this time, something was different. He found himself weighing himself more frequently, hoping the scale would be wrong, but the numbers just kept climbing.

One morning, while trying to put on his favorite jeans, he realized he couldn’t button them anymore. The fabric, once comfortable, was now tight around his thighs and stomach. Frustrated, he pulled at the waistband several times, but to no avail. Finally, he gave up and plopped down on his bed, his hands resting on his now rounder belly.

— "Minho..." he murmured, uncertain. He got up, grabbed another pair of pants, and tried again. Those were too tight as well. His heart quickened, a dull fear overwhelming him.

He rushed to the bathroom where he kept an old scale under the sink. Heart racing, he stepped on it. He looked down: 85 kilograms. About ten more than he weighed a few weeks ago.

— "It can’t be…," he whispered, staring at himself in the mirror. He turned around, examining the curve of his belly, now more pronounced, his hips wider.

At that moment, Minho walked in, looking curious.

— "Jisung, are you okay? You’ve been in there a long time."

Jisung looked up at him, searching for answers.

— "Minho… don’t you think… I’ve changed a lot lately?" he asked, looking bewildered.

Minho tilted his head to the side, pretending to think before breaking into a smile.

— "Oh, I’d say you’ve put on a little weight, yeah. But that’s normal. Winter is coming; you’re just stocking up, right?" he joked, his light tone not hiding the strange glint in his eyes.

Jisung couldn’t help but smile, despite the anxiety knotting his stomach.

— "Maybe… but this is more than a few kilos."

Minho approached, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

— "Honestly, it looks good on you. You’re overthinking it. Come on, let’s eat."

Once again, Jisung tried to laugh along with him. But secretly, the idea gnawed at him. Every night, the buffet dreams continued, and every morning, he woke up with a slightly heavier belly, arms a bit thicker. He was now avoiding weighing himself, knowing the number would keep rising. His clothes were becoming increasingly tight, to the point where he had to start wearing looser outfits to hide the new curves of his body.

One night, after feeling that strange sensation upon waking—this persistent feeling of having eaten all night—he quietly made his way to the kitchen. He had a gut feeling, an instinct he couldn’t ignore. He tiptoed, his steps muffled by the carpet, and when he reached the partially open door, he stopped short.

He froze, seeing Minho standing by the counter, holding a plate of cheesecake. But it wasn’t the plate that disturbed him the most. Minho was leaning slightly forward, a strange smile on his lips, staring at something… or rather, someone.

Jisung followed his gaze and realized with horror that he was looking at his own body, asleep on the living room couch. He must have dozed off while watching TV. But what was even more unsettling was how Minho slowly approached, his eyes sparkling with something unsettling.

Without understanding why, Jisung slipped behind a wall, watching the scene unfold in secret. Minho knelt beside his sleeping form and murmured almost tenderly:

— "Come on, just one bite… a little more."

With a delicate, almost ritualistic motion, Minho brought the fork to his lips, and Jisung, in his sleep, slightly opened his mouth. He swallowed the bite without resistance, as if it were perfectly natural.

Jisung’s heart raced. Was it possible? Was this really happening? Every night, he woke up with that feeling of fullness, and now he was witnessing the scene unfold before his eyes.

Without thinking, he stepped out of his hiding spot and grabbed Minho's wrist, holding it firmly.

— "Minho! What are you doing?!" he shouted, his voice trembling.

Minho, far from being surprised, turned slowly to him, a smile still plastered on his face.

— "I’m helping you. I’m helping you finally be satisfied. You’ve never had enough, have you?" His voice was sweet, almost hypnotic, but his eyes betrayed something far darker.

Jisung recoiled, adrenaline coursing through his body.

— "But why? Why are you doing this?" he asked, his throat tight with fear.

Minho calmly stood up, wiping his hands on a towel nonchalantly.

— "Because, Jisung..." he murmured as he stepped closer, "if I make you big enough, make you dependent on all of this… then you can never leave me."

Those words echoed in Jisung's mind, filled with the same threat he had felt in his dreams. That wild look in Minho's eyes, that calculated smile… it all felt so real.

Suddenly, everything became a blur around him. He felt an immense heaviness wash over him, his legs weakened, and he collapsed to the floor.

(^з^)-☆

Jisung jolted awake, gasping. He was in his bed. Again. Heart pounding, he stared at the ceiling, his hands trembling. It was a dream. Another dream. But this time, he was no longer sure what was real. He instinctively placed a hand on his belly, still round, but less so than in the dream. Yet he knew. He knew something was wrong.

He gently got up, and when he stepped out of his room, he crossed paths with Minho in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

— "Did you sleep well?" Minho asked with a smile, looking innocent as he set a plate of pancakes on the table.

Jisung remained silent, his gaze drifting for a moment to the stack of food.

— "Yeah..." he murmured before sitting down slowly. But deep inside, a persistent doubt lingered. Was it really a dream, or was Minho hiding something far more disturbing behind his smile?

Jisung, sitting at the breakfast table, stared at the pancakes in front of him. Their sweet smell filled the kitchen, and despite the nausea rising within him, his stomach rumbled. Minho stood across from him, looking as cheerful as ever, a serene smile on his lips. But something in his eyes, something Jisung had never noticed before, made him uneasy. There was a strange glimmer, a hint of unhealthy satisfaction that never left Minho’s gaze when he looked at him.

“Come on, eat,” Minho urged in a soft, almost soothing voice, pushing the plate toward him. “You need to regain your strength.”

Jisung hesitated, fork in hand. He felt the weight of his clothes against his skin, the constant pressure around his belly and thighs. Each bite seemed to add another layer of fat to his already heavy body. Yet, he lifted his fork toward the pancakes, as if driven by an external force. Minho watched the motion with a barely concealed smile, his eyes never leaving Jisung’s hand.

“It’s crazy…” Minho murmured, suddenly pensive, his tone almost dreamy.

Jisung stopped dead in his tracks, the fork suspended.

“What’s crazy?” he asked, a shiver running down his spine.

Minho straightened up, crossing his arms on the table, his eyes fixed on Jisung’s rounded belly, visible through his tight t-shirt.

“How you’ve changed. It’s fascinating.” He leaned slightly forward, as if captivated. “Look at yourself. Every day, you become a little more… full, a little more… complete. It’s beautiful.”

Jisung’s heart skipped a beat. Minho’s tone was far too intense, far too obsessed. He furrowed his brow, trying to determine if this was another one of Minho’s strange jokes. But the look in Minho’s eyes was nothing funny. There was an obsession beginning to surface, an unmasked desire that chilled him.

“Minho… don’t you think I’m becoming too… well, too big?” Jisung asked, hoping to break the tension with a hint of humor, even though his own worry seeped through his voice

But Minho merely smiled wider.

“No, Jisung. You’re becoming perfect.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it resonated in the room like a declaration. “You don’t understand yet, but this is true beauty. Your curves, your roundness… They are exactly as they should be.”

Jisung felt his stomach tighten, not just from the food but also from the way Minho was looking at him. His eyes slowly slid over every part of Jisung’s body, as if he were contemplating a work of art, a statue he was patiently sculpting, day by day.

“It’s… it’s strange, what you’re saying,” Jisung replied, troubled. He dropped his fork, his appetite suddenly cut off.

Minho didn’t take his eyes off him. His gaze grew increasingly fiery as he continued to examine every inch of Jisung’s body.

“You don’t understand yet, but you’ll understand soon.” His voice lowered, almost conspiratorial. “The more you become… like this, the more you belong to me. You don’t realize it, but you are becoming what I’ve always wanted you to be.”

Jisung felt a surge of panic rise in his throat. He gently pushed his plate away, searching for a way to change the subject, to escape that burning gaze.

“But… Minho, why?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Why do you want this?”

Minho remained silent for a long moment, his gaze intense and piercing. Then, he slowly stood up, walked around the table, and approached Jisung. He leaned down, placing a hand on his shoulder. The warmth of his fingers spread like an electric current through Jisung’s body. Minho gently caressed his shoulder, sliding his hand down to his arm and then to his belly.

“You know what I love about you, Jisung?” he whispered softly, his fingers gliding over Jisung’s rounded belly with a strange tenderness. “It’s that you are malleable. Fragile, perhaps, but above all… malleable. I can shape you, mold you. And soon, you will be exactly as I want.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. He abruptly pulled away from Minho’s hand and jumped to his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Stop it, Minho! This isn’t funny. I… I don’t understand what you’re trying to do, but I don’t like it.”

Minho stood still, his gaze still locked on him, but his smile had vanished. His face now wore a strange neutrality, a mask barely concealing the intensity bubbling within him. He blinked, then slowly, his smile returned, softer, almost soothing this time.

“Jisung, calm down,” he said in a voice so sweet it became unsettling. “I just want to make you happy. You’ve never been so well-fed, so satisfied, have you? Think of all those dreams. You’ve never lacked anything in those feasts. Why not accept this abundance? You’ve never been so complete.”

Jisung shook his head, stepping back. His heart raced too fast, a visceral fear overtaking him. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. Was it really Minho who fed him in his dreams every night? Was it he who was making him gain weight, transforming him slowly, like some sort of secret project?

The silence between them became suffocating. Minho took another step closer, still calm, still smiling. He reached out to stroke Jisung’s arm, but Jisung quickly recoiled.

As Jisung stood by the door, ready to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the apartment, Minho let out an amused sigh and leaned back against his chair. He cast an almost possessive glance at Jisung, and his smile widened.

— "You know, Jisung..." he began softly, his tone oddly soothing despite the palpable tension. "Look at yourself."Hesitant, Jisung glanced down at his own body, his rounded stomach under the tight stretch of his t-shirt, his thick thighs that now seemed larger than ever. Minho didn’t look away, observing every detail as if he were admiring a work of art.

— "It’s fascinating, really. How your body has changed," Minho continued, his voice full of admiration. "Look at your stomach… it’s already quite round, isn’t it? And your thighs… they’re starting to fill up the space around you."He stood up slowly, the chair creaking under his own weight, and approached Jisung, his gaze fixed on every curve, every mark. His fingers hovered just inches away from Jisung’s stomach, but he stopped just short, his eyes gleaming with a strange light.

— "Soon, Jisung… you’ll be so big you won’t be able to fit through this door." He let out a soft laugh, almost tender, before continuing. "Look at yourself already… your belly, your double chin that shows every time you lower your head… and those stretch marks on your skin, they tell a story. The story of your transformation."Jisung, petrified, didn’t know what to say. His body, now so heavy and cumbersome, felt even more foreign under Minho’s unrelenting gaze.

Minho stepped closer, his smile more intense. "And you know what? I want you to keep going. To grow even more. To become even more… mine." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "It’s never enough. You think you’re already big, but I want to see you even rounder, even more... perfect."

A cold shiver ran down Jisung’s spine. Minho took a step back, leaving him standing near the door.

— "You won’t escape me," Minho whispered, his gaze piercing. "You’ll always come back. Because, even if you don’t admit it yet, deep down, you know you love it. You love what you’re becoming."

—“I… I have to go,” Jisung stammered, grabbing his phone from the table. “I’ve… I’ve got things to do.”

Jisung didn’t wait another second. He flung the door open and rushed out, his heart pounding, leaving Minho behind with that inscrutable smile.

Minho didn’t move, but his gaze followed Jisung to the door, still intense.

“You won’t be able to escape me, Jisung,” he whispered almost tenderly. “You’ll come back. And when you do, you’ll know you’ve always wanted this.”

Jisung felt a cold shiver run down his back. He opened the door with a quick motion and left the apartment without another word.

(^з^)-☆

Outside, the cool air hit him, but it wasn’t enough to dispel the anxiety gnawing at him. Minho’s words still echoed in his mind, like an obsessive echo: “You won’t be able to escape me. You’ll come back.”

Was he truly under Minho’s influence? Was it him who fed his dreams every night to change him physically? Or was it his imagination playing tricks on him, influenced by his own insecurities and unacknowledged desires?

He looked down at his belly, rounder and heavier than ever. Maybe this was all just a dream. Maybe Minho was only joking, and his tired mind was exaggerating everything.

But then, why did it feel like all of this was terribly real?

And as he walked away, in the silence of the apartment, Minho stood by the window, his eyes still fixed on Jisung’s disappearing silhouette. A slight smile played on his lips, and he murmured to himself:

“He will come back. Always.”

[lazypanartist]

Stone loves you. You've always known that.

He takes care of you just like any good boyfriend would. He helps you clean, cook, takes you out on dates, buys you gifts, lavishes you with his love.

He's just a tad.. well, absent isn't the right word.

He's busy. Busier than any other man you've known, with a job he can't tell you about, and more than enough money for anything you ever ask him for - not hard, since you don't ask him for much.

The only thing you can't ask him about is his job. Not difficult; he always lets you know if he's had a rough day and needs to slow down, or if he needs to go out and get some air, or if all he's feeling up to is some takeout and some cuddles on the couch.

It's the only real boundary he's put up.

Your internal guesses for his profession are dwindling. Michelin star rater, thief, government official, PI.

And you can't help but love him, no matter what he ends up being.

As long as he's still yours.