#and maybe my frustration will have that effect for someone

[nadvs]

the power play (part six)

pairing hockeyplayer! rafe cameron x tutor! reader

rating mature 18+

summary rafe is your complete opposite. the only thing you have in common with the hockey player you tutor is that he’s also recently had his heart broken. in a last-ditch effort to make the people who hurt you regret it, you agree to pretend to date.

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Rafe drives down the dark street, silent while his mind races and whirls with regret.

He shouldn’t have offered to come with you tonight. He shouldn’t have let himself see you like that, with all your friends, with the guy who’s blind to how lucky he is that you love him.

Envy courses through him, burning and vicious. Who would he be if he had a life like Beck, surrounded by people who loved him? Why couldn’t he have that? Why couldn’t he be someone else? Someone you’d want?

“You might be right,” you say happily. “Maybe Beck is jealous. He wouldn’t stop looking at me tonight.”

Rafe is still in his head. He hated that your eyes wouldn’t stay on his at that party. That other eyes were on you.

“Neither would that guy who plays for Hatfield,” he mutters.

“Marcus?” You sink further into the passenger seat, settling in for the hour-long drive back to campus. “What do you mean?”

He rubs his jaw, reminded of how warm your cheek felt on his when you whispered to him during that stupid game of truth or dare.

“He likes you, too,” he says.

You have to laugh.

“No way.”

“So, he’s never tried anything,” Rafe states, unconvinced.

You look out your window as he turns onto a busier street. Through your high school days, Lyla had implied that Marcus had a crush on you, but you refuted it every time.

“Well…” You sigh. “Lyla thinks because he asked me to a dance one time, it meant something, but he told me himself he was asking me as a friend.”

“He said that to not look like a loser if you shot him down,” Rafe huffs.

“I’m not so sure,” you say.

His pain weighs even heavier. It’s messing with him how you imply that guys don’t look at you like that. It took you this long to say that maybe Beck’s jealous.

You’re oblivious to the effect you have on people. On him.

Frustration wrenches in his chest and his words come out unfiltered.

“You really are clueless about this shit,” he mutters, his voice clipped.

It’s the first time Rafe’s words truly cut into you. You’re used to his brashness, to how he doesn’t hesitate to let you know when you’re irritating him, and normally it makes you laugh or roll your eyes.

But this stings. And it throws away the joy you’d felt seconds ago. You’re already painfully aware that you’re inexperienced, having spent so much time stuck on one guy who kept you trapped in a confusing loop.

Despite the pang in your heart, it’s comforting to know, to really know, that you could never like Rafe like that.

You’ve seen bits of tenderness in him, but he’s more hard, icy edges than anything else, and he’s not the type of person you’d ever feel safe giving your heart to.

At least you know you’ll be able to avoid Rafe hurting you the way Beck has.

Rafe glances over to see you turned away, your dejected pout reflected in the window. He hates himself for being such a dick, but fuck, it kills him that you act like it’s ridiculous that someone could have feelings for you.

He’s falling off the edge right in front of you and you don’t see it. And it dawns on him that it’s a good thing you don’t, because you wouldn’t fall with him.

“That was mean,” you say quietly. You look over and catch glimpses of the writing you left on the inside of his wrist as the streetlights flood in and out of the car. “Even for you.”

The thinness of your voice is a razor that slices into him.

“You’re not always right about everything, okay?” Rafe says stiffly.

“I never said I was,” you reply. You look out the window again and take a moment before you continue speaking. “But what happened with Beck did mess with my confidence, if that’s what you’re getting at. And you’re not making it any better.”

Knowing he’s only adding to your baseless insecurities cuts him deeper.

“I’m sorry, alright?” he mumbles. He stares ahead as he pulls onto the freeway. “All I’m tryin’ to say is that you don’t need to be so jaded just because one asshole strung you along.”

Your ache numbs a little. In his own, tactless way, he’s attempting to help.

“Your approach needs work,” you say flatly, “but I see your point.”

Tension sinks between you, every sense of camaraderie gone. And Rafe is desperate to undo it, to make you feel better.

“You can tell you’re getting to him?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say in a hush, although the high of witnessing Beck’s jealousy is gone now.

It’s satisfying to know he’s seeing what he’s missing, but it hurts that you had to go to these lengths for it to happen. It hurts that you still care.

“Good,” he says.

Rafe’s met with no response. And he wants to beg you to speak. His lips part, heart hammering.

“What are you thinking?” His deep voice fractures the silence.

You bite your lip, remembering the first time you were in this car, when Rafe suggested he drive you back home because you wouldn’t stop talking.

Now, he wants you to talk, and if he didn’t ask, you wouldn’t offer up your thoughts like you usually do. Not after that dig.

“You ever wish you could make yourself not care about something?” you eventually say.

“All the time,” he admits within an exhale of relief that you answered him.

“Really?” you ask, your brows lifted in surprise.

He knows he manages to seem like he doesn’t give a shit about most things. It’s a defense mechanism that works until his anger gets so heavy that he cracks.

He refuses to crack in front of you again. Right now, he’s okay with giving you the vulnerability you’re always trying to coax out of him if it means you’ll be you again.

“She told you I wouldn’t move on, right?” he says sardonically.

You gaze at him, reminded of the way his ex had laughed when she told you he wouldn’t stop bothering her.

“I kept trying to work things out and I – I wish I didn’t.” He shakes his head, embarrassed. “And I don’t even want to be with her now, but I care enough to want to piss her off. I know that’s not normal.”

You eyes are fixed on the license plate of the car ahead of you. The things you know about his past relationship, things that Emma said, things that he said, come together to paint an ugly picture.

“I think it’s how a lot of people would feel,” you say. “It doesn’t sound like she was very nice to you.”

Rafe knows he could be just as poisonous, raising his voice and escalating fights, but Emma made him feel like he was insane for being human.

Any time he was hurt, she said he was overreacting. He wasn’t allowed to be angry. To be sad. To be anything.

And he always feared she was right. He was too much, felt too much. He’d heard it from so many people, the first and loudest voice being his father’s.

“She wasn’t,” he answers. “I wasn’t, either.”

You don’t doubt it. You can only imagine how vicious their arguments were.

“Can I tell you something?” you say.

He’s upset, but he takes a page out of your book, trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re going to do it anyway,” he mumbles.

Despite yourself, you chuckle.

“You already very kindly established that I’m no expert on relationships,” you say, your joke splitting the tension, “but do you ever think that maybe things were toxic between you?”

You’re prying again, but Rafe’s relieved you are, because it means you’re okay.

Maybe his relationship was toxic, but he doesn’t know otherwise. It’s how he operates, always on the cusp of chaos, always on the edge of imploding.

“What?” he asks, just to stall.

“You said you wanted to hurt each other when you fought, right?”

The tires continue to rapidly roll over the asphalt with rhythmic pats, the wind whooshing over the windows.

“Yeah.”

“What’d you fight about?”

“Everything,” he says. “I mean, yeah, I have a short fuse and I – I say shit I don’t mean, but she acted like she never did anything wrong.”

“That’s hard to deal with,” you sympathize. “What’d she do wrong?”

He grits his teeth. The memory of how Emma would shut him down whenever he had a problem with something she did flashes through his mind like a bad dream he wants to forget.

“She acted like she only liked me when I was happy,” he tells you, on edge, in disbelief that he’s hearing his voice admit these things.

“What would she do when you weren’t?” you ask.

His jaw tenses, the memories of Emma’s shouted words a punch to the gut.

“She’d tell me to grow up,” he says dryly.

Rafe is sure you’d never say something like that to him, but there’s still an alarm going off in his head that he’s opening up too much, giving you what you need to hurt him, sharing criticism that you might silently agree with.

Every piece that he shares with you could serve as proof that he’s a catastrophe of a man that you’d be better off staying away from.

You look down at your lap, your heart pinching. The space between you is delicate, fragile, a bond you never could have imagined growing between you.

You’re upset to think about how Rafe clearly already doesn’t really do feelings and was made to feel bad for showing his to his girlfriend.

Emma had called him pathetic, but you feel that the word describes her instead.

“That’s not fair,” you say. “Nobody deserves to hear that from someone who’s supposed to care about them.”

He only offers a rigid shrug.

You’re still curious about what he told you when you asked him why he liked her. He’d said things were simple with her, that she made him feel uncomplicated, but it sounds like all they did was bicker.

You want to know why he tried to get back together after they’d had such a rocky relationship, why he’d called her crying.

“You said she made things easy?” you say.

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, not sure how much more of this conversation he can take.

“When we weren’t fighting, we had fun,” he explains. “I didn’t have to think about anything, you know?”

And she never pushed to see the pieces of himself that he hides. And all you do is push, so why the hell is he losing his mind over a girl who’s done nothing but try to make him face what he runs from?

But when he looks at you again through the darkness, it’s like he can see how good you are.

And that’s why.

That’s why you’ve taken him captive. You’re warm, the way you find joy in almost everything, the way you’re unabashedly yourself, the way you want to understand people for who they really are.

You take in his awestruck expression, looking like he can’t believe he just told you all that.

You get it now. Emma didn’t want to deal with the heavy stuff. And it worked for him. Until it didn’t. It doesn’t sound like they had that deep of a connection if she punished him for having feelings.

“I really don’t like her,” you say quietly.

“Damn,” he murmurs. “Brutal coming from you.”

You chuckle. Rafe takes a few breaths before he speaks again, hating that he actually feels shy right now.

“Sorry I said…” He trails off, not wanting to repeat the word clueless. He went too far. “You’re smart, okay?”

“You’ve mentioned that a few times,” you laugh.

“We friends again?”

You smirk.

“Maybe if you say please,” you say.

“Shut up,” he laughs.

“Hmm.” You squint. “Try again.”

You watch him with an expectant expression, a playful smile on your face.

“Please,” he mumbles, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Alright, you don’t have to beg,” you chuckle.

Rafe groans in annoyance and you laugh again, picked back up out of your low mood.

You get the feeling of being linked to him again, the one you had when you watched him from the stands before you even spoke.

He’s wading through the pieces of a broken relationship, and you’re trying to shake yourself out of infatuation, and they’re different circumstances, but you both need the same thing. To not care anymore.

“I read something about how the opposite of love isn’t hate,” you say. “It’s indifference. Eventually, you won’t care about what she thinks. And you’ll find the girl you need when the time’s right.”

Rafe stares ahead.

“Yeah,” is all he can say. Because he’s already found the girl he needs. She just doesn’t need him back.

════════

In the span of almost five days, Rafe has gone from bad to worse.

On Sunday, the team just barely won the first game of the tournament. He watched from the bench, pissed off beyond belief watching the gameplay. They were lucky the opponents��� offense was so choppy.

It was both frustrating and validating when his coach told him that he hopes Rafe can play game two, because defense is suffering without him.

Yesterday, he saw the team’s physical therapist. He managed to move his arm with full mobility, but still felt a minor, stubborn pinch. He was cleared for game two, so long as he saw a doctor to get imaging done and make sure he wasn’t putting himself at risk.

He had the appointment this morning and he’s already dreading the call with the results. He can’t lose hockey. It’s the one thing keeping him sane.

Now, he’s walking under the hot afternoon sun, on his way to an off-campus uptown cafe you’d suggested for your tutoring session. He had to park two blocks away after looking for a spot for ages.

He’s in a foul mood, rereading your text just so he doesn’t take it out on you. You gave him the head’s up that this place is usually busy and parking could be tough, offering to stick with the library if he preferred.

He went along with what you wanted, because he’d rather not let you down. At this point, it hurts seeing any hint of sadness on your face. He’s still pissed off at himself for what he said to you in his car last weekend.

He steps into the small cafe, the air smelling of coffee, the machines whirring over overlapping conversations. He finds you in the corner, your head adorably tilted in thought as you type on your laptop.

The knot in his stomach loosens once you look up and smile at him.

Every morning, every afternoon, every night, you’re on his mind. You’ve thrown him completely off center, dominating every second of his day, the longing to see you when he’s not with you insatiable.

Rafe strides towards you between full tables, and you take a moment to drink him in, the strong, self-assured way he walks, never the type to act like he thinks he doesn’t belong wherever he is.

“Hey,” you say. “Was parking okay?”

“You warned me.” He pulls out the chair across from you, dragging it across the hardwood. You shut your laptop. “Why are we here? I got that tattoo for nothing?”

You glance at his wrist to see that the marker has washed off.

“It’s gone anyway,” you giggle. “I thought we could use a change of scenery. Plus, this place has the best treats.”

You slide a small brown paper bag towards him.

“I’ll trade you for your laptop,” you say.

Minutes later, you’re checking in on his grades. Your stomach drops when you see a warning in red text next to last week’s submission link.

7 days late.

“Rafe,” you say soberly. “You forgot to send it in.”

You look up at him from across the table, confusion creased into his features as he finishes chewing.

“Remember, last week?” you say. “Your laptop died and I told you to submit the essay before midnight?”

He readjusts his posture.

“It’s not a big deal,” he sighs defensively.

“It’s 5% lost every day,” you reply. “I’ll submit it now.”

He scowls, agitation rippling over his features. It discredits the text that Lyla sent you the morning after her birthday party, not that you believed it anyway.

My mom said it’s cute how obviously in love Rafe is with you.

The way he’s looking at you right now is the farthest thing from love. Like he said, he’s a great liar.

“This matters,” you reiterate. Rafe glances away. It’s hurtful to witness how disinterested he is.

You submit the assignment, displeased by his apathy, reminded of how much his bad attitude and moodiness can get to you, but try to remain positive.

“Let’s see what you have so far,” you say, opening his draft document. “This week’s discussion question is about the significance of time in the novel. Did you notice it was sometimes spelled with a capital T?”

Your brows pinch in concentration as you lean forward, reading what he’s put together. It’s sparse, disjointed, just like his work when you first started tutoring him. It’s like he’s gone backwards.

You look up at him, but his eyes are downcast, lips turned down. Something’s wrong.

“You didn’t get much time to work on it?” you say, keeping a kind tone to your voice.

“This book made no sense,” he mutters.

“It is pretty convoluted,” you say. “But there’s substance to it. I like how it explores the idea of friendship. Speaking of, friends tell each other when something’s wrong, so get to talking.”

If Rafe didn’t know better, he’d think you're trying to hurt him.

Disappointing you was painful enough. It’s why his instinct was to act like that late assignment wasn’t a big deal; because then, he wouldn’t have to accept that he was messing up in front of you yet again.

And now, you’re rubbing it in that you only see him as a friend, adding salt to the wound.

“It’s been a shitty week,” he admits.

You lean over to push the bag of treats a little closer to him, earning a nearly silent chuckle.

“Is your shoulder feeling okay?” you ask.

“I had to do some scans,” he says. “I’m waiting to see if I can play. But I’m good.”

Your lips purse in thought. It’s like Rafe is nothing but knee-jerk reactions, snapping when he’s mad, direct about when he’s annoyed, but he hides everything else, as if he’s telling himself he’s not allowed to feel anything besides anger.

You wonder if he was always like that, or if his last relationship left that particular scar.

“Is midterm season getting to you?” you ask. “Because it’s getting to me. Studying’s hard enough and now I have a group project that’s been keeping me up at night.”

“It’s that bad?” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“You know when you’re put into a group with guys who think dropping paragraphs into a slide deck counts as contributing?” you say. “And when you try to meet up outside of class to practice the presentation, they pretend they didn’t see your text? Does that kind of stuff not happen to you?”

A smile pulls on his lips.

“Just me, then,” you reply.

“Do I need to talk to anyone?” he asks, and he realizes he’s only half-joking.

“You mean like, to threaten them? Only if you can fit it in your schedule,” you joke. “I don’t want to put you out.”

You think he’s kidding. He’s not. He feels insanely protective over you, and while he can see that you’re not that bothered by this, he’d get those idiots you’re working with in line if you needed him to.

This is only getting more difficult. He wants to tell you that he’s serious. That he’d do anything to make things easier for you, that you don’t deserve to be ignored, that you should cut this act out and be with him for real.

But he has to accept that while he’s spent his life being ruthlessly honest about what he thinks about people, good or bad, he needs to swallow down his words around you.

He can’t talk like that with a girl who’d never want him. Who he’d never recover from getting rejected by.

“You know you can tell me when something’s bothering you, right?” you say. “It’s not like I’d…”

You don’t finish your sentence, your gaze soft. He can tell you’re trying to reassure him that you wouldn’t criticize him for being stressed like his ex used to, the reminder of your last conversation planting discomfort in his chest.

“I didn’t mean to forget,” he utters, eyes darting away again. You nod. So he does care. And now you feel bad if you made him feel ridiculed.

“Was I too intense?” you say dolefully. “I’m sorry. I just want you to do well. We worked hard on that assignment and it’s a waste of effort to lose points for lateness.”

You pull out your notebook, full of study notes you took last semester.

“It’s okay,” you conclude. “It’s just one assignment. We’ll finish up this essay and then start prepping for the midterm.”

Rafe’s muscles loosen, in awe of how quickly you just turned his mood around.

“Oh, before I forget,” you say, “do you want me to come to the next game? I can drive up with Lyla. It’s an away, right? This Saturday?”

“You did your homework.”

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?” you laugh.

“Yeah, you should come,” Rafe says after a beat. “If I play.”

“Deal,” you say with a grin.

He’s hopeful you follow through. Because even if you’re there as a friend, as all you’ll ever want to be to him, he plays better knowing you’re watching.

════════

Rafe sits on the team bus on the way to game two, his eyes following the dips and valleys of lush trees lining the road. Music buzzes in his earbuds, his fingers interlaced in his lap, his knees bouncing.

He needs this before big games; the closest he can get to solitude, confining himself into his own mind, finding focus.

He’d never liked quiet until he started playing hockey. He chased noise, commotion, distractions. And he still gets his dose of chaos with every game, but it’s always preceded by this stillness. This moment he gives himself for the calm before the storm.

He got the call yesterday. The scans came back fine. They showed nothing serious, no signs of tearing, no reason for him to be freaking out.

Rafe texted you right away, finding himself wanting to tell you of all people the good news first, even before his coach.

As expected, you responded with an enthusiastic message telling him you couldn’t wait to cheer him on. The focus he’s trying to find right now keeps getting derailed by thoughts of you.

The song fades out, replaced with ringing. He picks up his phone to see that you’re video-calling him.

His stomach flips and he feels like a little kid with a crush on a girl in his class. The effect you have on him is starting to get really damn embarrassing.

Your pretty face appears on his screen, the backdrop a well-lit ceiling and colorful display shelves.

“Hello,” you greet him cheerfully. “We just stopped at a gas station. Do you want me to grab something for you for after the game? You know, because you’ll need nutrients and electrolytes and all that.”

“I will?” he says, his lips turned up in a smirk. “No shit?”

“Okay, I’m just being nice,” you laugh. “Don’t you get tired of being so sarcastic all the time?”

“Not really,” he replies.

Isaac, who always sits beside him on these drives, hears Rafe mumbling. He leans over and gazes at the screen.

You see the corner of Isaac’s face, then grin and wave.

“Hey, I have a really quick question,” Isaac says.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“She said to leave her alone,” Rafe murmurs.

“I did not,” you laugh, realizing only Rafe can hear you through his earbuds.

“Lies,” Isaac says. “I have this essay that’s killing me. You’re good at that stuff, right? Could you look at it for me? Please? It’s a huge chunk of my grade.”

“Sure,” you say with a nod. “Send it to me. You can get my email from Rafe.”

“She said no,” Rafe says.

“I saw her nod,” Isaac retorts.

“I’ll give you her email, alright?” Rafe says impatiently. “You done now? I’m trying to talk to my girl.”

Isaac feigns offense and leans away after giving you a thankful smile.

“You don’t need to get me anything,” he tells you.

“Suit yourself,” you say. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says simply, because he can’t be honest that he’s nervous about this game, nervous that he’ll mess up his shoulder again, nervous that he’s falling so hard for you that you could shatter him without even knowing it.

His mind is blank, words refusing to form.

“Okay,” you say, unhappy he’s being so short with you.

You don’t know what you did wrong, why he gets so irritated with you all the time. You’d called him impulsively, only ten minutes into your drive with Lyla when you stopped to buy a drink, but you assumed you were in a good enough place to call whenever you felt like it.

It’s all too familiar, this sinking feeling of questioning what a guy thinks of you, just like you always did with Beck. You know things between you and Rafe are platonic, but you thought he’d like to hear from you, because you like to hear from him.

Still, you can’t pretend that the sound of him calling you his girl didn’t make your heart lift with an unwelcome warmth. You remind yourself it’s a lie. Beck’s surely sitting close by, overhearing Rafe’s words.

“I’ll see you after the game,” you say low-spiritedly.

Rafe grimaces, guilt sinking into his bones. You’d once told him he makes you feel annoying and you were joking, but he hates to think that he’s really making you feel like that.

“How ‘bout you?” he asks hurriedly. “How’s your drive been?”

“Aside from Lyla’s road rage?” you joke.

“I do not have road rage,” Lyla defends herself with a playful gasp from the other side of the aisle.

Rafe watches as you look off-screen, the corners of your eyes crinkled as you laugh.

“Be careful,” he says, worry icing his chest. “Tell her to drive safe.”

“Oh, my God, I do!” Lyla half-shouts with a laugh. “Is he always that protective?”

“It’s why I like him so much,” you answer.

This is the point where Rafe would just be direct. He doesn’t play games. Never has. He’d ask you, straight up, the next time you're alone, if you meant that or if you were just faking affection in front of your best friend.

But he can’t do that when he already knows the answer. You told him yourself last weekend. I like you. Just not like that. Imagining something more with you just makes him a masochist.

“I’m offended that your boyfriend doesn’t trust me,” Lyla says.

“He doesn’t trust anyone,” you counter playfully. You look back at the screen. “I’ll let you go. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Look what I found,” Lyla sing-songs. She holds up a bottle of the drink you’ve been looking for.

“I love you,” you tell her.

Hearing you say those words and knowing they’ll never be directed to him is its own brand of agony. And it’s so soft, so insane that he’s already thinking about love, but you’ve thrown him for such a loop that he can’t control it.

He catches his reflection in the corner of the screen. It’s almost unbelievable how good he is at it, looking so careless, numb, when his heart is cracking down the middle.

“Good luck today,” you say to him. “You don’t need it, though.”

“Thanks,” Rafe replies. “See you.”

You hang up.

“For a second, I thought you were telling Rafe you love him,” Lyla says.

“Oh,” you laugh, turning to look at the items on the shelves again. “No.”

“Do you?” she asks. “Or do you see it getting to that point?”

“Maybe,” you reply.

“You’re giving me crumbs,” she whines.

You meet your best friend’s eyes, having already heard her complaints about how little you share about your relationship. You’re tight-lipped about Rafe because you’d rather not have to stomach the shame of feeding Lyla lies.

“What do you want to know?” you ask.

“Everything. Start with the juicy stuff. Have you guys kissed?”

Imagining what it’d be like to kiss Rafe makes your stomach flutter. You wonder if his kisses would be like him; rushed, hard, impatient, or if he’d be soft and gentle and slow.

Your cheeks burn as you think about it, once again trying to pull yourself back into reality.

“Lots of times,” you say with a shrug.

“Have you guys…?” She raises her brows.

You laugh nervously. Her brother saw you leaving Rafe’s room. You doubt they’d ever gossip about you like that, but it’s better to keep the lies consistent.

You nod in response.

“And?”

“Let’s not do this here,” you chuckle, playing it off. “I don’t want strangers overhearing.”

Less than a minute after you hang up, Isaac gets Rafe’s attention with a nudge. He takes out an earbud.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Isaac says, “but how’d you get her to like you?”

“How the hell do I take that the right way?” he replies.

“No offense. She’s just so… nice,” Isaac tells him. “It’s a good thing. I can tell you’re happy. Way happier than you were with what’s-her-name.”

Rafe suggested this ploy so it’d seem that way. But with time, with getting to know you, with seeing what it’s like to be someone you care about, it’s become the truth.

════════

The game is hardly a nailbiter. Within the first period, you can tell the opponents aren’t strong contenders. It ends in an easy win.

You catch Rafe’s gaze a few times throughout the game, but you don’t get a chance to talk to him. On your way back to campus, he texts you that the team is celebrating their win in one of the common rooms in the athletes’ dorm building.

Lyla parks and before you can let her know you’ll call Rafe to come downstairs, she pulls out her phone.

“Hey,” she says after a pause. “Can you come down and let us in?”

You unbuckle your seatbelt, stomach turning. You know she’s talking to her brother.

“I could’ve called Rafe,” you say nervously when you step out of the car, walking side-by-side to the building.

“It’s no problem,” she says. You can tell that she thinks she did you a favor by taking care of it, but these days, being around Beck brings you an unwelcome, awkward tension.

Beck lets you in, holding the front door open as you exchange casual greetings. You pace through the lobby and the elevator door slides shut behind you.

Beck stands by the buttons, Lyla leans against the corner between you, and you cross your arms and look up at the numbers changing.

“When’s the last time just the three of us hung out?” Lyla says lightheartedly. “And this doesn’t count.”

Your eyes flit up to Beck, whose stare is already on you. Lyla has no idea what’s gone on between you, that an unspoken heaviness has settled between you since that day in front of his exam room last semester.

Does he regret it? Does he want to take it back? Does he wish he’d never spent years leading you on and just pursued you from the beginning? Does he want to tell you what he’s really thinking? Will he ever?

The questions swirl through your head, a pattern that, at this point, you could do in your sleep.

And you realize that the answers don’t matter. Not really. Because if it takes a lie, a delusion that you’re with another man for Beck to see your worth, he never deserved you in the first place.

It gives you hope that you’re finally taking back your heart, piece by piece.

You need to allow yourself to see who you are without this hold he has on you. To love yourself instead of waiting for somebody else to. To give yourself space to be you, unencumbered by what anyone else thinks.

“It has been a long time,” you say. “I think we’ve all just been swamped.”

“Swamped?” Beck asks you. “You doing okay?”

His eyes drift over your face, shadowed with a hint of sadness.

The elevator reaches its stop. The doors open with the ding of a bell. And you nod.

“Yeah,” you answer. “My head has never been clearer, actually.”

════════

Rafe was hoping you’d still be wearing his jersey, rubbing it in Beck’s face that you’re wearing his name, no matter if it is just a ploy.

His throat tightens when his eyes land on you as you step into the common room, taking you in as he leans against the armrest of a couch. You’re not in his jersey. And you’re with Lyla and Beck.

His heart sinks. Why didn’t you call him to come get you?

“Hey,” you say, beaming at Rafe as you approach him. “You were great tonight.”

You pull him into a hug, arms draped around his wide shoulders, inhaling the smell of his body wash.

Part of you is embracing him because it’s what a girlfriend would do. The other part is because it feels good to be held by someone who knows just how much pain you’ve been holding onto.

Rafe’s hands tighten at your waist, his nose in the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

“Pretty relaxed celebration,” you say, looking around when you part. Teammates and their friends and girlfriends are scattered around the room, grouped in different conversations.

You look at Rafe again and you swear that he’s somehow getting more handsome the longer you know him. Being inches away from him after daydreaming about kissing him makes the realization all the more overpowering.

The only thing you can feel is frustration because this is the last thing you need, to jump from liking one guy to another. Especially to one who has proven that he’d only hurt you.

You need your crush on Rafe to remain superficial. Any deeper and you’re just opening yourself up to more heartache.

“Yeah, this is really lowkey,” Lyla agrees with you. “You guys didn’t have it in you to party?”

“We’re pretty worn out,” Beck explains.

“Are you?” you ask Rafe, gazing up at him in that way that he’s grown to adore.

He is. He’s exhausted. And he’d fucking love it if you could go to his room just down the hall, lie in his bed together, doze off wrapped up in each other.

“Getting there,” he replies.

“I’ll let you guys talk,” Lyla says, then looks at you. “Or whatever it is you do.”

“Lyla,” you groan with a laugh. She slips away, prompting Beck to do the same. Nowadays, he seems to hate being around you when you’re with Rafe.

“What was that about?” Rafe murmurs to you quietly.

You lean on the armrest, settled next to him with your arm pressed against his, finding that you’ve grown to enjoy the conversations you’re always having outside of the crowds, the feeling of being tucked away into privacy together.

“She’s annoyed that I’ve been so secretive,” you reply just as quietly. “I don’t give her details about us, but can you blame me?”

“What does she want to know?”

“If we’ve kissed and… stuff,” you say, looking at the floor, feeling too awkward to tell him the truth. “I said yeah, but I couldn’t exactly come up with details about something that never happened.”

Rafe’s eyes lower to your lips, staring while your gaze stays on the floor.

“You tellin’ me you want to break your ‘no kissing’ rule?” he asks in a joking tone, as if his heart is pounding in his ears right now.

“No,” you chuckle, looking back up at him. “I still want my first kiss to be real.”

It’s the first time he doesn’t like the sound of your laugh, because it’s apparently funny to you to consider having genuine feelings for him.

He swallows down the bitterness, determined not to punish you for his own pain. He’s done that before and he hated himself for it.

“If I played so great, why’d you take off my jersey?” he asks.

He didn’t his best tonight, feeling pricks of pain in his shoulder only a few minutes into the game. It made him afraid of getting into any hard collisions. He’s never been like that. It’s just as aggravating as it is depressing.

You lace your fingers together in your lap, fidgeting.

“I left it in the car,” you answer. You don’t offer him anything else, a faraway look in your eyes.

“Did something happen?”

You breathe out slowly, still in disbelief of how easily Rafe can read you. It’s a good thing you’re not really falling for him. He’d be able to tell.

“You’re too perceptive,” you murmur. He smirks. “It was just a weird elevator ride.”

“You could’ve called me to let you in.”

“Lyla called him before I could.” You clear your throat. “I’m finally seeing him act how I always wanted him to and… it doesn’t feel like I thought it would.”

Rafe studies you intently, hanging onto your words like they’re the only thing keeping him breathing.

“Everything that happened with him made me so insecure,” you confess. “And I think I shouldn’t date for real until I’m totally over him.”

At least Rafe won’t see you with another guy once you call this off, but now he’s wondering if he’ll see you at all, if you want to stay friends with someone like him, if he can manage being platonic with a girl who has so ruthlessly claimed his heart.

“And that’ll be long after we stage a mature, civil breakup where we mutually decide we’re better as friends,” you say. “And we are staying friends, got it?”

You offer him a smile. He returns it, relieved that you answered his unspoken concern, lucky that you want him around at all.

Rafe hopes you mean it, that you’re not just being nice. He can’t not have you in his life. He’ll just have to get used to quietly wanting you.

“Do we have to?” he teases, keeping his pain hidden.

You breathe a laugh, gently elbowing him, the contact making your heart feel a little less heavy.

It’s moments like these, when Rafe jokes with you and flashes his dimpled grin and shows glimmers of softness, that you worry your feelings will plunge into dangerous territory.

But you spent too long silently hoping someone would like you back. You can’t do it again.

(to be continued)

author’s note my bad… i love a man yearning too much to end it just yet… slowest slowburn i’ve ever written stg

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[hannahchronism]

i don't know what action movie/tv show producer needs to hear this but that whole i-can-predict-your-fighting-moves-by-looking-at-you thing isn't real. (at least not the way it's commonly presented.)

[howdydoodydodis]

I definitely wish I could see more takes on C3 from people who aren’t steeped in western cultural Christianity.

I think a huge problem I’m seeing in some attempts at meta with C3 is that there is a subset of viewers who do not understand the place, value, and meaning of real world religion. It breeds takes like “well throw the gods out! Who needs them! They caused characters and the world pain! Free Vax from the Raven Queen!”

I throw that last one in there because it is the most ridiculous yet frequent and is really the crux of the issue. Vax’s story is very much about faith and the importance of faith and devotion. If you place no value on that you’ll end up grossly misunderstanding the character and the nature of his tragedy.

I’m going to out myself as an atheist, but I think the issue with a lot of these takes are that they come from internet atheists who are either resentful of and hostile toward religion because of personal experiences or do not know any devout people in their lives who they respect and can empathize with. And while I am not trying to downplay the very real phenomenon of religious trauma, when healing from it it is crucial to realize that all spiritual traditions are not synonymous with the one that harmed you. I would really implore more people to explore why many good people find spiritual traditions and religion to be a source of solace, community, and meaning before writing off the idea wholesale as something only functioning as a means of power and control that people can be educated out of believing. I encourage you to branch out and here are some examples of things I’ve done to challenge my own judgement over the last ten years: read the writings of gay Catholics exploring the queerness of Jesus. Read some beautiful poetry written by a trans man who specializes in Anglican theology. Explore religious observances different from the ones you experienced and attend a Seder. Go if a coworker invites you to a celebration of Ganesh. Learn the significance of solstice celebrations because your coworker is officiating one for a Wiccan event. Break fast at sundown during Ramadan with in solidarity with your roommate.

Deciding that all fictional religion must be an allegory for a specific kind of toxic nationalistic prosperity gospel Christian cult found in America will only limit how you engage with both fiction and the real world. It took me a long time to get to this place about it and I hope I’ve put the spark of curiosity and not judgment into at least one person reading this.

[im-boned]

ok Heres some thoughts now that im not stupidly sleepy anymore. i like thinking about dreamys first encounter with miles after entering his universe, freshly mutated and not having any real idea of whats going on, confused as fuck. so they see spiderman on the news and go “shit, thats the guy i gotta talk to, how the FUCK do i get in contact with him” and then IM THINKING they do something very silly and dramatic which is to stage a crime like an armed robbery or something so hell show up, then as soon as hes there they drop the weapon or whatever and go “oh good it worked. sorry about scaring everyone i just needed to talk to spiderman for a second ill find some way to pay for therapy if anyone needs it after this” and then telling him about their own powers so he can help

[arpicityandneed]

My Turn

18+ f!reader. best friends steve and bucky. dirty talk. bisexual steve. bisexual bucky.

~

"Tell me again where you want it baby." Your new husband had you in his lap thumbing your clit while you rode him. Your thighs were shaking but you were desperate, tears of frustration on your pretty lashes as you balanced yourself with both hands on his shoulders.

"Inside, Stevie, please?" His hands were roaming over your body possessively, gripping the fat of your ass and thrusting his soaked cock up into you with every down stroke of yours.

"Don't make the sweet thing cry Stevie." Bucky groans as he palms himself through his slacks, waiting his turn for once in honor of your wedding night. Usually he and Steve would've flipped a coin or fought for who got to bully their way inside your pussy first.

"I'm not gonna Buck, she's just so pretty when she begs. My wife." Steve's baby blues were dancing with mischief as Bucky cursed.

"You met her first by accident, Rogers. I'm older-" Bucky started growling the same damn argument they'd been having since they decided they wanted a baby and therefore a wedding. (They were too old fashioned for anything else.)

"Boys, can we argue later?" You cut in breathlessly, and Steves arm wrapped around your waist. Your only warning before he took over- fucking you up and down his shaft like a rag doll as he groaned,

"Alright baby. I gotta do right by my Mrs don't I?" With the smuggest grin you'd ever seen his balls twitched, and spurt after spurt of cum filled you fluttering walls.

"Goddamnit, Stevie." You would've comforted your other boyfriend if you could focus. But Steve's thumb was rubbing your clit as you seized up, coming hard and milking his cock for all he had to give.

You collapsed against his chest.

"You gonna be good for Bucky baby? You got one more in you?" Steve murmured gently as he rocked you on his softening shaft, his cum leaking out of you and drenching his balls in your combined juices.

"Mhm. Want him inside too." You smiled as you kissed him, soft and sweet like you had several hours earlier in front of all your friends and family.

"My turn." You hadn't heard him move but you weren't surprised when you were lifted and bent over the massive bed, Bucky was hardly a patient man once he had the green light.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're dripping." Bucky's voice was hoarse. But Steve, who was laying down close enough for you to tongue at his soft cock, just snorted.

"Don't complain like you don't love it, jerk." Steve guided his shaft into your mouth and murmured softly, "Clean me up baby."

"'M not complaining punk, it's a compliment." You moaned around Steve as Bucky took one good lick of your stuffed pussy before straightening and dragging his cock head through the mess. "Your cum tastes better inside her by the way."

"Shut up, you love my cum anyway you can get it, Barnes."

"Maybe." One smooth thrust and you were full once more, and Bucky goes from teasing his boyfriend to cursing how good you feel. "I gotta say doll. You're kind of a slut."

"B-Bucky!" Your scolding would be more effective if your pussy didn't clench around him from his words and the memories flooding you brain of watching Bucky swallow down Steves cock.

"Greedy fucking pussy-" His moans were loud, shameless. "Back me up here Stevie."

"He's not wrong sweetie. Youre an absolute slut for us. But just us, yeah?" Steve sounds proud. Proud that on his wedding night his wife is being tag teamed by him and his best friend.

Fuck.

You were going to cum, hard and Bucky- the smug bastard- wasn't going to let it happen quietly.

"Someone likes being reminded how needy her pussy is. Clenching down so hard on me doll." Bucky fucked different than Steve. Harder, filthier. His hands were dragging you back onto his fat cock until the audible slap of his hips against your ass echoed around the room. He was getting close you could tell. His heavy balls were slapping against your clit, aching to add to the cum already slicking him inside you. "Should've waited till after the honeymoon to let me fuck her Steve."

His hand snaked around to find your clit and with quick tight circles over your swollen nub you came apart with a cry.

"Yeah, Buck? And why's that.." Steves eyes were narrowed like he was annoyed at being told what to do, but you knew the truth. His cock was growing hard in your mouth again. Bucky thrusted hard inside you before he started to unload, grinding into you as if to make sure his seed took first.

"Cause now we're never gonna know who knocked her up first till the baby's born."

[daisydrabbles]

Maybe it's the Moonlight

- Theo Nott x Female Reader

Pairing: Tutor!Theo Nott x Good girl!female reader

ⓘ When I write within an academic setting it’s a university au and therefore all characters are over 18!

Warnings: slight dubcon, dirty talk, fingering, corruption, praise, mild degradation, power imbalance, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex (there’s literally nobody around but still it’s a public place)

Summary: Theo has been assigned to tutor you in astronomy, but his methods are a little… unorthodox (they involve fucking)

Word count: 3.1k

‘I didn’t take you for the type to sneak out past curfew, doll.’

You looked up from your seat on the edge of the Astronomy Tower to see your devastatingly handsome tutor staring down at you.

As one of the brightest in your year, it was incredibly frustrating to you that you were almost failing astronomy. What was even more frustrating was that Theodore Nott, the infamous man-whore who’d probably never stepped foot in the library (for reasons other than making out behind the bookshelves), was top of the class.

When you requested additional help, you expected to be partnered with someone like Hermione Granger - someone as studious and academically motivated as you. Yet here you were, meeting with one of the most attractive yet most troublesome boys in school.

You two were the definition of an oxymoron: you; good, innocent and studious, juxtaposed with him; bad, corrupt and carefree.

‘I’m normally not,’ you said defensively, ‘but I really need to pass this class.’

‘And you want my help.’ he smugly added as he sat down next to you.

Immediately, you felt some weird tension between the two of you. Why did he look so happy to be here? And why was he wearing such a predatory smile on his face?

Maybe it’s the moonlight you told yourself, as you made a mental note to reschedule your next session for a more civilised location, despite the fact that this one was undeniably practical - what better time and place to study the stars?

You cleared your throat and flicked through the pages of your textbook, feeling rather shy, and desperate to get this study session over with as soon as possible. ‘So, what first?’

Theo tutted and plucked the dusty old book from your hands, before he carelessly chucked it over his shoulder. ‘What’s first is I wanna hear you say it: Theo I need your help.’

‘Hey I needed tha- what?’

He was already having fun with your new dynamic. Whilst you were disappointed with your assigned tutor, he was pleased. In astronomy, the only class you shared, he would watch you intently - in a way not dissimilar to how lions stalk their prey. You were too perfect… he thought often of inviting you over and corrupting you; fucking you senseless and leaving enough marks on your body to prove it. However he knew you would never agree to hang out with him outside in a social setting - his academic arrangement was a perfect way to get you alone.

‘You heard me, miss high-and-mighty, I want you to say the words.’

‘Why?’ you crossed your arms in protest. You didn’t want to admit to needing anyone, especially not Theo Nott.

‘Cos you think you’re better than me,’ he said simply, ‘yet here you are about to fail astronomy, expecting me to help you pass it. You almost sound entitled really, maybe I should just go-‘

‘Fine.’ you cut him off, which only made him grin and look at you expectantly. ‘Theo I… I need your help.’

‘Good girl.’ his grin widened hearing you say those words, whilst simultaneously your eyes widened hearing his response. What did he just call you?

‘Why did you want me to say it so badly?’

He shrugs. ‘What man doesn’t want a pretty girl to say she needs him?’

Cheeky bastard. Nevertheless, you felt your cheeks heat up against your will. He thought you were pretty. Not that that should’ve meant anything, coming from someone like Theo Nott. He was notorious for being a womanizer. A playboy. A man-whore. You so badly wished his reused words had no effect on you, but they did. Looking down at your lap you prayed that your flush wasn’t noticeable in the darkness, for you were almost embarrassed at how he could fluster you with so few words.

It was very noticeable.

At least, it was for Theo, who had been seeking such a reaction and had therefore picked up on it immediately. He wasn’t entirely sure if you even wanted to study at all when you suggested meeting in the Astronomy Tower, with it being a primarily regarded by students as a hookup spot. It surprised him that you actually brought textbooks and came with the intention of learning.

He had other ideas.

He was sick of girls throwing themselves at him, this time he wanted a challenge - but he didn’t just didn’t want any challenge, he wanted you.

He wanted to shut your smart little mouth up with his own; he wanted the satisfaction of taking someone so smart and fucking them dumb. The dirty-minded boy found it cute that you’d so innocently suggested the meeting in the middle of the night - that the impure thoughts he was thinking hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Clearly you hadn’t considered your choice of clothing either. He didn’t miss the way the wind was causing your little pleated skirt to fly up, nor the way your tight blouse clung to your curves and accentuated all the right places. Places he’d love to touch; to kiss.

Alas, he would have to settle for letting his mind wander for now. As badly as he wanted to fuck you, he did also commit to helping you. His hands would have to wander later. Wander up to your perky tits, down to your sensitive cunt…

‘Anyway,’ he shook his head to rid himself of his horny thoughts, ‘is there an area of study you’re particularly struggling with?’

‘Star charts.’ you admitted, your shoulders slumping.

Theo looked as though he was trying his hardest not to laugh at you. ‘Star charts?’

‘You’re supposed to help me, not mock me.’ you deadpanned.

‘I’m sorry,’ he chuckled, ‘I just find it amusing that someone as intelligent as you can’t read a fucking star chart.’

‘I can read a star chart just fine. I just can’t…’

‘Use it to navigate the sky?’ he offered.

‘Exactly!’

Unable to help himself, he dropped his voice to a low and seductive tone and leaned into your ear. ‘Well I’d be more than happy to make you see stars.’

Theo’s hot breath on the side of your neck combined with his dominant tone caused a gush of wetness between your legs. Discreetly, you squeezed your thighs together, silently willing yourself to break free from whatever trance he’d put you under.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Theo, who was thoroughly enjoying watching you squirm.

‘I- if you don’t wanna help me that’s okay but I think maybe I should-‘

‘Believe it or not,’ he cut you off, his tone surprisingly gentle, ‘I’m actually trying to help you.’

A puzzled look appeared on your face. ‘You threw my textbook away when I tried to open it.’

‘Well, let’s not live in the past.’ he waved off your statement, holding out his hand for you to take. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘With what?’ you eyed him skeptically.

‘Jesus are you always this tense? It’s a yes or no question, doll.’

After a moments hesitation, you answered; ‘Yes… yes,I trust you.’ and took his hand.

That was all the confirmation he needed to yank you onto his lap, causing you to let out a little gasp. Sitting on Theo Nott’s lap was not how you envisioned spending your study session, but you were hardly complaining. The faint aroma of cigarettes and the sound of his racing heart should be distressing - a sign of danger, even - but you felt oddly calm. Your back was towards him so you were both facing the night sky as he asked, ‘Can you point out Andromeda for me?’

The feel of his hardening bulge underneath your ass had momentarily stunned you, and you stuttered trying to answer his question.

‘Just relax…’ his fingers caressed your exposed thighs comfortingly, slowly working their way upwards, meeting the hem of your mini skirt.

‘What are- shouldn’t we study first?’ You grabbed his wrist to stop his fingers going any higher.

When you said first, implying that you would be interested in having sex with him later, he felt his cock twitch. Finally, you were granting the opportunity for him to make you his. Luckily for the both of you, Theo was great at multitasking.

‘Tut tut, do you want to get better at astronomy or not?’

Well yes, but you couldn’t see how him touching you was going to help with that. ‘I-‘ you were cut off by your own whimper as you felt Theo’s fingers graze over your clit through your underwear.

‘Then let’s try again. Where’s Andromeda?’

At first, his fingers lightly circling your clit were too much of a distraction. It was obvious he had experience, because he knew exactly how hard to press to satisfy you but still keep you coherent. After a moment of getting used to the sensation, your brain was clear enough to answer his question so, using your finger, you traced the outline of the constellation in the sky.

‘That was correct, clever girl.’

‘Wait, really?’ you bounced up and down in excitement, making the boy underneath you groan at the feeling of you pressing on his hard cock. ‘How did you teach me to do that without teaching me anything?’

‘Your problem is you think too much. I thought if I helped you… relax, you’d be able to focus on astronomy a little better. Clearly, I was correct.’ Theo moved his hand inside your underwear and slipped a finger inside your wet hole. ‘Well done.’

Your mouth falls open at the feeling of his long finger deep inside your tight cunt, stroking your inner walls. As determined as you were to not be another one of his silly hookups, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny the pleasure he was giving you.

‘Fuck, doll, who knew a good girl like you would be this wet for someone like me.’

Theo’s finger teased you for the next twenty minutes as he asked you various Astronomy-related questions, which you answered correctly. He was right, you were clearly thinking too hard at something so simple, and his fingers pleasuring you rid you of all the unnecessary thoughts, allowing you to focus solely on the stars. Every now and then, Theo would increase the pressure on your clit or thrust his finger deeper, just to see you cut yourself off mid-sentence with a moan or a whimper induced by his touch.

‘Theo…’ you whined after answering a dozen questions about constellations, looking up at him. You were asking for something, but you weren’t quite sure what. Just something more.

He pushed a second finger inside you, curling them upwards into you slowly as his palm pressed against your clit. Watching you writhe on top of him and hearing you moan made his dick throb in his trousers, as he internally tried to decide between bringing you to your climax on his fingers first or just freeing his cock and fucking you raw right away.

‘Yeah, amore? You like being finger-fucked out in the open?’ he whispered, even though there was no chance of you being seen or heard by anyone at this time. His words went straight to your core and his previously slow pace started to quicken as he felt you clench around his digits. ‘Fuck- yes right there.’ you cried, feeling his long fingers hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

Not long after, he retracted his fingers, smearing your wetness on your clit teasingly before removing his hand from your underwear altogether. The new, empty feeling made you whimper.

‘Why’d you stop?’ you pouted breathlessly whilst you turned around in his lap, now straddling him.

Locking his eyes on yours, he brought the two fingers that were previously buried inside you to his lips and licked off all your juices. ‘So sweet.’ he muttered to himself, probably not intending for you to hear. ‘Because,’ he said louder, ‘I want to make you cum on my cock, if you’ll let me.’

Your eyes flick down to his now rock-hard erection, still trapped inside his trousers. ‘Yes, please…’

‘Atta girl… but first, let’s get these clothes out the way, shall we?’

You nodded frantically, tugging at the hem of his t shirt as he unbuttoned your blouse to reveal your tits sitting perfectly in a lacy white bra. ‘These are fucking gorgeous.’ he palmed them before reaching round to unclip your bra. ‘I can’t want to watch them bounce as I fuck you.’

He pulled away briefly to discard his own shirt before flipping you both over. How he revelled in the sight of you underneath him, all exposed and desperate. Theo knew that you weren’t like him; you weren’t the type to sleep around. He was honoured to be making you feel this good, and he wanted to make sure you had as much fun as he knew he would have.

After pulling off his trousers he guided your hand to his bulge, making you feel him through his boxers. ‘Can you feel how hard I am for you, amore? How desperate my cock is to sink itself into your pretty little cunt?’

He leaned down to give you a passionate kiss, his thumb finding its way to your clit. Your fingers found his waistband and tugged on it, indicating that you wanted him to discard them. He obliged.

Pulling away from the kiss, your jaw dropped as you saw his erection finally spring free, hitting his stomach. It was bigger than you could’ve imagined, and you suddenly found yourself conscious of how large he was in comparison to you.

‘Theo that is not gonna fit inside of me.’

‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ he yanked your skirt and your underwear down with one harsh tug, leaving you entirely on display for him. With one movement of his hips the tip of his cock found your dripping wet entrance, and he pushed it in it in ever so slightly. The stretch makes you moan; his cock was way thicker than his fingers. ‘See that, doll, your warm little cunt is practically pulling me in. I told you I know what’s best for you.’

Tugging at his brown curls at the back of his neck, you hum in agreement. ‘Please… I need you.’

‘I didn’t even have to ask you to say it that time.’ he grinned before he bottomed out inside of you making you cry out. A bulge was visible in your stomach where is cock was deep inside you, still whilst you adjusted to his size. ‘You okay, pretty girl?’ All you could do was nod, not trusting your mouth to form coherent words with the boy who was meant to tutor you buried to the hilt in your dripping wet cunt. ‘Words, please.’ he commanded as he grabbed your jaw to bring your face closer to his.

‘Yes I’m- I’m more than okay just please…’

‘Please what?’

‘Please fuck me.’ you said in a small voice, surprised at yourself for saying it outright. At your request he started to move, making you bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sensation.

‘Don’t hold back, amore. Your sounds are as cute as your face, I wanna hear them all.’

And with that he began to pound in and out of you, immediately picking up a harsh pace. His large hands pinned your wrists on either side of your head so you could make no attempt to cover your flushed face or muffle your breathy moans. He was no hypocrite either, groaning into your ear letting you hear just how much he was enjoying fucking you raw.

It was even more erotic than he’d imagined. He’d managed to turn a tutoring session with the schools resident good girl and turn it into a scene straight out of a porno. The sight of your tits bouncing as your tight, warm cunt took his thick cock was one he wanted engrained in his memory. Fuck, if you weren’t on a hard wooden floor he’d be tossing your little body around in all sorts of positions. And god, how he wanted to taste you; to suck on your sensitive little clit and lick up your sweet juices. The opportunity hadn’t arose in this particular occasion, but it only motivated him to get you in bed again.

‘You feel fucking incredible.’ he groaned, earning only a whimper in response. ‘Bet you couldn’t answer any astronomy questions now, hm?’

You shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut as he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. ‘N-no, I-‘ his pace didn’t falter as you felt yourself clenching around him, orgasm building up - if anything, it quickened.

‘Cos I’ve fucked you senseless, haven’t I?’ Although you could hear him, you couldn’t respond. His voice was muffled and your vision was clouded, your pleasure was so overwhelming, you couldn’t think straight. ‘You like going dumb on my dick?’

Theo could tell you were close, so he brought a thumb to your clit, adding pressure in circular motions. That’s all it took for your orgasm to come crashing over you. ‘Theo, I’m-‘

‘Do it. Let go. Cum for me.’

And you do. Just as he promised, you swore you saw stars whilst he fucked you through your high and chased his own. He didn’t slow down to accommodate your now increased sensitivity - his need almost became primal as his thrusts got sloppier the closer he got. ‘Gonna fill you up with my cum, doll. Real deep.’ he grunted in your ear, feeling his own orgasm building. The pressure from your tight cunt felt like heaven to him, but mostly it was the way you were looking at him that pushed him over the edge, like he’d just taken you places you didn’t know you could go.

You both moaned as you felt his hot cum spill into you, marking you as his. And you were his, now. He’d ruined you for anybody else; he’d moulded you to fit him perfectly.

After pulling out, he laid down on his side next to you, tracing mindless circles around your navel.

‘That,’ you inhaled shakily, ‘was amazing. Are you okay?’

His eyes, which had previously been fixed on the sight of his cum leaking out of your hole, snapped up to you. By the looks of it, people don’t normally ask him that after sex, and you immediately felt as though you’d said something wrong. That was, until you felt his hand cup your cheek. ‘Careful, doll, you’re really making me want to keep you.’

‘What?’ you roll onto your side to face him.

‘Nothing.’ he sighed in content. ‘I’m great, are you okay?’

‘Amazing. Same time next week?’ you attempted to joke.

‘Same time tomorrow.’

[snaileer]

I’m a Size Medium, Thanks - 2

Part one: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/766471879423885312/im-a-size-medium-thanks

Danny stares into the eyes of what has got to be the grumpiest looking 12-14?10? How tall are children?- year old he’s ever met. And he grew up with Sam!

Danny looks back through the door, hoping to everything that an adult walks through. He is disappointed.

“Well?” The boy snaps, foot tapping.

“Uh, can I help.. you?” Danny says, voice ticking up. That’s what you’re supposed to say at a job right? Or maybe the kid wasn’t supposed to be here, “Do you need to call someone…?” He hopes not, he doesn’t know how or if the shop has a phone, and his… well his is wired through a realm of the dead so enough said there.

“My name is Damian Wayne.” He says primly. And expectantly.

Danny looks outside again, past the neon sign he specifically hadn’t turned on, then back at the Damian kid, blinking. There’s no way this was that ‘Mr.Wayne.’

The kid rolls his eyes impressively well then drops his glare back onto Danny, “Has this absurd incense burned away whatever meager sense you were born with? I am here to have a so-called ‘reading’ with a medium.”

If Danny hadn’t seen this Damian kid walk in with three whisps of shades wrapped around his arms, Danny would have questioned why, but he did, so he doesn’t.

He does, however, say: “Aren’t you a little young… to be like.. talking about death or something?” Though honestly, the incense is a real concern, Danny hadn’t even lit any today, Claire had just left it burning and the whole room was saturated.

“Will you fulfill your job description or not, you peasant?” The kid grits out.

Danny would really rather not. Like really rather not. But nOoo, here he was, waiting for a portal that could show up at any time, pretending he was a medium for a 7 year old just because he could talk to ghosts.

Danny sighs and drags himself around the counter to go into Claire’s weird little seance room. Maybe the fumes will kill him before the embarrassment does.

The kid follows.

Danny drops himself into Claire’s chair with weirdly plush armrests for still being so uncomfortable.

“Alright then, let’s get this over with. I’m Danny, the -ugh- medium. Whatdya wanna know?” Danny says as he kicks his leg out to hit a shade getting agitated and grabby by Damian’s feet. They got way too much of a spiritual boost from this room for Danny to be comfortable with it.

Damian watches him with a raised eyebrow, still not sitting down, “Aren’t you meant to lead the seance?”

Danny’s lip curls in distaste, he huffs a sigh and lets his shoulders drop, opening his mouth to tell this 9-year old something easy about one of his shades and be done-

He spots a sticky note stuck on the crystal ball.

-Danny, don’t forget, the showmanship is important! I trust you know how to meet expectations! Happy first day!

- Claire <3

Danny feels his face go deadpan. He was going to have this woman committed. That’s what he was going to do. She could be studied for the degenerative cognitive effects of being freaking bazonkers.

Danny plucks the note off the crystal ball and crumples it, letting the trash drop to the abyss that is Claire’s plush carpet.

He sighs, looking back up at Damian. The kid snaps his head towards him from where he’d been poking around the curtained walls- weirdo- but Danny beats him to the snappy comment.

“You got any spiritually charged items? Or like… something?” Danny says, taking a guess, he can make the thingy glow, say some nonsense, get paid, and close.

Damian narrows his eyes at him, but slowly moves to sit in the other chair, perched on the edge of the seat. He pulls something from his pocket and sets it on the table.

Pearls.

It’s a clump of shiny white pearls.

Absolutely dripping in ectoplasmic blood stains. So lovely.

Does Claire have biohazard gloves because oh gosh-

Danny hesitantly reaches for the pearls, lifting the strand between two fingers as he looks between it and the 12 year old. “You sure this is what you want to ask about?”

The kid’s glare turns challenging, mocking, “What? Admitting you are nothing but a charlatan?”

Danny grimaces, “Not quite. I mean…” He looks at the pearls again, then at the shade trying to hack away at the kids neck, “There’s definitely someone or something attached to this it’s just… not .. yours.”

“Tt,” the boy clicks his tongue at him, “and how exactly would you know that, charlatan?” Damian levels a mocking look up and down at him.

Danny’s eye twitches as he grimaces a smile, “Part of the job-“ brat. Danny doesn’t say that. Danny can’t say that. Danny has to deal with death obsessed TODDLERS who want to talk about some rando’s gruesome murder just so he can eat tonight. Or find somewhere to sleep. He doubts this will be enough for both.

Maybe if he’s dramatic enough.

Alright get to it then, Danny.

He sighs, dimming the light with Claire’s little remote- he is not so far gone as to turn them green like she had- and actually focusing his energy on the pearl necklace.

“What are you-“

Danny holds up a finger at Damian to silence him, which surprisingly works. He closes his eyes and starts trying to absorb the vibes of ectoplasmic remains as slowly as he can.

Feelings of course come with it and- well what’d ya know, he can definitely feel this attached to a ghost somewhere in this city.

“It’s a woman’s… younger than she should have been when she…”

He can hear Damian scoff, “Obviously, anyone could tell me that.”

Danny rolls his eyes under his eyelids, debating the merits of opening one to glare at him when his eyes are definitely glowing.

“She’s still here but-“ Danny says instead, trying to pull on the connection wandering out into the streets, “She can’t come here here.”

“What do you mean?” The boy snaps.

Danny tries to focus harder on it himself, he’s never done this before, tried to find or communicate with a ghost from an object… it was like Pointdexter and his mirror.

“She’s stuck somewhere… somewhere more important.. it’s dark and narrow and Danny mentally rears back as images flash into his mind. Accompanied of course by a woman’s scream.

An alley. A gun. A man stepping in front of her to protect her- no not her- a kid- Damian- not Damian- looks like-

Danny opens his eyes and drops the necklace. There’s barely any ectoplasm left on it.

Fine with him, he never wants to touch it again. But yuck that means he absorbed it!! Oh ewwww-

“Well?” An impatient voice asks and- oh yeah that’s right, the rude ass kid.

Danny pushes the pearls across the table with a finger and looks up at him, “Woman in an alley, that familiar to you?”

Damian’s eyes narrow, “Anyone who knows who I am could tell me the same.”

Danny snaps, “I don’t-!“ This is a child Danny, a child, he takes a deep breath, “Well she was scared for the kid, and now is… proud of him? There’s a lot of concern there, but she still watches him I guess, so that’s all I got for ya.”

Damian scrutinizes him for a minute, silent. Darn, weren’t mediums supposed to be vague as heck so that anything could apply and the person would find their own meaning? But did it count if he was just translating the vibes off a shade half a city away?

“This is…. acceptable.”

Danny nearly sags in relief and moves to stand, “Cool, then-“

“Wait.” The kid holds up a hand, “You said something regarding a disparity in the proposed ownership of the apparition you believed to be related to this jewelry.”

Danny blinks at him dumbly.

Damian scoffs again, “That the apparition attached to this necklace was ‘not mine,’ as you said??” He snarks, putting air quotes up.

Danny slowly sinks back down into the chair. “… Well yeah I mean..” does he tell this 8 year old about the slightly murderous shades he’s got around him? “You have… you have a couple… apparations… yourself. Not related to the pearls that is.” Danny says hesitantly, eyes skipping over said shades.

Damian jerks his head to follow his eyes and Danny shirks back, eyes back on the kid.

“Who are they? Tell me now,” Damian demands, standing to loom over the table.

Danny puts his hands up in surrender, “Whoa, I don’t know about that, they don’t really seem too happy with you-“ Another one tries to slice his hand through Damian’s neck, “I think you did something to them or made them angry at some point. I don’t really think you should try to contact them-“ Danny winces, that could end very badly. Thank goodness for limited ectoplasm access.

Meanwhile, his answer seems to have only made Damian more upset, his eyes wide as he stares down at Danny.

Suddenly the kid turns and stamps towards the door, leaving Danny to hurriedly push the chair out and chase after him to the main room.

Except-

When he gets there Damian is already shooting hushed insults at a man standing amongst the crystals.

The man looks vaguely like Damian, black hair, blue eyes, lithe build, and oh also- surrounded by shades of course.

These ones seem less vicious at least.

Please don’t be here for him. Please don’t be here for him.

Danny really doesn’t want to try and fake his way through another hour or however long it’s been of that.

“Hey there! I’m Dick, Damian’s brother!” The man says suddenly, pushing Damian aside and coming forward with a cheery grin, “Thanks for humoring him!”

Danny tilts his head to see Damian’s scowling face behind the man. Right.

“Uh huh… I’m Danny.” He says, trying not to be distracted by what he’s pretty sure is a baby elephant’s ghost behind him.

“You’re the medium right? We were just so interested to see if that old family heirloom would have anything or not. We-“

“We?” Damian cuts him off with a scoff, “I will meet you in the vehicle Richard. I will not spend another minute in this house of charlatans.”

They both watch as the kid turns and stomps out the door, uncrossing his arms only to open the door and stomp out. The stupid bell rings merrily.

This time it’s not Danny who sighs.

“I wish he wouldn’t say things like that,” Dick says wearily, “I grew up in places like this.” There’s a note of nostalgia to his voice. Danny just eyes the bowl of ‘fertility’ crystals warily, what kind of place??

Dick must see him do it because he huffs a laugh, “I grew up in a circus originally,” he explains, “So psychic places always just kinda remind me of my auntie’s tents.”

Danny glances at the elephant shaped ghost again, “Wow that makes so much sense actually.”

The guy raises a confused eyebrow at him.

Danny coughs awkwardly, waving it away, “So, money?” He claps, “I’m guessing you’re paying since Damian is…” Danny trails off, opting not to make a final guess on age and embarrass himself.

Dick laughs again and they go over to the counter, “Yep, here-“ He pulls out his wallet, rifling through cash before pulling some out, “Cash only yeah? This should be enough.”

Danny stares at the stack of slightly rumpled bills, “But- huh?…” that was… that was so much…

“Oh I added extra since I’m sure he probably said some things he shouldn’t have, don’t worry about it.”

Dick is already halfway out the door when Danny reloads and jerks upwards, “Wai-“

Could Danny really stop him? Should he? He needed this money but… he stops to count it. $20..40..60..80..100..120….140……160….180……….$200.

Danny blanches. He lurches for the door, no way he can take this much money just for basically acting as a glorified ecto-translator.

Danny stops in his tracks as he steps outside the shop and spots Dick and Damian speaking to a third, much older person, over the hood of a sleek black car.

This person, of course, also has several, several, shades around them.

What the hell was wrong with this family?

Damian turns and glares his way.

Oh ancients what if they were part of the mob or something.

Danny spins around on his heel-

And smacks straight into the glass door of the shop.

…

Ow.

Danny rubs his nose as he fumbles around for the door handle, acutely aware the death covered family was probably staring at him.

He grabs the handle and pulls-

Danny freezes, hand on his sore face stopping. He opens his eyes as he yanks again. Nothing.

Oh heck, he just locked himself out didn’t he?

No please no, they were so definitely still staring, no way they weren’t. Danny pulls again and it finally-

He looks at the door handle in his hand.

Then at the door still closed in front of him.

Then back at the door handle.

Just the door handle.

Crap.

Danny nearly weeps, clumsily fitting the door handle back on and still adamantly refusing to look and see if Damian and his absurdly rich family has left yet. Other people on the street are also starting to stare. The same reason he can’t just use his powers.

He finally gets the handle back on and gingerly lets go of it.

Ok. Deep breath.

Claire warned you about this. With a sticky note, but all the same. Extra key is taped on the bottom of the fire hydrant right outside the shop. You’ve got this.

Danny turns, kneels, and frantically begins trying to find the key on the absurdly dirty fire hydrant.

His hands come away black with grime, but thankfully he has the key.

He puts it in the lock and turns it, hearing what may very well be the newest sound of his nightmares: a snap.

Most specifically the sound of the key snapping in Danny’s very hands.

Danny stares at the half of the key still held between his fingers.

Did he do something to this city? Was this his fault? Could he not just sit in a closet and wait for the portal to open and go home?

Danny sags against the door, and resigns himself to his fate. Maybe he can go get food… with the money he left on the counter. Great.

Danny peeks his eyes sideways and catches the guy, Dick, finally getting into their car.

Okay, just a tiny bit just a bit. Danny holds the key again, focuses on the lock in the door jam and….. intangible!

He yanks the door open and jumps inside, door closing against the flutters of quickly fading shades on the street.

And more than one scream at them but hey that’s not his problem.

Mostly.

Danny revels in the cool lighting of the shop, glaring at the stupid broken key in his grimy hands. He drops the useless bit of metal on the counter, pockets the cash and wipes his hands on the backside of one of Claire’s million wall curtains.

It leaves a black stain that basically disappears when Danny folds the fabric over it.

Oh well.

Technically the shop was still open.

And technically, Danny didn’t know if the lock did or didn’t work right now.

He moves to find whatever storage closet Claire used to store her absurd number of crystals.

He finds it- finally- and using the keys he left in the store to begin with, he is able to unlock the perfect place to sleep tonight amongst several packages of…. Some kind of incense powder… or something. He doesn’t really care because that plan of hiding in a closet till the portal opens? Yeah, Danny’s putting that into action right the frick now.

He bends down to start to lay out his sweatshirt over the cardboard bed-to-be.

A bell rings in the distance.

Danny is going to destroy that bell on the door, he swears it.

[petew21-blog]

Homophobic gym teacher, part 2

I was almost afraid to go to sleep after fucking Jake last night. He went off back home with a sore ass. No wonder when Mr. Mills’s dick is so huge, he’s extremely hung! I am now, hehe.

So yeah, I was afraid that we might switch back. And guess what?! Fuck yeah we didn’t. Shut, I’m already thinking more swear words than before, guess that must be a side effect of being in Mr. Mills’s body. Or of having such a huge body!

Oh man, I freaking love the pecs. I don’t know if I’d rather keep this body or be someone else to enjoy this body from a different point of view. It sure is a big change from my regular body. I wonder how Mr. Mills is doing in mine. Screw that idiot, I’ll enjoy a lot of him today at school. Gotta start the morning right first!

I pulled the briefs and set free my new manhood, already semi-hard

After enjoying a nice jerk-off session, for the first time in my life just appreciating my body, I went to the shower to clean myself off.

I have to find a way to stay in this body, this is something that I just can’t give up.

I stood naked in the bathroom, watching my reflection. Doing poses. I got a bit curious. I searched and found a tape measure. “Let’s see how big you really are.” I jerked it a bit to get hard again, which didn’t take me long. “Holy shit… Daddy is hung!”

Suddenly my phone vibrated. Unknown number. It was a text from Jake.”Are you still him?”

I called him on facetime. “Sup fag.”

Jake:”Dude, you’re still in his body! That is so amazing!”

Me:”How is your ass?”

Jake:”Hurts like hell, but definitely worth it. I can’t wait to see you again.”

Me:”We gotta be careful around Mills and others, ok?”

Jake:”But what if I’ll be too horny? I tasted blood and I want moooore!”

Me:”Can’t get enough of these bad boys?” I said and flexed.

Jake:”Oh man. I wanna tell everyone that Mills fucked me. Wait… is that tape measurei n your hand? You dirty bastard. So how big is it?” Me:”Almost nine freaking inches! Crazy right?!”

Jake:”Yeah, my ass agrees.”

A text from my number came:”Pick me up in 15 minutes”

Me:”Fuck, it’s Mills. He wants me to pick him up. He probably wants to talk about what we’re gonna do at school.”

Jake:”Dude, you’re gonna have to teach!”

I froze. Fuck, Mills is a teacher. Yeah, he teaches PE, but he also teaches healthcare sometimes.

Me:”What am I gonna do? I don’t know anything that Mills does. What if they figure it out?”

Jake:”Don’t worry they won’t. They’ll just think that Mills didn’t sleep well today.”

Me:”Ok, maybe he’ll tell me what to do. See you soon.”

Jake:”See you, daddy” Jake responded, winking.

I looked at myself in the mirror. So far I could only enjoy the fruits of this swap. Now came the hard part. Pretending to be the other person.

I saw my muscles again. God how beautiful I am now. Like a Greek god. I flexed my biceps and snapped a photo for later.

Time to head out.

I picked up Mr. Mills already waiting at the curb in front of my house looking frustrated.

He got in the car without saying anything first.

Mills:”Just drive”

Me:”Where? The school doesn’t start for another hour.”

Mills:”I’ll tell you how to pretend to be me.” he said in a bored, emotionless tone

Me:”Are you ok?”

Mills:”Of course I’m not fucking ok. I lost my hot body to an alien student. How the fuck do you think I feel?!”

I stopped the car. This crossed a line. “Look. I’m not the one who caused this, but if you’re gonna keep on with that racist bullshit, I’m gonna destroy your life, understand? Not only will I get you fired, but I’ll make you a gay pornstar. Besides, do you see you muscles? I’ll beat your ass. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but you’re not caucasian now, so maybe all of this is just a lesson for you to be more empathetic. So do not tempt me! Understand?!”

Mills had fear plastered all over his face. No one probably threatened him in years. He responded quietly:”Understand.”

I kept on driving. We stopped at the parking lot in front of school. I gave him some brief info about my classes and told him to mostly stick to Jake, not to stand out and not to swear. He then told me what classes he had today and for the healthcare lessons he instructed me to play a movie. Easy. We decided to meet afterschool in the gym. We’d try to switch back.

He left the car right after Jake arrived. Mills looked puzzled from my monologue before and Jake probably noticed. They were walking towards school. Jake turned his head at me and winked. As a reward I flashed him a biceps flex and smiled.

The PE was pretty easy. I just used a whistle, kept on encouraging them and tried not to scream. Some of the students that were usually scared to even enter the room looked more comfortable today.

But the healthcare classes started horribly. The first class was supposed to be about healthy diet and exercise. The movie that Mills recommended wasn’t available, so I had to improvise. Then I figured I could turn this around. I picked four guys in the class who I knew were gym rats. I took off my shirt and started flexing in front of them. I instructed one of them to come and point at the muscles and the class had to name the muscles. How interactive of me, right? Maybe I should consider being a teacher. Most of the class was amused and I even saw one girl taking a quick photo of me.

I thought that everything went smoothly, until I was called into the principal’s office. Yes, me. As Mr. Mills.

I entered the room.

Principal:”Hello, Carl. Sit down, please.”

I did as instructed and watched the principal unsure what was about to happen.

Principal:”Carl, I’m gonna give you one last chance ok.”

Me:”What do you mean?”

Principal:”It’s one thing that you’re screaming at the students, calling them out for their sexual orientation or personal beliefs. I even protected you when the students came to tell me you were hitting on the older students. But today a student came to me to show me a photo of you, shirtless in the class, showing off in front of them. What were you thinking?”

Me:”We were supposed to talk about exercise. I felt that showing the groups of muscles would be interactive and motivational.”

Principal:”That’s not how the mothers of these students will see it. They think you are preying on them. Begging me to fire you.”

Me:”I don’t know what to say.”

Principal:”Don’t say anything. Just don’t make me do the worst. This is your last chance. Leave.”

I left the office feeling kinda bad and angry at Mills. Hitting on students at school? What was he thinking? Yeah I fucked Jake last night, but that’s something different. I’ll have to be more careful from now on.

I met Mills at the gym. We tried recreating the moment, but besides a few bruises, nothing happened. Mills even cried for a moment.

I suggested that he could show me how to work out in his body so that I would maintain his routine. This seemed to get him excited.

Working out at the gym was pretty easy. This body is really strong and used to all of this. It even started to feel good and fun, as if exercising regularly didn’t have to necessarily be painful and boring.

Mills left to go to the bathroom. I snapped a quick photo after posing in the mirror.

Mills:”We said no photos!”

Me:”Yeah we did, except you’re posting these superficial gym photos on your Insta every day. So I figured if we don’t want to let others know about this…”

Mills thought about it for a while and then took the phone from me. He added some hashtags and edited the photo.

We didn’t go to the shower and headed straight to the car. I took him home. We sat quietly in the car for a moment.

Me:”I got a warning from the principal today. He said that it’s your last chance for all the hitting on students and my failure today.”

Mills:”Screw that cocksucker. He thinks he knows what he’s doing and he doesn’t. Maybe just lay low before we fix all of this.”

Me:”Fine, ready to go? I think my mom wants to do quesadillas today. So you better go and help her out.”

Mills looked nervous all of a sudden

Me:”Everything ok? You don’t like Mexican food or what?”

Mills had tears in his eyes again. “No, the food is amazing. And your family is really nice. I am a bit jealous to be honest. My family is broken and we don’t talk to each other. So this is really nice.”

Me:”Ok, I am actually glad you get to experience that. So why the tears?”

Mills:”I… I can’t speak spanish. I don’t know what they say to me most of the time…”

I laughed it off and told him the most common phrases that the González family uses the most. He felt relieved when he found out that it’s a bit repetitive and left the car.

I arrived at Mills' house. Finally alone. I didn’t even take off my clothes soaked from the sweat after the workout. I just entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. I even used the cold water this time! I took the shower head all the way to my face and let the water run down all over my body.

The shirt soaked in the water and soon became transparent. My nipples struggling to pierce the fabric. The wet shirt hugging my frame was a nice touch to the feeling of being big and bulky. I still can’t believe why Mills wouldn’t just stay at home all the time and just appreciate his body. I would.

I placed the shower head back and took off the shirt.

Releasing my imprisoned pecs. Finally being able to feel them and touch them. My dick was getting hard again just after the simple touch alone. I took a bit of shampoo and washed my hair, massaging my scalp. After that I leaned my head backwards and just let the water do it’s thing. I thought about jerking off right there, but maybe waiting for Jake would be better.

I got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist and texted him.

“Hey, is your ass ready for another round?”

Jake:”Sorry, daddy. Family dinner. Can’t make it tonight.”

“Dude, we don’t know how long I have left in this body. You’d just waste it?”

Jake:”I know… but you know my parents. And trying to come up with an excuse for visiting my teacher in the evening is not really strong against them. Sorry”

I threw the phone on the couch

“Ok, so what now.” I looked around the room. Not really happy that I’d be alone here tonight.

Maybe I don’t have to be…

I downloaded Grindr. Set a profile picture. Sure, but some people might know who MIlls is. Maybe just his chest will work. I found some briefs in the bedroom and approached the mirror. 

“Yeah this is good. I’ll edit the head out.” Maybe I was being too soft on Mills, but I kind of didn’t want to cause too much trouble for him. Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t screw around in his body, but fuck it. A MAN has needs. And I surely am a really BIG one now.

I set up the photo, maybe revealing a bit too much.

But the messages kept flowing in. I could choose someone! Me! I tried Grindr before, but I guess my blank profile wasn’t exactly popular at the time. Now, everybody wanted to fuck me.

I decided to pick one guy. Hot body, twink, young, not too far and has a car. I texted him the address and waited. I remained just in briefs before he arrived and rang the bell at the front door.

I went to open them. To my surprise, my bully Alex stood there. Alex was shocked just as I was.

Alex:”Oh. I think I have the wrong address. I am so sorry, Mr. Mills.”

I didn’t really want anyone to know about this, but nevermind. There is no going back. “Alex, wait. The address is ok. Come in. I won’t hurt you.” I invited him and asked him to go to the living room.

Even with all of these muscles, I was still just a scared little nerd, that this guy in front of me would beat me up. But this time he acted differently. Oh right, that’s because he’s afraid of Mr. Mills. And now, he went for a hookup and to his surprise his teacher opened the door. I know he’s rethinking whole life right now.

Me:”You want anything to drink, Alex?”

Alex:” Ehm.. ugh… no I, I think I’m ok. Thank you.”

Me:”So Alex. By your profile I suggest you’re a bottom, if you were honest?”

Alex:”Yeah. No. It was just a joke. I have a girlfriend. I should go.”

Me:”Oh come on. I won’t tell anyone. I can be discreet. Only if you can be.”

Alex:”I can.”

Me:”Then there is nothing to worry about. Is it?” I said and leaned in closer. Jesus, it’s my second day of being in my teacher’s body and I was already on my way to sleep with a second student of mine.

We started making out on the couch. Our tongues twisting in our mouths. My hands wrapping around him as I felt his hands travel onto my stomach and my chest. Playing with my new pecs. My dick got hard and it was pretty obvious to Alex, who immediately got his hands on it. 

Me:”You like it?”

Alex nodded and I saw the lust in his eyes.

Me:”Wanna take all of this to the shower?”

I picked him up from the couch and carried him all the way to the bathroom. Turning on the red light and hot water. The combination of these things must have worked, because Alex stripped himself and immediately started worshiping my muscles.

Me:”Call me daddy”

Alex:”I…”

Me:”Call me daddy and tell me what you want from daddy.”

Alex:”I want your… dick. In my mouth… daddy.”

I put my hand on the top of his head and pushed him on his knees, shoving my dick into his mouth. Gently, but still with a bit of a force. I started thrusting as Alex wrapped his lips around the head of my shaft. I pushed so hard that he started gagging. But I could see in his eyes that he was finally happy. I pulled him back up by his hair and arm.

I turned him around and pushed him against the wall.

Me:”Be good for daddy and say that you want me to fuck you.”

Alex:”Fuck me, daddy!”

I squished a bit of lube that I conveniently got ready before, into my hand and put my fingers into his hairy ass. I found the prostate and started going in and out, making him moan out loud.

I pushed in my dick and wrapped my hand around his throat from behind, suffocating him a bit. With my other hand, I helped myself get fully inside and then I pulled his head back by the hair. My thrusts were smooth, but fast. Soon, Alex was screaming and moaning. I made him call me daddy several times after that. And for the first time in my life I shot my load on someone’s face.

Alex left that evening happy and finally satisfied. I asked him again for discretion and went off to sleep.

The next morning started off exactly as our second. We still did not swap back. I picked up Mills and we headed to school. But this time, the principal invited me to his office before the classes started.

He did not look happy.

Principal:”I am truly sorry to tell you this, but I have to let you go.”

Me:”Why? Is it the mother of the student?” I immediately thought that this would be about last night with Alex

Principal:”Look, I told you that you have one last chance. Unfortunately, most of the parents signed a petition to let you go. My hands are tight on this matter.”

Me:”Sir, but you said that all will be forgotten if I…” Principal:”I know what I said. I’m just saying that there is tension right now and it is easier for me to let you go. This petition was started by the González family after you verbally attacked their son during lessons. But many parents signed as well.”

Fuck. Now I was the one who got him fired.

Shit. What do I tell Mr. Mills?

Part 1:

Part 3: coming soon

[spicyspiders]

turn me inside out

Mark Grayson x male reader smut

4.9k words

Quiet evenings were a thing of the past when dating a superhero.

Warning for bottom male reader, sex pollen, armpit kink, scent kink, sweat kink (kind of?), rimming, deepthroating, anal sex, and slight cum inflation.

What you thought would be a quiet afternoon quickly changed at the sound of a helicopter drawing closer and closer to where you were. It wasn’t the weirdest thing to see helicopters flying overhead given the world you lived in, but it wasn’t every day that one landed right in front of you. 

You shield your face against the wind, struggling to try and peak through to see who is approaching. Your hands fell from your face as the blades slowed down, watching as the head of the GDA got out. 

“Cecil Stedman of the GDA,” he said, flashing his badge, “you need to come with me.”

You knew who he was, but it wasn’t from the numerous articles about him on the internet, but from Mark. And from how Mark talked about him, he sounded like a no-nonsense type of guy. 

“Am I in trouble?”

“We will be if you don’t come with us,” Cecil responded, and when you looked at him full of confusion, Cecil clarified, “it’s about Invincible.”

You tried your best to not show on your face how the mention of his name affected you, even if everything in your body was telling you to run to him. “What about him?” You asked, trying to keep up the facade. 

Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “we know Invincible– Mark,” he said his name quietly, like he was afraid someone would overhear, “is your boyfriend. Now,” he said, the helicopter’s blades already whirling back to life, “get in.”

“Donald, fill him in,” Cecil said to the man in the seat across from yours. 

“Yes, sir,” Donald said, waiting until you were settled into your seat before he spoke again, “Seven hours ago, Mark returned from an off-world mission. He came back with an unusual,” he glanced over at Cecil, “side effect.”

“What do you mean by side effect?” You asked, looking between the two men.

“We kept him overnight to conduct research, and what we’ve found is that we need your help to cure him.”

“How can I help?”

“You’ll see when you get there,” Cecil answered, “he’s been asking for you nonstop,” he said as he looked out the window, “he’ll be excited to see you.” Which didn’t sound ominous at all. 

The helicopter ride turned into a private plane ride, making the journey to The Pentagon shorter. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or bad with the lack of information Cecil and Donald gave you. 

“What’s this?” You asked, looking at the bag in the seat next to yours. 

“We didn’t have time to get clothes from your house, so we brought you some of ours,” Cecil answered. 

Your head snapped up to look at them, “you were in my house?”

Cecil let out an annoyed sigh, “I just said-”

“We didn’t go to your house,” Donald answered calmly, trying to defuse the situation. 

“How do you know where I live?” You asked as you opened the bag. 

“We looked in your file,” Cecil answered like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“My file,” you parroted. 

“You’re dating one of the strongest superheroes on Earth, of course we have a file on you,” Cecil replied. 

The clothes in the bag were a few pairs of underwear, what looked like sleepwear, and in the side pocket was a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. Looking through the bag did little to help your confusion. With what was in the bag, it looked like you were being kidnapped to have a sleepover at The Pentagon. 

“What is this?” You asked, frustration more than evident in your voice with how cryptic they were being. 

Cecil let out another sigh, “listen,” he started, “all of your questions will be answered when you see Mark,” he said, placing a comforting hand on your knee, “right now you should get some rest before we get there.”

“Okay,” you whispered. Maybe Cecil wasn’t as bad as Mark made him out to be, you thought to yourself as you forced yourself to sleep.

You didn’t know how much time passed before Donald was gently shaking you awake, but it felt like you were barely able to get any sleep. 

You’re led down through a facility that by the fifth turn through the same looking hallway, has you confused about how Donald and Cecil can make their way through it without a map. It goes from hallways to elevators, Donald and Cecil taking turns on who has to swipe their identification card to get in. 

“Almost there,” Donald says as he presses one of the buttons, flashing you a tense smile.

Your hand tightened around the bag’s handle as you tried to calm your nerves. Though the setup felt oddly similar to when you first spent the night at Mark’s place, just with fewer elevators and hallways, something in you felt wrong.

”Mark is just through that door,” Cecil finally said as you approached two doors. In the middle of them was a small table with a metal bin on top, “empty your pockets into that.”

Your hands shake as you place what belongings you have on you into the bin, Donald giving a small, “thank you,” before he takes the bin back down the hallway. 

“Where are you-”

”He’s taking it to a safe environment,” Cecil answered, cutting you off. 

“So you can plant spyware on me?”

”We already have that on you.”

”Of course you do,” you responded with a roll of your eyes.

Cecil mumbled something under his breath as he walked up to the other door beside the one he pointed out, the words sounding a lot like, “I can tell why Mark likes you,” but you weren’t quite sure. 

“Before I can let you see Mark,” Cecil said as he turned the knob, “I need you to take a shower.”

”I’m not dirty,” you responded, unsure whether to be offended or embarrassed.

Cecil held up his hands in surrender, “we just want to control the environment as much as possible to keep you both safe.”

“The environment is my body,” you replied angrily, “Mark’s body,” you shook your head, “we aren’t a science experiment.”

“You technically are,” Cecil responded, before quickly adding, “I know how it sounds, but we’re still learning. What we have learned is a way to calm Mark down.”

“Me?” You asked, feeling slightly calm now that it seemed that Cecil was opening up. 

“You,” he answered with a nod. “While he was off-planet, something affected him and his powers– heightened his senses. That soap in there,” he nods over to the bathroom, “will clean you in a way that Mark will smell you without all the extra scents you wear or pick up during the day.”

“It’ll help him? You asked, looking Cecil straight in the eye. 

“It’ll help him,” he answered. 

Your mind still reeled with questions, but you took what you could get. If you knew there was anything you could do to help Mark, you would do it. 

It felt odd to wash your body that barely had any smell to it, but at least it had a lather. You watched the soap go down the drain as you tried to calm your mind, your hands moving across your body on autopilot. 

Though it lacks a smell, the soap leaves you feeling clean, your fingers nearly pruned by the time you turn off the water. You pull the clothes on from the bag slowly, trying not to grimace at the thought of there not being any deodorant you could find in the bag. When Cecil said you needed to be clean, he meant everything. 

At least the toothpaste with the toothbrush in the bag had a nice minty flavor to it. You wiped the steam from the mirror with your other hand, coming face-to-face with your nervous eyes. Before you pulled on the clothes you were given, you took a few deep breaths, trying to force yourself to relax. 

You approached the door that connected the rooms slowly, your hand coming to rest on the cool knob. You let your forehead rest on the door, counting down in your brain as you get up the courage to open the door. 

Between seven and six, you hoped Mark would just open the door himself and tell you that everything was okay now, but as the numbers kept going down, you had to face the fact that that wouldn’t be the case. 

You repeated the number one over and over again in your head, and after what felt like the hundredth time, your hand turned the knob. 

You open the door slowly, nervous about what you will find. It made you feel crazy because you knew it would be Mark, there wasn’t anything you needed to be nervous about. Or so you hoped. 

Mark was pacing on the other side of the door, looking at any moment his feet would go straight through the floor. He looked… not quite like himself. 

“Mark?” You whispered, the man jumping at the sound of your voice, “were you waiting long?” You asked when Mark turned to face you. 

Out of all of the things your brain had come up with when you finally saw Mark, what you didn’t expect was for his face to crumble and for him to come racing over. He collapsed into your chest, letting all of his weight fall onto you. 

You fell back into the door with a grunt, Mark’s arms wrapping around your body protectively. You spent what felt like hours against that door until you both calmed, your breaths synching. 

It caught you off guard, your body going tense for a moment before you reflexively wrapped your arms around Mark. You ran your hands down Mark’s back, his body practically vibrating in your arms with untapped energy.   

Mark nuzzled into your neck and let out a hum of contentment, the vibration rattling your chest when he let out a louder one when you ran your fingers through his hair. You felt the tip of his nose run across your neck, puffs of soft air hitting the skin. 

“Are you,” you started, pausing when Mark angled your neck to give him more room, “sniffing me?” You asked.

“Smell so good,” Mark murmured, his lips dragging across your skin. 

“I don’t smell like anything,” you said with a small laugh. 

Mark pulled away from your neck, looking as if your words had offended him, “you smell like you,” he said, a crazed look in his eyes. 

“Okay,” you responded as Mark sat there, waiting for you to respond, “I smell like me.”

Satisfied, Mark nodded before he closed the distance between your mouths, pulling you into a slow kiss. Though it lacked any heat, you were more than happy to let Mark have his fill, responding readily to it. 

“What’s going on, Mark?” you asked, turning your head when Mark instead tried to initiate another kiss. 

“Nothing,” Mark responded, a smile stretched across his lips when he moved his hips forward, his already hard cock nudging your hip, “just needed to see you.” You were surprised you missed that, especially given that the only thing Mark had on was a thin hospital gown. 

“I can tell,” you responded humorously, gasping softly when Mark moved his hips forward again. “This isn’t usually where we meet, though,” you said as you looked around the room. It looked rather plain and empty with just a bed, a nightstand, and a small table with a single chair. It was much different from your room or Mark’s. 

You had to admit though that with the level of surveillance that you were under here, it would feel similar to the few times you’ve been in Mark’s bed at his house. Or, so you assumed. On your way here, you passed by what felt like dozens of cameras, and those were just the ones you could identify. It wasn’t like Mark’s house had cameras, but there was always a level of risk there knowing that at any moment, Mark’s mom could walk in. 

“Mark,” you whispered, “are there cameras in here?”

Mark grunted in reply, his head ducking back down into your neck to this time run his tongue across the skin. He moaned into the skin, his hands tightening on your body as he pulled you even closer. 

“Mark!” You hissed, trying your hardest to stifle a moan as his tongue ran over your pulse point. 

“No,” Mark answered, “yes– I don’t know,” he pulled away from your neck, his eyes flicked over your shoulder to the door before he looked over to the other one, “knowing Cecil, probably,” he added before swooping forward into another kiss, one you couldn’t dodge. “But right now I don’t care,” he said against your mouth, the look in his eye making you shiver.

Mark flew you the short distance to the bed, barely giving you time to hang on. You knew Mark wouldn’t let you fall, but it still managed to startle you, “Mark!” You yelled as he picked you up, before what felt like a second later, your back was on the bed, “warn a guy next time!”

“Sorry, baby,” Mark whined, “can’t help it,” he said, his hips driving down. He pulled away after one last thrust of his hips, tearing the thin hospital gown to shreds. 

Mark’s hands moved under your shirt, mapping out the skin he had long grown familiar with. He licked his lips as more and more skin became exposed before he ducked down to get his mouth against it. 

Mark swiped his tongue up your chest, groaning as he licked up the moisture he found. You weren’t able to tell if it was water you had missed from your shower, or if you had already started sweating. 

It was a nice temperature in the room you were in, not too cold or hot, but it wouldn’t surprise you if you had already broken out in a sweat. Just being in Mark’s proximity tended to do that to you. 

Mark’s skin ran hot against yours, his hands a hot weight on your skin as he held you down to the bed. His hands tightened along your hips when his tongue dipped into your belly button to swirl around the sensitive skin. 

“Mark,” you gasped, not knowing whether you wanted to get away or stay in place as the ticklish feeling washed over you, “feels weird,” you said, trying to bite back the laugh you felt bubbling up. 

“Sorry,” Mark breathed as he pulled away, his saliva already starting to cool. It left the trail of hair leading into your pants matted to your skin, Mark looking grossly satisfied at his work. 

A flash of nervousness runs through your body as Mark tugs at your clothing, afraid he is going to rip them off like the poor hospital gown. It wouldn’t be the first time Mark has ripped your clothing to get you undressed. 

You brought your hips off the bed to help him out, Mark flashing a grateful smile your way as he pulled them down your legs. When his hands moved to your bunched up shirt below your chin, he leaned down to press his lips to yours. 

You pulled away from the kiss with a laugh, “it’ll be easier if you take this off,” you said. 

Even though he nodded in agreement, Mark moved back in for another kiss, before finally pulling away when he tried for another and his lips came in contact with your shirt. Once it was finally out of the way, Mark tossed the shirt to join your pants.

You kissed lazily until you were at full hardness, making you feel for Mark. He must have been like this for hours. He moaned into your mouth as your hard cocks met, Mark’s leaking from the head messily as you rutted together. 

Precum was normal, of course, but what had gotten onto Mark from that other planet must have caused him to act in this way. What had gone from normal, had been taken to extreme, one of the examples of that being the way his cock leaked like a faucet. 

Mark pulled away with a groan, his breath mingling with yours as he took a moment to catch his breath, “can I try something?” He panted.

“Anything,” you responded, not caring as long as his cock stayed pressed to yours. 

With one last lingering closed-mouth kiss, Mark slowly moved down your body. You whimpered when his hips moved from yours, Mark surging back up to press a kiss to your lips in apology. Once he had kissed the pout from your lips, Mark continued on. 

Higher than you expected, Mark came to a halt, one of his hands going to your elbow to lift your arm. You held your breath as you looked down, watching and waiting. 

You gasped when Mark moved forward, not at all expecting his tongue to come into contact with your armpit, “fuck, Mark. That’s so–” So what? Gross? Hot? You didn’t know what to call it. All you knew was that Mark seemed to enjoy it, if the sounds he made were any indication. 

Mark’s other hand went to your other arm, lifting it towards the pillow in preparation for where he would go next. 

On your thigh, you felt Mark’s cock twitch before you felt a drop of precum hit your skin, smearing into the hair. Was this why there was no deodorant in the bag for you on the plane? Did Cecil know that Mark was going to spend more time than you expected licking over the skin until he managed to get up all of your sweat?

“You okay?” You asked Mark when he moved to the other one and stayed in place like he was frozen. 

Wordlessly, Mark nodded, nose buried within your armpit hair. You jumped as his breathing became heavier, the gushes of air ruffling the air. And like from earlier, you had to bite your lip to stifle a laugh you felt bubbling up as the stimulation ticked you. 

Slowly, Mark moved away before coming face-to-face with you, his pupils blown wide. Gone was the crazed look from earlier, and instead Mark’s face looked blissed out and overcome with pleasure. 

Just as slowly as he had moved away, he moved forward, giving you plenty of time to push his head away. It wasn’t like you were going to, even if his face had just been in your armpit. The salt on Mark’s tongue almost tasted the same as the salty taste on yours the last time you sucked him off, the thought making you groan as Mark’s tongue went deeper into your mouth. 

“Wish you could taste how good you are,” Mark whispered, “how good you smell,” he said after another kiss, “how good you feel,” he said, bringing your hips back together again. 

He made his way back down your body in sections, starting at your nipples. He swirled his tongue around one before biting it into a hardened point. You buried your hand in Mark’s hair when he moved to the other, the mix of pain and pleasure from his tongue and teeth sending waves of ecstasy through your body. 

Next, Mark licked down your body, cleaning up the mess his cock leaked out onto skin that hadn’t already dried, paying no mind to his own bitter taste. He dragged his nose as he went further, going right through the thatch of hair at the base of your cock. 

Mark groaned at the musky smell, the vibrations rumbling from his chest. Once he finally reached his destination and sucked your cock into his mouth, another followed suit, this time vibrating straight through your cock. 

“Mark!” You moaned as the suction, right off the bat, was nearly too much. Your back arched off the bed, your body moving closer for more.

Mark whimpered at the sound of his name, pausing to take your cock deeper. His throat was wet and tight around your cock, the wet walls of his throat clenching as he fought against his gag reflex to take you deeper. 

You grabbed for Mark’s face when tears sprung from his eyes, pulling him back up your body. “Easy, Mark,” you said as you wiped through the tracks, “don’t hurt yourself,” you murmured, wiping your thumbs across his face slowly. 

Mark opened his eyes as he rested his face in the literal palm of your hand, his tears making his eyelashes clump together, “want you to cum in my mouth,” he said softly like the heat of the moment had caught up to him and he was afraid for you to hear. 

“I will, I will,” you said, smiling down softly at him as he turned his face to press a kiss to your palm. 

Mark stole a soft, salty kiss before he went back down. He took you as deep as he could, and what he couldn’t take he wrapped his fingers around. He set up a fast, wet rhythm as he bobbed his head on your cock, his fingers slick around the base. 

Mark pulled off with a wet pop, his hand moving to the tip of your cock to give him ample room to work as he sucked one of your balls into his mouth. You groaned at the feel of not only his mouth, but at the feel of his hands as he slowly stroked you from tip to root. 

Moved onto the second, Mark’s hand moved achingly slow as the tip of his tongue licked the sensitive skin. He pulled away with a slick pop as he pulled into lungfuls of air, watching as you fell apart under him. 

“Don’t tease,” you pleaded.

“M’not teasing,” Mark replied, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Especially when he pulled his hand to his mouth and his tongue came out to lick up the bead of precum that had leaked onto his fingers. 

Once your cock was back inside the hot cavern of his mouth, it didn’t take long for Mark to get his wish. Your orgasm raced through you, punching out moans from your throat as your stomach clenched around the pleasure you had felt building there. 

And like the taste of your cum made Mark have his own orgasm, he moaned loudly around your cock as he drank down the cum that shot from the slit of your cock. 

You yanked at Mark’s hair when you could feel overstimulation begin to creep in, trying to pull him off as he continued to suck you off for all that you were worth. Your hand fell free when Mark finally pulled off, your cock giving a small twitch of interest as you watched Mark lick his lips satisfyingly. 

You opened your mouth when Mark flopped down beside you, his still hard cock rubbing against you, “what about–” you started to ask, only to be cut off when Mark kisses you. 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you breathe. 

Mark lets out a hum of contempt as he runs his hands all over your body, “you are,” he sighs. You weren’t really sure how you being one orgasm down while he was still rock hard was satisfying, but you suppose you shouldn’t complain. 

Legs tangled together, you kiss until you’re nearly hard again, aided by Mark’s fingers as they dig into the skin of your ass cheeks to bring your cocks together. He pulls away momentarily to open one of the drawers to the nightstand, bringing a bottle of lube back with him.  

You turn onto your stomach in anticipation, waiting to hear the telltale sound of the cap opening. Seconds later, you instead feel soft kisses being pressed to your back. 

“Not yet,” Mark whispers into your ear, making you shiver. 

If he was going to make you wait, you might as well get comfortable. You curl your arms around one of the surprisingly soft pillows on the bed, waiting to feel what Mark is going to do next. 

Mark kisses down the knobs of your spin, down down down until he reaches the small of your back. You’re practically shaking by the time Mark grabs both of your ass cheeks and spreads you open. 

Your moan is muffled into the pillow as Mark licks slowly along your crack, his tongue only a faint whisper against your hole. It grows louder when Mark finally finds his, well… mark, alternating between broad strokes and pinpoint dips inside.   

Mark moans as he spears you open on his tongue, the sound going straight to your cock. His strong fingers dig into your skin, massaging the flesh below his hands. When you clench down his tongue, Mark’s fingers nearly tighten to the point of pain, but a sick part of you hopes– wants Mark to go past that and leave a trace of himself on your skin. 

Mark pulls away, but just far enough to spit on your hole, one of his fingers coming in quickly to press it inside slowly. Lax from his tongue and your first orgasm, Mark makes swift work preparing you with one finger, and soon after, a second is joining the first. 

On the first brush to your prostate, your back arches, your now fully hard cock coming into contact with the bedspread. You push your ass back as Mark scissors his fingers, groaning into the pillow at the slight burn. 

Mark lays a kiss on each cheek as he moves his fingers in and out before he licks inside, between his two fingers. 

You moan at the combined feel of Mark’s tongue and fingers, your cock throbbing when a third joins the second, knowing exactly what was about to come. As you adjust to his three fingers, your ears pick up on the sound of Mark’s lubed-up fist around his cock and his harsh pants behind you. 

Mark pulls his fingers free slowly, your hole clenching around nothing momentarily before the wet head of his cock was replacing his fingers. His body hovers over yours, arms beside your shoulders as he thrusts inside in one steady movement. 

You both groan when Mark bottoms out, his hips coming to rest against your ass. Marks lowers himself down, his body laid out over yours as he lays kisses across the back of your neck. 

You crane your neck to the side, Mark already knowing exactly what you want as he presses his lips to yours. As his tongue presses past your teeth, Mark circles his hips, your hole clenching around his cock. 

“Ready?” Mark asked, pulling away from the kiss to lick up the sweat on the back of your neck. 

“Yes yes yes,” you chanted, pressing your ass back, even if all you came into contact with was Mark’s hips. 

Mark pulls out slowly until just the head remains inside before thrusting right back inside. It only took just that one thrust for Mark to pick up his rhythm, fucking you into the bed on each thrust.

The smack of skin-on-skin rang loudly through the room, accompanied by the groan and creak of the bed below your combined weight. If there truly weren’t cameras in the room, it wouldn’t matter because if anyone even stepped down the hallway you were in, they’d be able to tell exactly what you were up to through the door. 

Shamelessly, you pushed back into Mark’s thrusts, fighting off the ball of pleasure you could steadily feel grow larger and larger on each one. 

Mark panted in your ear, moaning to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moved one of his hands below your body and between your legs to wrap his fingers loosely around your cock. 

You moved your hand to cover Mark’s, instead of pulling his fingers down to wrap around the base. You tightened your hold around his fingers, hoping that Mark would get the gist that you were trying to last as long as you could. 

When your hand fell away, so did Mark’s. Your mouth opens in protest, but as if Mark could read your mind, his lips were there on the back of your neck, kissing the skin softly in the form of an apology. His fingers moved down your cock and past your balls to press his fingers into your perineum, inner prostate stimulation meeting outer prostate stimulation. 

You cum with a shout, stars exploding behind your eyes as they roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

After a few more stuttered-off thrusts, Mark cums. His cock goes in deep, and his cum goes in deeper, making a mess of your insides. Mark sobs through his orgasm, his arms wrapping tightly around your body to hold you close. 

Mark rolls you over onto your side, his body curled protectively around yours. He ran his hand softly across your stomach, right on top of where his hard cock was still pumping you full. 

“How do you feel?” You asked, your voice rough. 

“Good,” Mark replied, tangling your legs together, “tired,” he murmured. 

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you said, clenching down on his cock. 

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, “could say the same for you,” he said, wrapping a hand around your hardening cock. 

“Do you think it rubbed off?” You asked, reaching behind you to grab Mark’s ass when he rolled his hips forward. 

“Let’s find out,” Mark answered, nipping at your neck. 

[fixated-cookies]

im kinda thinkin about.... hypnosis and smilk.... smth abt the process specifically of taking over and invading your mind.. slowly giving into it even if youre resisting the effects its having on your mind, its inevitable that he'll win and you'll succumb to his control and influence over you... your mind may be foggy, but it's so perfectly empty and moldable now... what were you doing again? do you even care?

smth about being unable to look away from his eyes once he starts it; even if you look away, something will draw you back, and it gets stronger as it goes on... at first, you can physically turn away (though you'll get dragged back by some invisible force), but eventually you cant even rip your heard away from his gaze. smth about it being unable to be stopped by anyone other than himself once he starts it... no matter how far from you he is (as long as he's well... in sightline)

honestly you can like. think abt this in any context you want . i just.... really like the concept of hypnosis with him..... its captivating to me (hah) .... sorry for the essay in your inbox damn

Anon the reason why this was rotting in my askbox for so long was because I needed to give it justice hahaha, hypnosis is totally in character for someone like shadow milk cookie, and I love it.

WARNING- slight yandere, hypnosis

Hmm, I'm wondering how it would start, he would obviously make it a game, maybe a game of truth or dare, hm? Just a little bit of lollygagging to get rid of his boredom.

So, when he asked— “Truth or Dare?”—

You made the horrible mistake of choosing dare.

His grin widened, all teeth.“Ohhh, you’re feeling bold tonight! How delightful! Now, let’s see…” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. You should have been nervous. You should have backed out. But you didn’t.

I dare you… to look into my eyes and not look away.”

Simple, right?

You almost laughed. Thats its? Thats all?

"Ah-ah, don’t look so relieved~! There’s a catch, of course. You must hold my gaze until I say you can look away. Break eye contact, and you lose."

You scoffed. What was he playing at? You weren’t afraid of a staring contest. Getting into position you held yourself steady as he looked overly excited.

For a while, it felt like a normal challenge. You stared, he stared, and time stretched between you both. But then… something changed. The air felt thicker. Your body heavier. You blinked once. It felt like it took longer than it should have to open your eyes again. You swallowed. Something felt off.

Your limbs felt distant like you weren’t quite inside your body anymore. You tried to look away—But your head wouldn’t move. "I...I-" "Tsk, tsk… You’re not trying to look away, are you? Ohh, but I can see that dazed look in your eyes already… how precious!" He started to scoot closer. Not fast. Not abrupt. No, he took his time, savoring the way your body twitched ever so slightly. How your breath caught, your fingers tightening into trembling fists against the floor. Your head refused to move. Your body felt so distant, like a marionette with cut strings, a doll that could only watch as its puppeteer inched nearer.

Your vision wavered, the edges blurring as if reality itself was losing focus. His eyes were all you could see. How could this happen? you were so sure he didn't have...any malicious...intent—huh...? What was going on...?—No, you hadn’t! You had to resist, you had to—"Mmm, that’s a good look on you… so unfocused, so lost…" He suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

You blinked, but the action felt slow, heavy, like your body was moving through water. You knew—somewhere, deep down—that this was wrong. That you should snap out of it. But… that was so difficult. Thinking was… so hard. Your lips parted, but no words came out. Only a quiet, dazed sigh.

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled, only for it to falter as your eyesight ripped away from him violently, a frustrated groan escaping you as you squeezed your eyes shut out of defiance. "Oh? You still have some fight left in you?" His voice slithered through the air, a mocking lilt woven into his amusement. How predictable. How pathetic. Impossibly close now, his presence, looming, suffocating—but when his hands cupped your cheeks, you knew there was no escape. His palms were cool, but his grip was unyielding.

"Really now, I thought you were smarter than this." His thumbs trailed lower, brushing over your lips with featherlight strokes. "Oh, my dear, sweet fool…" His voice dipped into a breathy murmur, mismatched eyes drinking in every flicker of your resolve. "...I wonder... how long will that last?"

His grip on your cheeks tightened—just enough for his thumbs to press against your skin, coaxing you, urging you—until your lashes fluttered. A sliver of light slipped through.

And the moment your gaze met his—

The air in your lungs vanished. And oh, how he grinned.

"Mmm… there it is."

His voice was nothing but a purr, smooth and saccharine as he drank in your struggle. His grip softened, shifting to cradle your face so delicately—as if he hadn’t just crushed your resistance in the palm of his hand.

"Much easier when you don’t fight, isn’t it?"

His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his tone mocking, indulgent—but there was something darker beneath it. "Go on, little puppet…" His breath ghosted over your lips as his mismatched eyes pulled you deeper, deeper, deeper. "Be good for me, yeah?" He murmurs lowly Before you could even process it, his lips were on yours—slow, deliberate, consuming. A kiss meant to unravel, to claim. His fingers pressed gently into your skin, holding you there, grounding you— or perhaps, chaining you.

And when he finally pulled away, he didn’t need to command you to look at him this time.

Because you already were.

A single finger tapped lightly against your forehead as if to mock the emptiness settling in. His victory.

"See? Much better when you don’t think."

--

you guys, rate my hypnosis writing I need it!! These ideas are just sooo juicy.

[janus-cadet]

So, hm, I may have my attention span stolen by yet another god of Discord. Lux was absolutely amazing in his lil disguise, and, well- that leads to yet another tarot card.

But oops, I tripped! There might have been a slight addition to the card, in the form of three other gods of the Pantheon, and one very distressed Doctor.

(Don't be fool, I'm sure he's having a great time. We know how much he likes dangerous murderous people, especially the blondes one)

Why the Five of Wands, tho? Well, that's actually very easy to answer- because that's The card for Discord. What else than the Pantheon to represent it? It's a card that express conflict, as in, you're un the midst of a battle (poor you, Doctor) that you simply can't escape. Don't expect to solve it with nicey dialogues and come to any common ground: everyone is stuck on what they want and cannot be bothered to hear what the others have to say. Maybe they simply couldn't be bother to care, vast beings that they are; all the more frustrating, because you know that if you could have them hear you out, much good could come from an association. It's complete chaos and disorder, from the whole human race driven mad by a giggle, or an entire theater of missing people. All you can do is rise above the mess; if they won't listen to reason (or a proposal to go play among the stars, which may or may not be due to your inability to be normal about blond murderers), then, you'll have to take action. You have to try to LISTEN. If you really do, well- you might actually find a surpringly nice end to the conflict you brought. Looking at you, Toymaker. Gonna make you eat your "and yet", idiot.

The card also stands for change and instability, which is the very thing those gods stand for- as shown by the effect they have on your reality, and the consequences they can bring upon your world. Tho the change, sometimes, can be positive; every transformation is not from flesh to dust. Maybe, sometimes, you'll get to turn into infinite light or something (if you're lucky and don't end up eaten by your own piano, or origamied into your own realm made small). All in all, this chaos is ultimately the source of dreadful inner conflict for you. Your perspective is constantly challenged by someone else, by new informations, and your approach to the growing problem cause you a tone of moral dilemmas.

Unfortunately, it does not look like it's going to get better for you, Doctor. Oopsie!

And there we are, for the eleventh Doctor Who tarot card of the lots! To think that this all started with wanting to draw the Masters, and now, I'm sixty cards in. We're nearing the end....

[allovesthings]

In my opinion, the butt jokes are incredibly incredibly tired.

So here are several fun facts about Dick that you can use for comedic effects/running jokes instead:

His hatred of Capes. Listen we are talking about Dick wore a yellow cape for 9 to 10 years in universe Grayson. The moment he changed his costume, he straight refused to ever wear a cape again, the only time he had to wear one, it was as Batman and it was very very frustrating for him.

You know that when he watched the Incredibles with Lian and Roy or Damian and Edna Mode came on screen with her hatred of capes, this was his reaction:

Someone else finally understand him. She instantly became his favorite character.

His tendency to put unknown substances/evidence in his mouth and being able to identify it by taste and his knowledge of what Heroin taste like (yep still not over it).

It's both impressive (the fact that he can actually identify something by taste alone is impressive) and gross and even his closest friends don't understand why he is the way that he is, Do we think it's the Bat training or do we think it's just Dick (tm)... I feel like it has to be just Dick, right ? considering everything in Gotham is a toxin of some kind ? How many heart attack do we think he gave both Bruce and the Titans with that ?

Dick Grayson namer of superhero things: Listen, I just learned that Dick named the Arrowcave and now I just kinda love the idea of a running joke that every time a classic superhero in contact with Robin has a goofy name for something superhero related, it probably comes from the 9 year old superhero who thought it sounded cool.

The Titans are never letting that go and Dick doesn't want to talk about it (but he secretly still really like the names, they were cool when he was 9 and pretty practical when you think about it, thank you very much).

Everyone has a crush on him (tm): Honestly it is pretty funny that everyone and theirs entire family have a crush on Nightwing (and also pretty consistent canon since Raven in ntt). The reaction of the batfam is annoyed because that's gross, it's Dick, theirs brother/son, and the Titans are amused (Donna, Vic, Garth and maybe Wally) or maybe sorta part of the people who have had a crush on him (Kory obviously , Roy, Raven).

You do need to be careful with that, but I think if you do the opposite of what DC is usually doing, you'll be fine.

Also you can also includes the disastrous first date with supergirl in that. She also had a crush on him and they date was so horrible that he considered changing superhero identity because it was so embarrassing (truly one of the greatest plot-point on Superman/batman world finest honestly and this series is genuinely my favorite modern/current series)..

His petty side when he doesn't like someone: Listen, Dick has a petty side, ask Helena circa Outsiders (2003), Talia (always), Jason circa the late 2000s (Morrison era) and Azrael (also always). When he doesn't like people but has to work with them, he is going to be a little shit because they have to know he doesn't like them. it's important. and the comedic potential of Nightwing, one of the most competent, known and admired hero of the community being so petty is excellent. 10 out of 10, I need him to work with someone he hates again just for the fun of it.

The last one is just an headcanon and do not have basis in canon as far as I know:

Sometimes, as an adult, Nightwing says Holy shit in front of a classic superhero and that superhero does a double take because they are so used to him saying Holy goly batman (and that include Batman).

[defmaybe]

Sparks

12 Days of Christmas: Day 3, December 27th, 2024

tripleS’ Kim Yooyeon x Male Reader

4.2k words

Christmas Masterlist

A/N: Some gaming reference.

—

You couldn’t care less about Kim Yooyeon.

But she won’t seem to let you out of her sight.

—

It’s Christmas Eve. Taylor Swift’s Sparks Fly blares around the house. A bunch of drunk college students are surrounding you, as you’re playing Balatro on your phone, trying to beat the gold stake, the top one. A cup of beer sits by your side.

Your friends are out there trying to win a woman’s heart with their charms, with the help of alcohol and such. You couldn’t care less. You already have video games as your companion. It’s always like this: you’re always on your phone at social gatherings, talking to nobody.

What’s the damn point of coming here, then?

“Hey.”

A voice shakes you. You look up from your phone to find Kim Yooyeon in her Christmas costume—a strapless red and white dress. She looks good, but that’s not enough to pull you out of this damn fun card game.

“Hey, Yooyeon,” you greet her, before going back to hitting another flush on your phone. What is she even doing here?

“How are you?” She takes a seat beside you, one leg on top of the other. It’s revealing, but you’re not giving to it.

With eyes still focused on your phone, you answer her, “I’m good, thanks.”

You hear her sigh, and you realize that you forgot to ask her back. How rude of you!

“How are you, Yooyeon?” you ask her without pouring much care into it. She lets out a short exhale, amused by your nonchalance.

“Pretty good. Just finished my finals this afternoon,” she replies, leaning closer towards you to see what you’re playing. You can see that her dress is slightly revealing. “Ooh, Balatro~”

You let out a chuckle. What’s the possibility of someone like her playing the same game as you?

“Yeah, you play it?” you say, eyes still focusing on the screen.

“From time to time, yeah,” she answers. Her voice is calm, unfazed by the loud music.

You have never gotten the appeal of Kim Yooyeon to the other people around you. Not that you don’t appreciate her, it’s just that you couldn’t care less about this woman. She’s an activity student, taking part in the school band and playing football. She’s damn good as a left winger, according to the other guys. Her duty is cutting inside and scoring or–what’s the word?

Assisting.

You’ve never watched a single game.

You, on the other hand, are a full-time gamer. You stay in your room almost all the time, immersing yourself in the gaming world. You’ve played it all: Elden Ring, Slay the Spire, both parts of The Last of Us, and now Balatro. Talking to people just isn’t your thing.

“Have fun,” she finally says, noticing the gap between you and her, and she walks away into the party, enjoying the music again.

“See ya.” Your eyes didn’t even leave the screen when you said it.

—

The night rolls on. You’re frustrated at the game. You’ve died in the fourth ante for the third time in a row. Fuck! You reached the seventh ante once earlier in the night!

“Bad luck?”

Yooyeon comes back to you. You swear she looks different from an hour ago. She looks… prettier. Maybe it’s the effect of those damn alcohols. You can’t sway for now.

“Y–Yeah,”

Yooyeon then sits down on the chair beside you, one leg over the other. The view’s inviting “Wanna turn off the game and walk around?”

You shoot her a small, polite smile. “Thanks, but I’d rather be here, really.”

“It’d be fun,” Yooyeon persuades. “Might be better than keeping losing to the gold stake.”

She won’t let up, won’t she?

You let out a sigh. “I’ll go out when I’m ready, Yooyeon.”

Yooyeon chuckles. “Come see me when you’re ready~”

And you start a new run, so damn determined to beat this stake.

—

Your efforts prove fruitless, as you’re getting wrecked by the bullshit boss blinds again and again. Your builds just keep getting wrecked by these fucking bosses.

“Fuck.”

New run, new run, new run.

You hear a small giggle from the back. It’s Yooyeon, again.

“Ready to head out?” asks Yooyeon, thumb pointing towards the partygoers hollering behind her.

You groan in displeasure, frustrated by your defeat. You finally have to accept her invitation.

“Sure.”

You get up from your chair despondently. “Lead the way, Miss Kim.”

She lets out a childish giggle. “Alright, we’ll go to the kitchen. I have something for you~”

What could it be?

Yooyeon then leads you to the kitchen, sauntering. Her hips are swaying seductively. Her red and white Christmas costume is hugging her curves a little too well, and you wish you could just tear it off and start eating–

Where did that come from? Control yourself!

You walk through the murmuring crowd. Some of them are whispering to each other. They’re probably wondering what could’ve a star winger been doing with a nobody like you. You’re a bit tense by the onlookers. But with Yooyeon in front of you, it feels–weirdly calming.

You two finally reach the kitchen. She opens the fridge door, bending down to grab an egg. Her meaty thighs are all there for you to see. Her butt makes a slight contact with your crotch gently. Your breath hitches a little, but you can’t let her know she affects you.

Against the counter, she breaks the egg. She drizzles the white part of it out into the sink, leaving the yolk intact. It hasn’t broken yet.

What is she going to do with it?

She then chugs the yolk into her mouth. Your breath hitches slightly. Does every athlete have this crazy diet?

She turns back towards you. The yolk is still inside her mouth. She’s walking to you, swaying her hips, balancing the yellow blob with her tongue. Fuck, what an image.

“Y–Yooyeo–”

She grabs onto your face with both of her hands, pulling your face closer to hers, pressing you down, making your knees bent. You get a scent of her intoxicating perfume. She smells so good. Her thumbs push your mouth open, before she passes the yellow yolk into your mouth, intact. Your heartbeat speeds up. Your breathing quickens. Your hands tremble. You are everything but sure of what is happening.

Fuck.

You stare nervously into Yooyeon’s eyes, who seem satisfied with her result, making you a shaking mess with a yolk inside your mouth. She’s smirking. She’s rejoicing in this. Her hands are still gripping on your face tightly.

The yellow substance rests on your tongue idly. It tastes so fucking weird, but you can’t just spit it out so damn easily. You’re trying your best not to break it, but it’s fucking hard when you’re a shaking mess like this. You stutter out moans and moans with it inside.

You slowly stand up straight, slightly towering over her again. Although, with the smirk she’s having on her face, and the grip she has on your face, she’s holding the upper hand here.

She then opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue slightly, signaling you to pass the yolk back into her cavern. You close your eyes as you do so, letting out a shaky hum. It drifts from your mouth to hers. The earthy taste of it lingers—raw, pungent.

Yooyeon lets out a giggle with the golden blob in her mouth. It’s opening slightly. Her right hand lands on your back, forming an embrace, drawing stuttered whimpers out of you.

You’re lost in the sensation of her touches. Her left hand caresses your cheeks, even plunging her salty thumb into your mouth. You suck on her finger like some common whore. Her right hand travels under your belt. She’s grabbing your bulge softly. It feels so good.

Again, she then forces your mouth open with her fingers, before carefully lodging the yolk into your mouth. You try to receive it gently. You’re doing your best not to break it, but it’s hard when you’re under Yooyeon’s spell like this.

She plays with the tent in your pants eagerly, doing her best to make you lose control. She smiles wickedly before unzipping your pants, giving her a hole to play with your boxers. God, you feel like a toy for her, and that feels utterly divine.

You can feel that it’s starting to grow runny within your mouth. It’s going to break, but you can’t just let it happen! Yooyeon, please open your gorgeous mouth!

Like a saving grace, Yooyeon parts her lips slightly again. Shaken, you pass the amber blob back into her cavern. She accepts it with a hum, still caressing your caged cock eagerly. She lets out a satisfied hum in response to the yolk within her mouth.

You watch as the golden yolk rests on her tongue. The image is nothing short of outlandishly vulgar—every twist of her tongue, every squeeze of her hand. She’s so good at this.

She decides to toy with you a little more, inserting her slender fingers into your mouth. You accept them gleefully, so fucking ready to suck on her fingers like a bitch. You feel so good, so joyful, being her little man-whore like this. You’re so ready to be used by her like a personal fucktoy.

Her right hand digs under your boxers. She’s grabbing your cock now! And she’s fondling your balls like she owns it (she owns it). Her dexterous fingers are making you want to moan like a bitch. You let out an uncontained whimper at her touch into her fingers, looking weakly into her eyes. She has all the power over you now, and you can do nothing about it but to let her use you.

Again, she pries your mouth open with her fingers, opening hers along with yours. The yolk becomes visible again. Your turn.

She deliberately tilts her head down as you lower your knees to level yourself. The golden blob rests on her lips before it slides into your mouth.

A soft cry leaves you as the egg finds its place on your tongue. The sensation is unreal—the pungent taste of the amber ball, her fondling on your cock. You can cum right here and now, coating her right hand with your white, viscous nectar.

You slowly straighten yourself, towering over her once again. The power she’s holding over you remains. Both you and her know that she’s in control here. Her eyes bore straight into yours, making your legs shaking with anxiety. 

There’s a hint of strawberries on her lips. She’s barely touching you on the mouth. Her breathing stays steady, as if she’s not at all affected by this. Her right hand is still squeezing your testicles in a consistent rhythm, enough to keep you stay obedient under her.

The egg enters your welcoming mouth. It feels so fragile inside you, and you’re struggling to control it. You feel weak. You panic. Your body trembles in anxiety. Is it going to–

The yolk breaks.

It explodes inside your mouth. Yellow liquid leaks out of its thin shell. The earthy, pungent taste fills your mouth, and you hear Yooyeon giggle, still groping your cock. Your eyes flutter at the overwhelming sensation. It feels so–full. Your head falls backwards, and the yolk leaks out of your parted lips, leaving a yellow trail in its wake on your face, on your shirt, and on your pants.

“Slut.”

—

The baby blue bedroom is barely lit. There’s a Bringing Out the Dead poster on the wall to your right. The owner probably likes Scorsese, you guess. There are Carly Rae Jepsen vinyls displayed on the shelf on your left—Emotion, Dedication, The Loneliest Time. God, the owner has some taste! The room smells of spring. It was taken care of well.

You lie on the soft bed, pliant, as Yooyeon presses you down with her entire body weight strongly, kissing you. Her legs are straddling your thighs, capturing you in place. You have no escape, but it’s like you’d do a thing right now. Yooyeon captures your lips in a fervent kiss. Her tongue pierces into your mouth hungrily, letting out a content hum as she does so. The taste of the yolk and alcohol still lingers in her breath.

Her hands find themselves on your face, holding you in place for the kiss. Her hips grind on your crotch in an erratic rhythm, and that makes you moan. She feels so damn good on your cock. You’re struggling to thrust up towards her still-clothed cunt. You feel so restrained like this.

She then pulls back, panting, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips for a split second before it is torn off by the distance. Her hands move down to your flat chest.

“Nasty little slut,” Yooyeon sneers.

You let out a submissive whimper at the demeaning name. This feels great–her hands on your chest, her heat on your crotch, her vulgar words piercing your ear.

“Playing so damn hard to get, aren’t you?” Yooyeon continues. Her grinding grows harsher, making you stutter out whimpers. “Tell me I didn’t get this abs just for you to ignore me in the hallways.”

Her garment is pulled up, showing her firm muscles underneath. Your mouth opens wide in awe. She looks damn delicious. Jokes on you for not looking at her midriff when she wears those alluring crop-tops. You reach out to touch her, feeling the contour of her abs. She groans in satisfaction.

“Fucking whore.” Yooyeon laughs wickedly. Her head falls backward in ecstasy as she ups the ante on your crotch. Your body writhes in unbridled pleasure.

“Oh, I haven’t finished The Last of Us. I’m stuck at Radahn. I’m close to winning Ascension Twenty,” she mocks you. Her assaults on you are violent. You whimper again. What a slut.

“And now you’re touching my abs like some whore,” she scoffs. Her words are searing through you, but your arousal only heightens with the demeaning words. Her breathing seems to quicken with your touch.

Your mind can’t register anything around you anymore, so lost in the haze of her conquest and her degrading words over your body. You’re so lost that you don’t notice her hands unbuttoning your shirt, slowly revealing your out-of-shape body—should’ve hit the gym more often.

In a quick motion, she continues stripping off your body. She pulls your pants down to your ankles as she scoots slightly backwards on the bed. Your erection is visible under the boxers.

“Haven’t been using him a lot, have you?” she asks with an evil grin, fondling your cock gently.

“I–I’ve–ngh–had sex b–before, Yooyeon,” you stammer.

“Slut.” 

She then slips your boxers down. Your cock springs free from its fabric cage. Her eyes sparkle with wonder. She loves your cock, and she just can’t wait to impale herself with it.

Hastily, she takes off her gorgeous red-and-white top. What a waste. She looks so pretty in it, but that thought is immediately replaced by the view of her toned body. You stare at her in awe. Her pert breasts are on full display, brown nipples already erect, just for you to–

“Mmm, suck on my tits like that, bitch.” Her words spur you on. You keep tasting her nipples like your life depends on it. You keep alternating your mouth between both sides, kneading the other with your free hand. Her aroma is an aphrodisiac to you—pungent, raw—and that only makes you grow more ferocious under her.

Feeling fulfilled with your sucking, Yooyeon pushes you onto the bed with a thud upon landing. You groan in the absence of her breasts inside your mouth.

“This is the part where you’ll be fucking my cunt,” Yooyeon orders, as she stands up on the bed, taking her panties off. The sight is nothing short of perfectly depraved. Her frame looks even more appetizing towering over you, but sadly (or not), you’re not the one in control here.

Her undergarment comes off easily, and now she’s holding it. She’s looking at it, contemplating, before a light bulb in her head is switched on.

“You want this?” she asks, lowering her panties close to your nose. You can smell the raw aroma of her cunt. It’s so hypnotic.

You nod sheepishly, and she grins wickedly before pressing the cloth onto your nose. Your air becomes the bewitching scent of her pussy. Your inhales grow deeper, wanting to take in all of her smell. She’s musky. She’s tart. She’s making your brain go haywire.

You hear her laugh mischievously. Her eyes are darkened with pure desire. You couldn’t have asked for a better situation to be in right now.

“Keep it on your nose while I ride this cock,” Yooyeon orders sternly. You nod, her panties still on your face.

She then slowly lowers herself. You feel her wet heat hovering above your throbbing manhood. Her red and white skirt covers the nice view, but you’d argue that it’s hotter this way, with her panties on your nose also and all. Your breathing grows even more erratic. So does hers. Her hands find purchase on your chest, almost drawing blood from you. It hurts, but you couldn’t give less fuck about it.

The first contact between your cock and her cunt makes you two form a cacophony with your moans. She welcomes you with such tightness that makes your eyes flutter in ecstasy, while your size stretches her cunt out so wide that she moans.

“Goddamn–shit! You’re so fucking big!” she shouts, eyes looking into the ceiling. Someone is going to hear that, even with these thick walls.

She goes even deeper on your cock. You two groan in pure bliss as she impales her cunt with you. Pleasure shocks through you like electricity. The sensation that’s hugging around your cock is just so unreal. Her eyes point towards the ceiling. She’s really enjoying this.

“You feel so much better than my dildo, holy fuck!” Her words only serve to heighten your arousal, making your body quiver even more, as she sinks down on your cock. She’s going to reach the hilt.

And you feel it, her warm ass touching your balls. She’s at the hilt. You’re fully inside her. Her eyes flutter. Her body spasms. Her moans stutter.

“F–F–Fuck, goddd,” cries Yooyeon. She’s loving your cock. She stays there, savoring every second of your cock inside her entrance. She’s sitting on your lap.

“Y–You know, I’ve been waiting on this day for so f–fucking long,” she says, still gripping on your chest tightly. Her face flushes. “I’ve been doing a lot to make you look, you know?”

“Well, I’m look–”

Yooyeon cuts your train of words with a finger inside your mouth, silencing you. You know what to do: sucking on it like a whore. 

“Should’ve known that all it takes for you is an egg.” She lets out a chuckle. “Slut.”

You say nothing, just smiling with joy, not resisting her finger inside your mouth. The sensation pooling in your crotch is burning.

She slowly lifts herself off your cock, the feeling tells, despite her short skirt covering the act. Her breathing grows erratic, and so does yours. You and her cry out in pleasure, eyes fluttering. It feels so good.

And she impales her cunt again. The two of you groan deeply in pleasure. Her thighs ripple against yours.

“Mmm, yesss,” Yooyeon moans.

She finds her rhythm, lifting off of you, slamming her hips back down, and repeats. Your whole body feels electric, welcomed by her tight, wet cunt that grips your cock like a vice. The feeling of the friction on your length is nothing short of ecstatic. Her panties fall off from your face to the side. Her aroma is gone, but you won’t complain.

“You goddamn slut. You love my pussy, don’t you?” Yooyeon scoffs, wrapping her hands on your throat. You can barely breathe, and it’s driving you insane. She grins, and that looks so fucking frightening, but also–hot, somehow. “Bet I’m so fucking wet and tight, gripping your cock so good.”

You can only nod sheepishly to her questions, before she tightens her grip around your throat even harsher. You can’t breathe. You’re making gagging sounds. You’re so damn happy. It’s so goddamn pleasurable.

“Better breed me to make up for that time lost, understand?” she orders, and you just nod along with her words again.

She lifts her hands off your throat. It’s nice to finally get some air again. She picks up her pace on your cock. It becomes reckless now. You’re letting out guttural groans and whimpers, and she’s rejoicing in your pleasure.

Her motions become turbulent. Your cock is now sore from all the riding she’s doing. Still, you’re more than happy to let her use you like this. You’re more than happy to let her own your little ass.

She sucks a sudden, before uttering, “G–Gonna cum.”

“M–Me t–too, nghhnn.”

“Don’t you dare fucking cum before me, alright? I don’t want your cock to go soft before I squirt on this–” she then wanders her hand over your willing body, feeling every single curve and contour she can find, making you whimper “–little body of yours.”

Yooyeon giggles, before ramping up her pace. She plunges her fingers into your welcoming mouth once more, and you’re sucking them like a whore. She lets out grunts and groans, bouncing on your cock. The friction on your cock is just too pleasant. Then, there’s the smell of her body, now slick with sweat. You’re too happy to take it in. She’s pungent. Your eyes are fluttering from the overwhelming sensation.

She lets out a fair bunch of profanities, mostly calling you a slut (which you’d happily admit you are). Then, there come the signals. Her body spasms. Her walls contract. You can just feel it.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.”

“Wh–Wha–”

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She arches backwards, showing off her toned abs. A torrent of liquid sprays out of her cunt onto your stomach. Her body writhes on top of you before collapsing into your embrace. Her loud, aggressive groans fill your ear.

“Wh–What a good f–fucking cock,” she mutters with any of the energy she has left. Exhaustion catches her, but you can’t stop now. It’s your turn.

With your remaining stamina, you thrust up into her sensitive cunt. Both of your moans form a cacophony that fills the room, along with the sound of flesh slapping into each other.

“Goddd~” Yooyeon groans. You’re hammering into her with reckless abandon. Her body vibrates with each of your thrust. “I’m not letting you cum outside, slut. I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

She then inserts her fingers into your mouth again, to which you’re happy to suck on them like you’re her slut (you’re her slut). Your hips are still pumping your cock into her.

And it comes, the impending doom, the storm. The familiar feeling is building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum inside Yooyeon!

“G–Gonna cum.”

“C–Cum inside me, cum inside me,” she orders, eyes staring into yours. She wants this. She needs this.

And you break. Your whole body quivers. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of cum into her pussy. It twitches and twitches within her. Yooyeon bends forward to capture you in a deep kiss, piercing her dexterous tongue into your mouth. Her hands grip onto the sides of your face tightly. The lewd sound of the kiss fills your ear. Fuck, this feels so good.

The orgasm slowly dies down, though still leaving a lasting effect on your cock that’s twitching inside of her. Yooyeon pulls back from the kiss, finally. A string of saliva connecting your lips can be seen. She pants, looking up at the ceiling. Sweat runs down her face. She looks so ethereal in the afterglow.

“Fuck,” she utters, unable to catch her breath. Her breathing is still out of rhythm.

You can only smile, watching her almost naked on top of you like this. It’s a sight.

Yooyeon then collapses down against your body. Her skin is slicked from all the sweat from the fucking. You can feel her fast heartbeat on your chest. Your cock is still buried deep inside of her.

She then drags herself off of your now-flaccid cock. You groan at the sensitivity you’re feeling. She only giggles at you in response.

“Let me go to the bathroom first, and maybe, maybe, we can go for another round,” she says, before getting off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom. She strips out of her short skirt on the way, finally giving you the view of her plump ass you’ve been craving.

It’s going to be a long night.

—

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC The Witch and The Ghost

On the subject that came up in my recent post, in my head, Sam and Danny are constantly having beef with each other. But never seriously.

The thing is, Danny has a lot of issues with a lot of things. He is not dead and not alive and then somehow both at the same time. He lives with parents who literally hunt him for sport, even if they are shit at it. His godfather is another can of worms that he refuses to touch entirely. On top of that, there's school, and occasional bullying, and hormones acting up, and ghost problems to deal with.

Which is why Danny is frustrated most of the time. He does a good job at keeping it at bay and not snapping at people for the tiniest inconveniences - partially, it's because he knows that his mild snapping can possibly leave the recipient frozen in a block of ice and humans are prone to hypothermia.

So, Danny is putting a lot of effort into staying reasonable and calm. And he is doing a good job at it!

And then, there's Sam. Sam is used to arguing with her parents at any given moment over literally anything. Sam is an activist who can and will insist on coming out victorious out of any fight she picks at, be it the choice of a salad dressing or discussion of global warming. Sam has opinions and is not afraid to share - more like enforce, actually - them. What's more, Sam is liminal, and she can withstand a lot more blunt ghostly force than any other human being.

Sam and Danny are friends, there's no doubt there. They love each other, they support each other, they will quite literally tear the world apart for each other.

They also argue about every fucking thing on earth. They fight over whose turn it is to pay for burgers every time they get them - which is at least thrice a week - and over the best phrase to teach a pet parrot, and the difference between 'affect' and 'effect' used in context. They put some discussions on pause just in order to find and provide research, and then they slap each other with piles of said research across the faces and get into a fist fight over water pollution.

Sam treats it as a fun activity and maybe a test run for her other fights and discussions with other people. She doesn't mind Danny's frustration and his occasional violence in the slightest, knowing perfectly well that he is no danger to her, and if she asks, he would stop at once.

Danny, on the other hand, gets a great outlet to vent and release all his pent-up emotional baggage. Sure, sometimes their fights get gruesome, and sometimes they hold grudges for days, and sometimes they can barely tolerate seeing each other because of it. But he also knows that in the end, they are friends, they are fraid, and he is safe with Sam no matter what he says or how offensive something sounds to her. Because in the end, it doesn't really matter to her. Not more than him.

Tucker is just very chill with both of them. He doesn't bother sticking with any of the sides of the arguments, switching between them or not taking part at all. He knows they are fine. He knows they just like fighting, for some weird reason. To be fair, he also picks an occasional fight or two with Sam just for the fun of it.

Gotham in general, and Batfam specifically (or Justice League, if you want) are so not prepared for the three of them when they move out of Amity. Especially if there's also Dani and/or Jazz thrown in the mix to spice things up. None of them truly bother to keep from using their powers, albeit mildly: some little hex and jinx here and there from Sam, a frozen patch on the pavement to make someone slip from Danny, some minor hacking from Tucker, a prank or two using the intangibility from Dani.

It leads to a lot of very confusing situations.

Like Batman showing up to the recent Riddler scheme to find two random teens loudly arguing over the answer to the puzzle while Riddler himself looks completely given up on getting their attention back to the important thing. The important thing being a bomb with a ticking timer on it.

Or Robin finding two siblings brawling on the rooftop, growling and screaming, rolling around and kicking their feet. He is not quick enough to catch them from falling off the edge of the three-story building, but when he peeks down, the siblings are still fighting down on the street, seemingly not even noticing the fall.

Or Red Hood having his guns miraculously stolen midfight because three kids have decided to have a sharpshooter competition with the goons acting as target practice. He honestly can't bring himself to mind, though, they really are great at hitting all the kneecaps within range. He is rather grateful they haven't included his own kneecaps in the heat of it. At least their responsible adult - a very pretty redhead - had apologized and returned his guns back.

Spoiler absolutely loves it when, right as she is about to get caught in Poison Ivy's trap, two teens show up to simultaneously wrestle with the mad greenery with their bare hands and lecture Ivy on the imprint she is leaving on the ecosystem of Gotham.

However, Red Robin absolutely hates that someone keeps getting through all of his firewalls just to leave a few cheeky comments on his recent case files. It doesn't matter that they leave some valuable intel and provide a good conclusion as well, it's the principle of the thing.

All in all, Danny and Sam are the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object, but they trade and switch places constantly and they are most definitely enjoying themselves while at it.

Everyone else, though? That depends on the circumstances.

[helioooss]

normalcy

synopsis: after getting fired from your job, you somehow set yourself up to become the personal bodyguard of asia’s it girl; minatozaki sana. the contract said 6 months…but they do say opposites attract…right?

w/c: 7k+

warnings: fluff, kissing, minor violent scene with injuries involved, etc. etc. like always, read at your own risk

a/n: honestly? i really enjoyed writing this but ive read it so many times that i just want it off my drafts

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the sharp glow of the gym lights flickered, illuminating the worn pages of ‘the trial’ by kafka. you closed the book with a sigh, feeling the weight of your plight settle into your thoughts. reading was slowly becoming your balm, your silent rebellion against the monotony of life.

today, though, was worst than routine. it was about fists and consequences.

it was meant to be another uneventful shift, the kind you had become numb to over the months — wiping down benches, checking in with regulars, occasionally offering form corrections to those who were willing to listen. your black work polo, embroidered with the gym’s logo, was slightly faded from too many washes and the familiar scent of rubber flooring and sweat clung to the air.

you knew the place inside out, even if you never quite felt at home here.

as you heaved another sigh at the reception desk, you noticed a commotion near the squat racks. a woman in leggings and a loose tank top stood, flustered, her face a mix of anger and embarrassment.

across from her, a man had his phone angled at an obvious tilt, his thumb suspiciously poised over the screen.

“is there a problem?” you pushed your chair back and slowly approached, trying to keep your tone down. you were used to minor disputes, arguments over who got the next set, someone hogging the water fountain; but this was different.

the woman’s eyes darted to you, desperate. “he’s taking pictures of me,” she began, her voice shaky but urgent. “without my permission.”

“oh, come on,” the man scoffed, tucking his phone to his pocket. he was the type you’ve seen too many times — overconfident, built just enough to look intimidating, but his demeanour screamed entitlement. “it’s a public space. besides, you should be flattered.”

you clenched your jaw. you weren’t particularly confrontational, but something snapped inside you at the casual dismissal. maybe it was the way the woman seemed to shrink under his gaze, or perhaps it was the months of barely restrained frustration you’ve been bottling up.

“delete the photos,” you demanded, stepping closer.

he smirked, a slow mocking curl of his lips. “or what?”

you weren’t sure when your fist clenched or when you decided that words wouldn’t be enough. all you remembered was the flash of anger, the way your knuckles collided with his jaw and the shock on his face as he staggered back.

the gym fell silent, all eyes on you.

“what the hell?” he shouted, clutching his face as he sat up on the floor.

you felt a pang of panic, but it was drowned out by a strange sense of satisfaction. “don’t do that ever again.”

the woman mouthed a silent “thank you,” but the damage was done. within minutes, your manager, kyle, a man who was perpetually stressed and underpaid, was rushing over and pulled you aside.

“you can’t just hit customers, y/n,” he grunted, his voice barely masking his disbelief. “what the fuck?”

“he was fucking taking photos of her without consent!” you insisted, hands still shaking with adrenaline.

“i get that, he’ll be banned and a police report will be made, but we have procedures,” he responded, as if a robot, rubbing his temples. “this isn’t how we handle things.”

“so what? we just let guys like him get away with it?” you shot back, already knowing how this conversation would end. “fucking unreal.”

“he’s already threatening to sue if i don’t fire you,” he answered, with a sigh this time. he was just sick of it as you. “i’m letting you go, effective immediately. i’ll have your final check ready tomorrow.”

“yeah alright,” you clenched your jaw, turning to pick up the rest of your things off the desk. “i hope all of you pricks who just stood by and watched this woman get assaulted never have daughters!”

everyone just looked away.

when you left the gym with a hard slam on the door, you had your head held high, but by the time you reached your shared apartment…reality hit hard. you were unemployed, with bills stacking up and a sense of failure settling in the pit of your stomach.

jeongyeon and dahyun, your housemates, were already home; slumped on the couch after a long day of security work.

you all met in university and from then on, you had been stuck together. of course, the degrees you had didn’t line up with your careers now, nonetheless, you were all happy.

you think.

jeongyeon had a beer in hand, while dahyun was half-asleep, scrolling through her phone as her eyes blinked slowly.

“hey,” you mumbled, dropping your bag by the door before shutting it behind you.

“rough day?” jeongyeon asked, looking you up and down; hair disheveled and a huge rbf plastered on your face. she had a way of reading your mood with unnerving accuracy.

“i got fired,” you admitted with a heavy sigh, flopping onto the armchair as you ran your fingers through your hair.

dahyun perked up, suddenly alive. “no way,” she added, nearly falling over her own alertness. “what happened?”

you recounted the whole story; the boring shift, the spoiled boxers in the showers and the creep —each detail bringing a mix of disbelief and amusement to their faces.

“that sounds like a bitch of a day, but you punched him?” jeongyeon asked, eyes wide. “damn, y/n. i mean, that’s kind of badass, but also not great.”

“i know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “but he deserved it.”

“well, it’s not like you were planning to stay there forever,” dahyun offered, trying to sound optimistic. “but we should find you something soon. rent’s due soon.”

“hmm,” you frowned, thinking about all the bills you had to catch up on. soon enough, you wouldn’t be able to afford a bottle of soju. “yeah, that was really impulsive of me.”

jeongyeon’s face lit up suddenly. “actually, i might have something. it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s really decent money.”

you raised an eyebrow. “what is it?”

“a security job,” she explained. “it’s temporary, six months. i was supposed to take it, but i just got offered a permanent managerial role at my current gig, so i can’t do both.”

“what’s the catch?” you asked, sensing a hesitation in her voice. “i know you’d be taking it if it was really good money.”

“it’s not a typical security job,” jeongyeon admitted. “you’d be a personal bodyguard, and i can’t do that shit, y’know? the background check is really tedious but i’d do it for the money.”

“okay, shut up,” dahyun leaned forward, intrigued. “who is this for?”

“minatozaki sana,” jeongyeon said, her tone dropping to a whisper, as if saying the name too loudly would summon the heiress herself.

you blinked, unsure if you heard correctly. “wait…the minatozaki sana? heiress sana?”

“yep,” she confirmed, taking a sip of her beer. “the nepo baby herself. her old guard retired, and they need a temporary bodyguard ‘cause she can’t keep one for more than a year. i know it sounds crazy, but the pay is amazing and it’s only for six months.”

the minatozaki family was a powerful one in asia; they had their names on everything — from the phones you use to the planes that you ride. they were the definition of old money; an empire of wealth and influence that seemed to operate on a different form of existence.

“you’re talking about the same sana who’s always on magazine covers, right?” dahyun added, her eyes wide with disbelief. “the one who throws tantrums over the wrong brand of mineral water?”

“and insists on separate dishes for every meal course,” jeongyeon nodded. “yeah, that’s her.”

you felt a mix of intrigue and apprehension. you’d read about sana in passing, her life a blur of extravagant parties, expensive vacations, and notorious diva behavior. she was everything you weren’t: loud, glamorous, and perpetually in the spotlight.

meanwhile, you preferred the quiet solace of modest living, your life small but safe.

“are you sure about this?” you asked, trying to gauge jeongyeon’s seriousness. “are you going to refer me instead?”

“as sure as i can be,” she replied. “i mean, it’s not ideal, but it’s a job. and who knows? maybe it won’t be as bad as it sounds, plus, they would probably want someone like you.”

“or maybe she’ll drive you insane within a week,” dahyun said, half-joking. “either way, it’ll make for some interesting stories.”

the weight of your decision was pressing down on you. you were hesitant, but with rent looming and no other prospects, you found yourself nodding. “okay. i’ll do it. for six months, that’s it.”

jeongyeon pursed her lips, nodding along. “six months and that’s it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the minatozaki mansion loomed ahead, all marble pillars and glass windows, like something out of a luxury real estate magazine.

as you slowly walked up the driveway, a sense of unease settled in.

this was a world you’d never been a part of, and you felt distinctly out of place in your borrowed suit, the fabric slightly too stiff, the collar too tight.

“miss minatozaki awaits you,” a uniformed maid opened the door and led you through a maze of hallways, each more opulent than the last. no one seemed interested in talking to each other - their heads kept low.

finally, you were brought to a sunlit lounge, where minatozaki sana herself lounged on an oversized chaise, scrolling through her phone. she looked up as you entered, her expression one of bored curiosity.

“so, you’re the new bodyguard?” she asked, voice lilting and slightly mocking. her accent was a blend of japanese and english, perfectly polished.

“yes, ma’am,” you replied stiffly, feeling the heat of her gaze.

she waved a hand dismissively. “don’t call me that. it makes me sound old.”

“then…miss minatozaki?” you tried, unsure of the protocol.

“absolutely not,” she shook her head in disapproval.

“sana?”

“better,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips, but it wasn’t a kind smile; it was more like the satisfied grin of someone who had won an unspoken game.

as you stood there, you couldn’t help but think back to dahyun’s words. maybe she would drive you insane within a week. or maybe, you’d find a way to navigate this strange new world.

the first week was a whirlwind of adjustments — both to the demands of the job and the peculiarities of sana.

as it turned out, being the bodyguard to asia’s most notorious nepo baby wasn’t just about keeping her physically safe. it was about managing her whims, tolerating her tantrums, and, on occasion, playing peacekeeper between her and whoever happened to be on her bad side that day.

it hasn’t even been long and you were already learning the hard way that her life was filled with chaos — both the glamorous and the outright ridiculous kind. today’s chaos revolved around a botched spa appointment.

you were in the staff room, sipping a much-needed coffee, when hana, one of the housemaids, burst in — looking panicked.

“y/n, we need you!” she exclaimed, almost out of breath.

you set down your cup, already feeling a headache coming on. “what’s going on?”

“sana,” she said urgently. “the spa messed up her facial treatment, and she’s…not taking it well.”

you hurried to the spa room in the mansion, where the unmistakable sound of sana’s angry voice could be heard before you even reached the door.

“are you fucking kidding me?” she was already shouting at the terrified spa technician. “this is not the organic serum i use! how could you get it wrong?”

“i’m so sorry, miss minatozaki,” the technician stammered, looking like she wanted to disappear. “there must have been a mix-up —”

“no excuses!” she snapped, her face flushed with anger. “i demand to speak to the manager who set this appointment up!”

you stepped in quickly, your presence catching sana’s attention. “hey, what’s going on?”

“what’s going on?” she repeated, her voice sharp as she turned to you. “they used the wrong serum on my face, y/n! do you know what that means?”

“i understand,” you said calmly, moving between her and the trembling technician. “but let’s not make a scene. i’m sure we can fix this.”

“fix this?” she scoffed, crossing her arms dramatically. “my skin is everything! this could ruin my whole week.”

“it won’t,” you reassured her. “let’s have them redo it properly with the correct serum. no harm done.”

she glared at you for a moment, the silence deafening, as if deciding whether to keep throwing a fit or let you handle it.

finally, she sighed dramatically, waving her hand dismissively. “fine, but this better not happen again.”

the staff let out a collective sigh of relief as you guided sana back to the treatment chair, your calm presence diffusing the tension.

as you turned towards the door to give her privacy, you heard her huff, making you look back at her. “what’s the matter now?”

“where are you going?” she crossed her legs, leaning against the chair. “stay.”

you pursed your lips. “can i get my coffee at least?”

she shook her head and your jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. “i’ll order us one.”

later, as you both left the spa room, she turned to you with a small, begrudging smile. “you’re not bad at calming me down, you know.”

“just doing my job,” you replied, but there was a hint of amusement in your voice.

you were used to keeping a low profile, slipping in and out of situations unnoticed. however, in sana’s world, invisibility wasn’t an option. you were always under scrutiny, whether from sana herself, her overbearing manager, or the hovering entourage of stylists, assistants, and PR personnel.

on the surface, she was everything you expected her to be. she was loud, glamorous, and seemed to find amusement in the smallest inconveniences.

one afternoon, while being driven to a photoshoot, sana’s driver took a wrong turn. she rolled her eyes dramatically, sighed, and declared it to be “the worst day of her life.”

“i’ve had worst,” you sat quietly in the front seat, staring out the window. you had lived through truly bad days; the kind that left lasting imprints on your mind. this wasn’t one of them.

for her, you guessed, the scale was different. the world revolved around her, bending to her every demand and adjusting to her moods.

“what’s your problem?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. her eyes narrowed, a challenge in them.

you blinked, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“you’re too quiet most of the time,” she said, as if it were a flaw. “it’s creepy.”

you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but you kept your composure. “i’m here to do my job, not to entertain you.”

“boring,” she replied, drawing out the word. “but at least you’re not as fake as the last one.”

not knowing how to respond to that, you simply let the conversation die out. this, you realised, was part of the game: sana testing boundaries, seeing how far she could push before you pushed back.

she was used to getting reactions, usually adoration or frustration — your indifference seemed to both confuse and intrigue her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the end of week three, the initial awkwardness had given way to a strange kind of rhythm. you followed her to meetings, fashion shows and charity galas, always a step behind, always alert.

it was a bright monday morning and the mansion staff was already bustling to get sana’s breakfast ready. everything was going smoothly until someone made the unforgivable mistake of serving the wrong brand of mineral water.

“this isn’t evian!” she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the dining hall. she stared at the glass of water as if it were an insult. “who drinks this brand?”

the staff exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to handle the sudden outburst. within moments, one of the maids, jisoo, hurried to find you; and she did, with a newspaper on hand sitting on the stairs outside the house.

“y/n-ssi, sana needs you in the dining room,” she said urgently.

“what’s it this time?” you asked, already half-knowing the answer as you rolled your eyes.

“the wrong water brand,” she replied apologetically, bowing her head down.

“fuck’s sake,” you sighed but stood up and made your way to the dining room, where sana was sitting with her arms crossed, her breakfast untouched.

“what’s the problem?” you asked gently, keeping your tone steady as you walked in.

“the problem,” she said with exaggerated patience, “is that they gave me the wrong water. how many times do i have to tell them that i only drink evian?”

“i’ll get them to bring the right one,” you said, trying not to smile at the absurdity. “just try to eat something in the meantime.”

she looked at you, her eyes narrowing. “you think this is funny?”

“a little,” you admitted. “but i get it. i wouldn’t want to drink bad water either.”

her lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile but was still too annoyed. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re thirsty,” you shot back, already signaling for the staff to bring the evian out. “let’s fix that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

most of the time, sana ignored you, lost in her world of luxury and fame. sometimes, in the quieter moments, like when she was waiting for a shoot to start, or when her hair was being styled, she would glance at you with a curious expression, as if trying to figure you out — and always, always made sure you were being looked after by the same staff with the same level of care.

“what do you do for fun?” she asked one afternoon, her voice sudden and clear.

“i read,” you answered, not seeing the harm in a little honesty.

she wrinkled her nose. “that’s it? no parties, no dating, nothing?”

“that’s it,” you confirmed. “i like books, sometimes i’ll binge a show or two. i like to keep up with the times too; seeing as no ever reads the daily papers you get, i made the courtesy to volunteer.”

“how boring,” she said, but there was no malice in her voice this time — only mild amusement. “any girlfriends?”

“nope,” you answered, popping the ‘p’. “if i did, i wouldn’t be working for you 24/7, wouldn’t i?”

“wow, that’s really boring.”

you shrugged. “not everything has to be exciting.”

“but it should be,” she insisted, as if it were a fundamental truth. “life’s too short to be dull.”

you didn’t argue. after all, you knew she was partly right. she’d been raised in a world where everything was larger-than-life; where even the smallest moments were amplified, staged for the cameras and curated for maximum impact.

in contrast, your own life had been marked by quiet corners, long evenings with your friends and the occasional attempt at writing your own poetry, which you never let anyone read.

on the nights you returned home, dahyun and jeongyeon were eager to hear about your day. they had their own security stories to tell, mostly about rowdy bar patrons or obnoxious celebrity guests, but nothing quite as surreal as your new job.

“so, what’s she really like?” dahyun asked one evening, as she stirred a pot of ramen on the stove. “i mean, we know the public persona, but what’s behind all that?”

“more or less the same,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “she’s demanding, spoiled, and out of touch. though there are moments when she’s different.”

“different how?” jeongyeon chimed in, looking curious.

“it’s hard to explain,” you admitted. “it’s like she has these flashes of being real, but they’re gone as soon as they appear.”

jeongyeon grinned. “sounds like you’re getting to know her.”

“not really,” you said quickly. “i’m just observing.”

“sure,” dahyun teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “next thing we know, you’ll be taking selfies with her.”

“over my dead body,” you shot back, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

meanwhile, sana continued to navigate her world of excess with ease, but there were cracks in the facade. sometimes, late at night, you would catch glimpses of vulnerability — when she thought no one was watching…except that you were.

one night, after a particularly grueling day of photoshoots and meetings, you found her sitting alone on a balcony, nursing a glass of champagne.

“you know, it’s not always fun being me,” she said, her voice unusually soft, her fingers grazing over the bottle of champagne in her hand.

you hesitated, unsure if she wanted a response or was simply venting.

“i may have it all, but what’s the point of it when no one wants to get close? this world is all about money and lasting impressions.

you had no words of comfort. you barely knew her beyond the surface, and yet, in that moment, you felt a pang of empathy. you wondered if she had ever truly been allowed to be herself, or if she had always been the carefully crafted image of minatozaki holdings’ heir apparent.

“i guess that’s why you have bodyguards,” you said eventually with a grin, trying to keep the mood light. “to protect you from all that.”

she turned to look at you, a small, tired smile on her lips. “maybe. or maybe it’s just to make me feel less alone.”

you weren’t sure what to say to that, so you simply stood there, a silent companion in the middle of a life that seemed to belong to someone else.

the next night, there was a high-profile art exhibit and sana was expected to make an appearance alongside other high-society figures. as you both arrived at the gallery, everything seemed to be going well, until sana noticed that her name was misspelled on the VIP list.

“are you fucking kidding me?” she muttered her favourite words as she fumed, her voice dangerously low. “they misspelled my name. do they know who i am?”

the event coordinator tried to apologise, but sana was having none of it. “this is unacceptable. i can’t believe they’d be so careless.”

her stylist, jenna, now in full panic mode, hurried to find you standing at the back. “y/n, can you please handle this?”

you approached sana calmly, sensing the anger bubbling beneath her composed exterior. “sana, let’s not let this ruin the night. we can get it fixed quietly.”

“it’s not about fixing it,” she snapped, her frustration clear. “it’s about respect.”

“and you’ll get it,” you promised, your tone firm. “but the best way to show them who you are is to stay calm and let them correct their mistake.”

she glared at you, her anger giving way to something more vulnerable — hurt, perhaps, at being overlooked in a world that was supposed to revolve around her.

“fine,” she muttered, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “but only because you asked.”

later that night, as you escorted her out of the event, she looked up at you with a mix of gratitude and frustration.

“you’re too good at calming me down,” she said begrudgingly.

“someone has to be,” you teased gently, and for once, she laughed; a genuine, light-hearted sound that hinted at the girl underneath it all.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

days turned into two months and your dynamic with sana continued to evolve in unexpected ways. her diva-like antics had become more tolerable, even endearing at times. she still had moments of complete absurdity, like insisting on a private helicopter ride to a nearby island simply because she felt like having lunch there, but there were also nights when you’d find yourself sitting on her penthouse balcony, sharing quiet conversations under the stars.

“sana, here!” a photographer yelled as you opened the car door for her.

tonight’s event was a high-profile film premiere, and sana was one of the celebrity guests on the red carpet. everything had been meticulously planned — her outfit, her makeup, her entrance.

as soon as she stepped out of the car, a sudden gust of wind caught the edge of her dress, sending it fluttering up slightly.

“are you kidding me?” she muttered under her breath, trying to keep her composure as cameras flashed around her.

you were right behind her, keeping a close eye on her mood. you could tell that the minor mishap had thrown her off, and she was struggling to maintain her usual poise.

“it’s fine,” you whispered as you walked beside her. “no one noticed.”

“they definitely noticed,” she hissed back, her smile for the cameras clearly forced. “this is a disaster.”

“it’s just wind,” you reminded her softly. “you look stunning.”

“you’re just saying that,” she muttered, her voice a mix of annoyance and insecurity.

“no, i’m not,” you insisted, giving her a reassuring look. “you’re the most beautiful person here, wind or no wind.”

she glanced at you, and for a moment, the irritation faded. “you’re impossible.”

“you keep saying that,” you replied, your tone teasing.

she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her efforts to stay angry. “only because it’s true.”

changes in sana’s behaviour had become noticeable — and everyone knew it was your presence.

“where’s y/n?” sana asked one morning, her voice carrying through the hallways of her childhood residence. it had become a common question, asked whenever you weren’t within her immediate line of sight.

her assistants and staff had grown used to it, merely pointing her in your direction, a small smile tugging at their lips; there was no denying that she was a lot softer, more patient with you around.

“i think she went to grab a coffee with the night shift guys before they leave,” one of her managers responded. “how are you feeling?”

“oh,” she frowned, but quickly replaced it with a smile. “i’m feeling great today, i hope you all are too.”

“thank you, miss minatozaki.”

you had just returned from a quick break, a coffee cup in hand, when she spotted you walking into the kitchen. her face lit up, a small grin breaking through her usual poised expression.

“there you are,” she said, a hint of relief in her voice.

“did you need something?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“no,” she admitted, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “just…wanted to see you.”

you nodded, your heart skipping a beat. the walls between you were slowly crumbling, leaving room for something tender and unexpected.

it was a quiet afternoon at the minatozaki residence. sana had accidentally fallen asleep after a long day of back-to-back meetings, photoshoots, and a few tense exchanges with her father over business decisions. you had stayed by her side the whole time, making sure she was protected and reassured. now that she was resting, you found yourself with a rare moment of downtime.

you wandered into the staff room once again, feeling a bit out of place but also grateful for the sense of normalcy it offered. the room was simple and far removed from the extravagance of the rest of the mansion.

it was filled with a few worn couches, a small coffee table, and a kitchenette. it was also where the house staff gathered for breaks, catching up on each other’s lives away from the opulent chaos of the minatozaki household.

today, the usual group was there: hana and misaki, the long-time japanese housemaids; jisoo, the young korean maid who had joined only recently; and hyunwoo and takashi, two of the security guards who had worked at the estate for years.

they looked up when you entered, surprised but pleased to see you.

“y/n-ssi,” jisoo greeted with a warm smile, her accent familiar in its korean softness. “come, sit with us.”

“thanks,” you said, taking a seat beside hana, who immediately poured you a cup of tea from the thermos on the table.

“tough day?” hana asked, her voice gentle, her eyes full of sympathy.

you nodded, taking a sip of the tea. “you could say that. she’s exhausted.”

“no wonder,” misaki chimed in, shaking her head. “sana works harder than anyone gives her credit for.”

“true,” hyunwoo agreed, his expression serious. “people only see the glamorous side of her life. they don’t realise how demanding it all is.”

“but it’s different now,” takashi added, his tone thoughtful as he eyed you. “since you arrived, y/n-san. she was devastated when taehyuk retired.”

“different how?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“she’s softer,” jisoo said, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “more human, if that makes sense. she still has her tantrums, but it’s clear she’s trying to be…better. specially around you.”

you shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “i’m just doing my job.”

“it’s more than that,” misaki said with a gentle laugh. “sana isn’t just being professional with you. we’ve seen it. she’s happier when you’re around.”

“happier?” you echoed, feeling your heart skip a beat.

“yes,” hyunwoo confirmed. “it’s obvious to all of us. she looks for you in every room, always wants you nearby and is calmer when you’re there. she even listens to you and asks for your opinions, something she rarely does with anyone else.”

“and the way she watches you,” jisoo added with a teasing grin. “it’s like she’s in a romantic drama. sometimes, i wonder if i’ll walk in on a confession scene.”

the group chuckled at jisoo’s remark, but you felt a wave of emotion you couldn’t quite suppress. you had noticed these things too, the way sana’s eyes softened when she looked at you, the way she seemed to lean into your presence as if it brought her some kind of comfort.

“we’ve known sana since she was a child,” hana said quietly, her tone turning serious. “and i don’t think i’ve ever seen her this vulnerable before. she cares about you deeply, y/n.”

“it’s not just her,” takashi added, his voice low but sincere. “we all like having you here. you’ve brought a different energy to this place. one that’s been missing for a long time.”

“i don’t know if i’m doing the right thing,” you admitted, finally letting your own insecurities slip through. “sometimes, i think i’m just making things harder for her.”

“or maybe you’re the one making things easier,” jisoo said softly. “it’s clear she needs you, even if she doesn’t always say it.”

the room fell into a comfortable silence after that, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air. you were grateful for the staff’s warmth and honesty, even if it complicated your feelings further.

as you finished your tea, you felt a strange sense of belonging; a feeling you hadn’t expected to find in the mansion’s staff room. you weren’t just the hired help anymore, you were someone who mattered, not just to sana, but to the people who had cared for her all these years.

however, not all moments were sweet. the intensity of being in the public eye meant that danger often lurked around the corner, specially in the form of aggressive paparazzi. they were relentless, always waiting for an opportunity to capture the heiress in vulnerable moments.

one night, as you and sana were leaving a high-profile fashion event, a group of photographers closed in, their cameras flashing incessantly. the air was thick with shouts, and the energy was hostile; an unwelcome reminder of her reality.

“sana, over here!” one yelled, his voice sharp.

“how about a smile, princess?” another taunted, his tone mocking.

you instinctively positioned yourself between sana and the crowd, your body acting as a barrier. she clutched your arm, her grip tight, her usually confident demeanor wavering.

“back off,” you commanded firmly, trying to maintain a calm but authoritative presence.

“aww, look at this,” one of the paparazzi sneered, his camera focused on you. “the bodyguard’s playing hero now.”

his comment sparked laughter among the other photographers, and you felt a surge of anger rise within you. you had learned to tune out the taunts over the months, but something about the tone, about how he was reducing your efforts to a joke, struck a nerve.

“she doesn’t need you,” he continued, his grin malicious. “you’re just another expendable employee.”

you stepped closer, your voice low but full of controlled fury. “say that again, and we’ll see how expendable i really am.”

the crowd grew tense, sensing a confrontation, but your tone and stance made it clear that you were not to be trifled with. the photographer hesitated, his bravado faltering.

“come on, let’s go,” another paparazzo muttered, nudging him away. “this one’s not worth it.”

they backed off, but the tension lingered in the air, the aftermath of the encounter still palpable.

sana tugged at your sleeve gently, her voice shaky. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you said, still glaring at the retreating photographers. “what about you?”

“i hate them,” she whispered, her face crumpling slightly as she let her guard down. “i hate how they always want a piece of me.”

her vulnerability hit you hard, and without thinking, you reached out to touch her arm gently. “i know. but i won’t let them hurt you. not while i’m here.”

she looked up at you, her eyes saying it all. it was one of the few times you’d seen her without her usual armour and the rawness of her emotion was both heartbreaking and intimate.

“thank you,” she said, her voice barely audible over the din of the still-chattering crowd. “for always being here.”

“always,” you promised, feeling a rush of warmth despite the chaos around you.

that night, back at her residence, sana was unusually quiet. she seemed lost in thought, her mind replaying the day’s events. you were about to head out home for the night shift guards to take over when she called your name softly.

“y/n?” you turned around, the impacts of today etched on your face.

“yeah?”

“you keep me going,” she smiled, voice really sincere this time. “i mean it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the third month with sana marked a distinct shift in the atmosphere between you two. it was a subtle change at first — small glances lingering a bit longer, her voice softening when she spoke to you and an almost childlike curiosity about your life. it was as if she had decided that you were no longer just a bodyguard, but someone she could confide in.

one of those nights, she broke the silence with a surprising question.

“what’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever read?” she asked, her voice a mix of genuine curiosity and something softer.

you thought for a moment, trying to sift through the endless lines of poetry and philosophy you’d absorbed over the years. finally, you recited from memory, “i have waited for you for centuries. my arms were made to cradle only you. my lips were shaped to call only your name.”

sana was silent for a moment, her eyes wide. “that’s…beautiful.”

“it’s from a poem by pablo neruda,” you explained, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“you’re such a hopeless romantic,” she teased, but her tone was warm, almost tender.

“maybe,” you admitted. “but it’s just words, you know?”

“sometimes words are all we have,” she said quietly, her gaze distant.

the conversation lingered in your mind long after that night. there was a depth to sana that she rarely let anyone see, but she was beginning to let you in; piece by piece, word by word.

meanwhile, back at your shared apartment, jeongyeon and dahyun found endless amusement in the stories you brought home about sana’s escapades. they’d often sit around the small kitchen table, laughing over dinner.

“so, she really made you carry fifteen shopping bags all by yourself?” dahyun asked one night, her eyes wide with disbelief.

you nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “yup. and she didn’t even look back to check if i was struggling.”

jeongyeon snorted. “sounds like a real princess.”

“she is,” you admitted, though there was no bite in your words anymore, not after getting to see a soft side of her.

at the end of it all, sana wasn’t the stupid nepo baby you always thought she was. since you met, she has hosted five charity events, donated most of her earnings to at least ten different organisations and it wasn’t easy to outsmart her.

it was during one of these dinners that your other friends jihyo, momo and mina showed up unexpectedly with homemade food and cheap bottles of wine.

“you look…happier,” jihyo observed, a small smile playing on her lips. “is it the job?”

“maybe,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “it’s not as bad as i thought it would be.”

momo, who had a knack for teasing, leaned forward with a grin. “or maybe it’s the client?”

mina, quieter but no less curious, raised an eyebrow. “minatozaki sana, right? she’s pretty famous.”

“and pretty spoiled,” you added, but there was a hint of fondness in your voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

“oh my god, you like her,” jihyo exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “you’ve got that look in your eyes!”

“i do not,” you protested weakly, but your friends weren’t convinced.

“yeah, right,” dahyun laughed. “you totally have a crush on her.”

jeongyeon poured a shot of soju into your glass, chuckling. “you should all hear the way she talks about sana — it’s like the heiress is glued to her hip. she does fourteen-hour shifts with her.”

“okay, fine,” you admitted reluctantly. “she’s… interesting. but it’s complicated.”

“of course it is,” mina said, her tone understanding. “complicated can be good.”

the truth was, you were genuinely enjoying the job, or at least, you were enjoying being around sana. the lines between professionalism and personal feelings had blurred, and you found yourself wanting to spend more time with her, not just out of duty but out of genuine interest.

one evening, as you were preparing to leave sana’s penthouse after a long day, she stopped you at the door with an unexpected request.

“i want to meet your friends,” she said, her tone unusually earnest.

you blinked, caught off guard. “why?”

she looked a bit embarrassed, which was rare for her. “i don’t know. i just want to know more about you. the real you.”

it was a surprising moment of vulnerability from someone who usually kept her walls firmly intact.

after a moment of hesitation, you agreed. “okay, but you should know, our house looks completely different to this.”

“even better,” she smiled.

a week later, you invited sana over for dinner at your apartment. your housemates freaked out, with dahyun saying “she can’t believe this shit” and jeongyeon yelling “our house will suffocate her”, she arrived a bit too early, dressed in obvious designer clothes (she tried to make it subtle) that seemed hilariously out of place in your modest home.

the living room fell into a stunned silence as you led sana inside. she handed you flowers and wine, a small, almost shy gesture that seemed completely at odds with her usual confident demeanor.

“hi?” jeongyeon said, her eyes wide. “it’s nice to meet you!”

“i thought it was time to meet y/n’s friends properly,” sana explained, her voice earnest. “i hope i’m not intruding.”

“not at all,” dahyun interrupted quickly, breaking the awkwardness with a smile. “we’re just surprised, that’s all.”

“a pleasant surprise,” jeongyeon added warmly, recovering from the initial shock. “welcome.���

“thank you,” sana said, her smile growing more genuine. “i brought wine, if that helps.”

“it always does,” you quipped, making everyone laugh.

as the evening progressed, sana was unexpectedly charming. she asked questions, listened attentively and made a real effort to get to know each of your friends. it was clear she was trying to fit in, and there was an endearing awkwardness about it — like she was stepping into a world she didn’t quite understand, but was determined to navigate anyway.

“so, y/n never told me you’re such a good cook,” sana said to dahyun as she tasted the jjigae. “this is amazing.”

“thanks,” dahyun replied, clearly pleased. “y/n’s usually in charge of burning the rice, so i have to take over.”

“i don’t burn the rice that often,” you protested, but your grin gave you away.

“oh, really?” sana teased, her eyes twinkling. “i’ll have to try your cooking next time, then.”

the table erupted in laughter, and you felt a warmth in your chest; one that came from seeing sana blend so naturally into your world.

moments later, jeongyeon leaned forward, her expression curious. “so sana, what’s it like being…well, you? all the glamour, the attention, the pressure?”

she thought for a moment, her expression turning serious. “honestly? it’s exhausting sometimes. but being here, with all of you, feels normal. and that’s something i don’t get often.”

the sincerity in her voice struck a chord with everyone, and the atmosphere softened even further.

“well, we’re glad you’re here,” dahyun said warmly. “you’re welcome anytime.”

“thank you,” sana smiled, her gaze drifting toward you. “i really appreciate it.”

as dinner wound down and the plates piled up, everyone started to get up to clear the table. sana, to everyone’s surprise, rolled up her sleeves and headed straight for the sink.

“what are you doing?” you asked, voice filled with genuine disbelief.

“helping with the dishes,” sana replied matter-of-factly. “is that okay?”

dahyun, who had been about to start washing, handed sana a dishcloth. “here, you can dry. but don’t tell anyone, or we’ll lose our reputations as the best dishwashers in seoul.”

she laughed, taking the cloth. “your secret’s safe with me.”

as they stood side by side at the sink, sana and dahyun exchanged stories; simple things about childhood, favourite foods and embarrassing moments. you watched from the living room, feeling a mix of admiration and affection as she genuinely tried to fit into the mundane domesticity of your world.

“she’s really trying, isn’t she?” jeongyeon whispered to you, her tone a mix of surprise and amusement.

“yeah,” you said softly, your eyes never leaving sana’s figure. “she is.”

and as you watched her, sleeves rolled up, drying dishes with a cheerful smile, you felt the hope you’d been suppressing slowly come back to life.

tonight was a quiet evening at her penthouse, the kind that was rare amidst the chaos of her schedule. she was sitting on the balcony, staring out at the city lights, a bottle of wine in hand. she had insisted on drinking straight from the bottle, much to the shock of her staff, but she sent them off, saying it was a “casual night.”

you joined her, taking a seat beside her on the wrought-iron chair. she offered you the bottle, a faint smile on her lips.

“want some?” she asked.

you hesitated, then took a small sip, surprised at how intimate the moment felt.

“i used to come out here a lot not too long ago,” she said suddenly, her voice softer than usual. “it was the only place where i could really think.”

“about what?” you asked, curious.

“everything,” she admitted, her gaze distant. “what it means to be me, about whether i even like who i am.”

“and do you?” you asked quietly, not sure if she’d want to answer.

“sometimes,” she said honestly. “but mostly, it feels like i’m just playing a role. being the perfect daughter, the perfect heiress…it’s exhausting.”

“you don’t have to be perfect,” you said gently. “not with me.”

she turned to look at you, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite identify. “you always say things like that,” she whispered. “and it scares me how much i want to believe you.”

the rawness of her confession left you momentarily speechless. you reached out, your hand resting on top of hers.

“i mean it,” you said sincerely. “you’re allowed to be real, sana. even if it’s messy.”

for a moment, she simply stared at you, her eyes shining with unshed tears. then, in a rare display of vulnerability, she squeezed your hand, holding onto it as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

it was a good night, one that almost felt normal; like you were two regular people.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the start of the fourth month, the line between you and sana had blurred in ways that neither of you acknowledged out loud. it wasn’t just that you had become accustomed to each other’s presence; there was a deeper pull, an unspoken connection that had grown stronger despite your best efforts to maintain a professional distance.

tonight was no exception. it was another high-profile fashion event for prada, filled with celebrities, influencers and models who glided through the room as if they owned the world.

you stood a few paces behind sana, keeping a watchful eye on the crowded room. she was in her element, surrounded by admirers, her confident smile perfectly polished. you tried to focus on your duties but it was hard not to be distracted by how striking she looked tonight — her black dress hugging her figure, her hair swept back elegantly, a diamond necklace catching the light with every turn of her head.

you were pulled from your thoughts when a blonde woman approached you, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. she was dressed in an expensive dress and exuded the kind of effortless confidence that could make anyone feel self-conscious.

“hey,” she said smoothly, her voice low and flirtatious. “you don’t seem like you’re here for the fashion.”

you offered a polite smile, trying to remain professional. “i’m working.”

“i figured,” she replied, stepping closer. “but even bodyguards deserve a little fun, don’t you think?”

you glanced over at sana instinctively, but she was engaged in conversation with a group of designers. for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond to the model’s advances without drawing unnecessary attention.

“i’m not really here for fun,” you said finally, keeping your tone light but firm.

“that’s a shame,” she teased, her eyes glinting. “because you seem like someone who could use a little distraction.”

before you could respond, you caught sight of sana’s gaze shifting toward you, her smile faltering for a split second as she noticed the exchange.

there was a flicker of something in her eyes.

you quickly excused yourself from the model’s advances and returned to your position behind sana. she didn’t say anything, but you could feel a subtle shift in her demeanour — her posture a bit more rigid, her laughter a bit forced.

“everything okay?” you asked quietly when there was a brief lull in the conversation.

“fine,” she replied shortly, not meeting your gaze.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. the rest of the event dragged on, with sana becoming increasingly quiet, her usual spark dimming noticeably.

when the event finally ended and you both stepped into the back of the limousine, the silence was thick and uncomfortable. sana stared out the window, her expression closed off, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

you glanced at her, unsure of how to break the tension. “are you sure you’re okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” she asked, her voice clipped.

“you seem different,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

“just tired,” she muttered, still avoiding your eyes. “that’s all.”

the drive back to the penthouse was filled with an uneasy quiet, each passing second amplifying the unspoken tension between you. it was clear that something was bothering her, but you didn’t press further, respecting her space.

when you arrived at the penthouse, she stepped out of the car abruptly, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she walked ahead without a word. you followed her inside, unsure of what to expect.

as soon as the door closed behind you, the tension in the room became almost suffocating. sana stopped in the middle of the living room, her back to you, her shoulders tense.

“was she pretty?” she asked suddenly, her voice laced with an unexpected bitterness.

“what?” you asked, confused.

“the model,” she clarified, turning to face you. “did you think she was pretty?”

her words caught you off guard. you weren’t sure how to respond.

“i wasn’t really paying attention,” you said honestly, your voice steady. “i was just doing my job.”

“right,” she said, her tone sarcastic. “because flirting is definitely part of your job description.”

“i wasn’t flirting,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice calm. “she was.”

“and you didn’t stop her,” she shot back, her eyes flashing with frustration.

you took a step closer, trying to bridge the distance between you. “sana, what’s really going on here?”

“what’s going on,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “is that i hated seeing her talk to you. i hated seeing her try to get your attention.”

the admission hung in the air between you, charged with an intensity that neither of you could ignore.

“why?” you asked softly, taking another step closer.

“because,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “because i don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

her words were filled with a desperation that was impossible to misunderstand. she closed the remaining distance between you in a sudden, impulsive movement, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and longing.

“sana…” you started, but she shook her head.

“no,” she said firmly, her hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. “i need to know something.”

“what?” you asked, your voice low and filled with uncertainty.

“if you want this too,” she whispered, her thumb brushing against your skin. “because i can’t keep pretending that i don’t.”

her confession was raw, filled with months of suppressed desire and longing. you could feel the warmth of her touch, the intensity in her eyes, and the vulnerability in her voice.

“i do,” you admitted, your own voice thick with emotion. “i want this.”

there was a moment of hesitation, a pause filled with the weight of everything that had brought you to this point. then, in a rush of courage, she closed the gap between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent.

what started as a tentative kiss soon turned into something more urgent, fueled by the months of unresolved tension. her lips were demanding, her touch insistent, and you found yourself giving in despite every rational thought screaming at you to stop. this was wrong: unprofessional, dangerous even — but it was also everything you hadn’t realised you’d been missing.

“sana —“

“don’t think,” she murmured against your skin, her fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. “just be here. with me.”

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“i didn’t plan that,” she admitted, her voice a mix of relief and disbelief.

“i’m glad you did it anyway,” you whispered, your heart pounding.

she let out a shaky laugh, her fingers still tracing the curve of your jaw. “stay tonight,” she said softly, her eyes filled with hope.

“okay,” you agreed, your voice filled with certainty. that was the first of many nights.

little did you know, jeongyeon and dahyun were becoming suspicious. they noticed your late returns, the occasional dazed expression on your face, and the fact that you seemed more distracted than usual.

“you’re definitely hiding something,” jeongyeon said one evening, her tone half-accusing, half-amused.

“what’s going on, y/n?” dahyun pressed. “come on, you can tell us.”

“nothing’s going on,” you lied, a bit too quickly.

jeongyeon narrowed her eyes. “if it’s about sana, we already know she’s a handful. but if she’s causing you real trouble, we need to know.”

“it’s not like that,” you insisted, feeling the weight of your secret grow heavier. “it’s too complicated.”

and it was. the more you tried to keep your relationship with sana under wraps, the more tangled it became. the sneaking around, the hushed conversations, the stolen kisses — they all added up to a mess of feelings you hadn’t anticipated.

it was meant to be a routine public appearance for sana — just another glamorous event on her packed schedule. this time, it was a charity auction at one of seoul’s most upscale hotels, where wealthy socialites and influential business figures gathered to bid on overpriced art and sip vintage champagne.

you stood a few feet behind her, your gaze scanning the room with practiced caution. the past few months had sharpened your instincts; you were constantly on alert, even when sana’s attention was elsewhere.

sana, for her part, was in her element, dressed in a backless red gown that turned heads as she moved through the crowd. she was charming and magnetic, playing her role to perfection. she even shot you a few mischievous glances, as if enjoying the private joke of your secret closeness amidst all the extravagance.

then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a man approaching: his movements too quick, too direct. before you could react, he lunged toward sana, his voice an incoherent mix of anger and desperation.

“you think no one can have you?” he yelled, his eyes wild. “if i can’t have you then no one can!”

instinct took over. you stepped forward, positioning yourself between the man and sana, your body acting as a shield. his fist swung wildly, and before you could fully brace for it, his knuckles connected with your face. pain exploded across your nose, and you stumbled back, your vision blurring momentarily.

“y/n!” sana’s scream cut through the chaos, high-pitched and terrified.

you quickly recovered, holding your ground as security personnel rushed in to restrain the man. your nose throbbed, and when you touched it, you felt the warm, sticky wetness of blood.

“are you okay?” her voice was frantic as she reached you, her hands trembling as they hovered near your face.

“i’m fine,” you managed to say, though the pain was sharp and your pride was bruised. “just a scratch.”

“that’s not a scratch,” she snapped, her voice full of uncharacteristic worry. “you’re bleeding. we need to get you checked.”

“it’s nothing serious,” you insisted, trying to play it down, but the look on her face was one of genuine panic.

“i’m not taking no for an answer,” she said firmly, her hand gripping your arm. “you’re taking a week off. and that’s final.”

before you could argue, she was already barking orders to her assistant to arrange for medical help and a car back to your residence. her concern was startling; it wasn’t the spoiled diva you’d grown used to, but someone genuinely rattled by your injury.

after you got the clearance from a site medic, sana immediately jumped into the car with you — face still etched with worry.

“you were bleeding,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. she reached out, her fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that caught you off guard. “i was scared.”

“it’s not that bad,” you insisted, smiling at her as you looked down on the blood all over your collar.

“this is all my fault,” she muttered, her voice filled with guilt. “if i hadn’t gone out —”

“no,” you interrupted firmly, grabbing her hand. “this isn’t your fault. it’s just part of the job.”

before she could respond, one of her managers turned to look at you both, looking frazzled and concerned. “sana, we have to leave in a different car now. there’s an urgent board meeting you can’t miss. it’s already started.”

sana’s face shifted from worry to irritation, her eyes blazing with frustration. “i’m not leaving y/n like this.”

“but sana —” junwoo began, his tone urgent.

“i don’t care,” she snapped, her voice carrying an edge you rarely heard. “she’s hurt. i’m not just abandoning her.”

you squeezed her hand, trying to stay calm despite the pain and the intensity of the moment. “sana, you have to go. this meeting is important.”

“you’re more important,” she said firmly, her eyes never leaving yours.

“i’ll be okay,” you reassured her, your voice soft but steady. “i promise. i’ll get patched up and meet you at the residence or the penthouse later.”

she hesitated, clearly torn between her duty and her concern for you. “but what if you need me? what if something happens?”

“nothing’s going to happen,” you said, your grip on her hand tightening. “you have to go. they need you right now.”

her eyes filled with tears, her jaw set in a mixture of stubbornness and helplessness. “i don’t want to leave you.”

“i know,” you whispered. “but i need you to go, please?”

for a long moment, she just stared at you, her face a mask of conflicting emotions. then, with a shaky breath, she nodded. “fine, but promise me you’ll message me later. i want to see for myself that you’re okay.”

“i promise,” you said, trying to inject confidence into your voice despite the pain.

she leaned forward suddenly, pressing a quick, desperate kiss to your forehead as a sleek silver car parked next to the one you were in. “i’ll be back as soon as i can, see you, baby!”

you waved at her, the throbbing pain spread out all over your face being replaced by your skipping heart beat. baby. you could get used to it.

half an hour later, back at your apartment, jeongyeon and dahyun were waiting with ice packs and a bottle of whiskey — ready to commiserate.

dahyun immediately clicked into nurse mode, cleaning your cut while jeongyeon shook her head, half-amused and half-worried.

“you really took one for the team, huh?” jeongyeon teased, though her eyes were soft with concern.

“it was my job,” you said, wincing as dahyun applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

“well, she better appreciate it,” mina muttered. “because that guy landed a pretty solid punch with his rings on too.”

you were trying to downplay the whole incident, but a knock at the door interrupted your attempts at nonchalance. it was unexpected, no one ever dropped by unannounced.

you shared a confused glance with your roommates before jeongyeon went to open the door.

“what the —” jeongyeon’s surprised voice echoed from the entryway.

when you peeked around the corner, you saw sana standing there, holding an enormous gift basket filled with flowers, chocolates, and other expensive-looking items. behind her stood tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon, each carrying bags of what looked like more gifts.

“we’re here to see y/n,” sana announced, her tone a strange mix of confidence and nervousness.

you froze. this was the last thing you’d expected — not just sana’s sudden appearance, but the fact that she’d brought her high-society friends to your modest apartment.

“uh, come in, i guess,” jeongyeon said awkwardly, stepping aside to let them in.

as soon as sana saw you, her expression softened. she rushed over, setting the basket on the table before gently cupping your face, inspecting the damage.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice low and filled with concern. “i only showed up to the meeting to sign papers and then left.”

“it’s just a bruise,” you reassured her, feeling self-conscious under everyone’s gaze. “you didn’t have to come here straight away.”

“yes, i did,” she insisted. “and i brought reinforcements,” she gestured toward tzuyu, chaeyoung and nayeon, who were now trying to make themselves comfortable amidst the clutter of your shared living space.

“we heard y/n got hurt,” tzuyu said simply, her usually aloof expression softening.

“yeah, and sana was freaking out,” nayeon added with a grin, nudging sana’s shoulder playfully. “she made us come along to make sure she wasn’t exaggerating, and of course, to carry her bags around.”

chaeyoung, meanwhile, looked around with interest. “this place is cozy. it’s a lot more…real than i expected.”

“thanks, i think,” dahyun said, still processing the fact that she was suddenly hosting four of asia’s wealthiest heirs in her living room. “so, uh, anyone want some ramen?”

“we brought food,” sana interjected quickly, motioning to the bags her friends had carried in. “i figured you wouldn’t want to cook after everything.”

before long, the table was filled with takeout boxes, a mix of high-end sushi, tempura and even a few bottles of sake. the atmosphere gradually eased into a strange, unexpected bond.

tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon proved to be surprisingly down-to-earth despite what the tabloids say, laughing at jeongyeon and dahyun’s stories about dealing with unruly celebrities and bar crowd.

“not gonna lie,” tzuyu said, looking around playfully. “i’ve been one of those uncontrollable patrons.”

“oh, you have,” dahyun smirked, crossing her arms. “met gala, last year, vomit.”

“oh my god,” she put a hand over her mouth with careful exaggeration. “no way, it was you?”

“you sure as hell are lucky it wasn’t jeongyeon!”

throughout dinner, sana stayed close to you —closer than she’d ever dared to in public. she held your hand under the table, her thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your skin. she even pressed a soft kiss to your forehead at one point, eliciting a few curious glances from your friends, who pretended not to notice.

“so, y/n,” nayeon began, a sly smile on her face. “how’s it been, working with sana? she’s not too much of a diva, is she?”

“she’s been fine,” you answered diplomatically, though the warmth in your voice was hard to miss.

“fine?” sana echoed, pouting slightly. “is that all you have to say about me?”

“you’re okay, too,” you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“wow, such high praise,” chaeyoung quipped, making everyone laugh.

beneath the humour, there was an unmistakable shift in the air. it was as if your secret had been revealed; acknowledged but not addressed.

everyone seemed to sense the connection between you and sana, but no one dared to bring it up directly.

after dinner, while everyone was chatting in the living room, jeongyeon pulled you aside into the kitchen. her expression was serious, her voice low.

“are you really okay, y/n?” she asked, searching your face.

“i am,” you said, though you knew she wasn’t just asking about the physical injury.

“you and sana, what’s going on there?” jeongyeon asked bluntly.

you hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “it’s complicated.”

“no kidding,” she said dryly. “but seriously, y/n. you’re getting in deep with her. are you ready for that?”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “i don’t know. it’s not like i planned for any of this to happen.”

“i get that,” jeongyeon said, her voice softening. “but just be careful, okay? she’s got a lot more power in this situation than you do.”

you nodded, appreciating the concern. “i know. but right now, i think she’s worth it.”

jeongyeon didn’t say anything more, but the look in her eyes said enough. she was worried for you, not just because of the obvious risks but because she knew how easy it was for someone like sana to break your heart — intentionally or not.

back in the living room, sana caught your eye and gave you a questioning look. you offered a reassuring smile and she immediately relaxed, resuming her conversation with tzuyu.

it was a small moment, but it meant everything in the context of your complicated relationship.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

by the fifth month of working for sana, your relationship had settled into an unexpected rhythm — one that was equal parts professional obligation and genuine attachment. there were still the usual challenges: sana’s diva moments, sudden mood swings and the pressure of keeping up with her unpredictable schedule. but there were also the quiet moments; late-night conversations on the balcony, her head resting on your shoulder as you both gazed at the city lights below.

meeting sana’s parents, however, was a different kind of challenge altogether. it was a sunny saturday afternoon when you were summoned to the minatozaki family estate, an opulent mansion that dwarfed even the luxury of sana’s usual residence.

the invitation was a surprise, but you had no choice but to accept, sana’s mother was adamant about meeting “the employee who’s lasted the longest.”

“relax,” sana whispered as you both stepped out of the car. she looked stunning in a pastel pink dress, her hair pulled back in an elegant bun. “they’re not as intimidating as they seem.”

you doubted that, but you nodded anyway, keeping your expression neutral. inside, you were a bundle of nerves.

the meeting, to your surprise, went better than expected. mr. and mrs. minatozaki were polite, even warm. they asked you a series of questions — mostly about your background, how you found the job and your experience working with their daughter. you answered truthfully, though you kept your personal feelings well-hidden.

“we appreciate your dedication, y/n,” mrs. minatozaki said with a smile. she was a poised woman, with a sharp gaze that seemed to see through people. “sana has never kept a bodyguard for this long. she must trust you a great deal.”

you felt a strange sense of pride at the comment, even as you maintained your composure. “thank you, ma’am. i’m just doing my job.”

“well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” mr. minatozaki added. “we’ve seen a positive change in sana since you started.”

sana blushed slightly at that, her usual confidence replaced with a hint of vulnerability. you couldn’t help but glance at her, and she caught your eye with a soft smile — one that was meant only for you.

later that night, sana gave you the rare gift of a night off. you returned to your apartment, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. the validation from sana’s parents was unexpected, and it lingered in your mind as you walked through the door.

jeongyeon, dahyun, mina, momo, and jihyo were all gathered in the living room, a mix of snacks and drinks spread out on the coffee table. it was meant to be a casual girls’ night, but you knew from their curious expressions that they were eager for more details.

“so, how’d it go?” jihyo asked, as soon as you stepped inside.

“with the parents?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you kicked off your shoes.

“yeah, obviously,” mina chimed in, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “we want to know everything.”

���it was fine,” you replied, plopping down on the couch beside momo. “they’re nice, surprisingly.”

“and?” momo prodded, grinning. “did they grill you? ask if you’re dating their daughter?”

“no,” you said quickly, though your cheeks felt warm. “it was just formal stuff…but i think they caught on.”

“boring,” mina teased, but her gaze was soft, clearly pleased that you hadn’t had a terrible time.

dahyun leaned forward, an amused glint in her eyes. “speaking of surprise meetings…did we tell you about how the heiresses showed up here last week?”

jihyo blinked, caught off guard. “wait, what? the four heiresses of the apocalypse?”

“oh yeah,” jeongyeon confirmed, laughing. “sana, tzuyu, chaeyoung, and nayeon came by. apparently, sana was worried about y/n’s pretty face.”

“they even brought gifts,” dahyun added, still looking mildly astonished. “for all of us.”

mina’s eyes widened. “wait, sana came here? and brought gifts? the world really is ending.”

“and she was super protective of y/n,” jeongyeon continued, smirking. “held her hand the whole time and even kissed her forehead.”

“whoa,” momo said, her jaw dropping theatrically. “y/n, you’ve got it bad.”

“it’s not like that,” you protested weakly, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

jihyo crossed her arms, looking unconvinced. “sounds pretty serious to me.”

“serious or not,” mina interjected gently, “you seem happy, y/n. we’re just worried, you know? she’s…a lot. like, powerful.”

you sighed, grateful for their concern but also conflicted. “i know she is. but it’s complicated, my contract’s about to end.”

“extend it you goof,” dahyun giggled. “you get paid whilst dating your boss? sounds pretty sweet to me.”

“we’re not dating!”

“yet,” mina sighed.

“yeah, yeah,” you groaned, grabbing a handful of skittles and shoving them into your mouth. “whatever you say.”

as the evening went on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics — gossip about work, updates on personal lives and reminiscing about old times.

the final weeks of your contract approached quickly, and the impending end of your time with sana hung over both of you like a dark cloud. there were still stolen moments, secret kisses in the back of cars, whispered confessions late at night yet the tension was growing. you hadn’t told her about your decision yet, but she seemed to sense that something was off.

one afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside sana in the mansion’s garden, the autumn air cool and crisp. she was unusually quiet, a distant look in her eyes as she gazed at the small koi pond.

you often caught yourself watching her, memorising the way she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled when she teased you, or the way she absentmindedly reached for your hand when she thought no one was looking. it was getting harder to keep your feelings hidden, but you knew that admitting your love would make leaving even more painful.

“you know, i used to come here a lot when i was a kid,” she said suddenly, her voice soft and tinged with nostalgia. “back when things were simpler. my mother would bring me here after her meetings. she’d always tell me that the koi fish represented strength and resilience.”

you watched her as she spoke, the sadness in her voice palpable. it was rare for her to share such personal memories and you felt honoured, even as it added to the weight in your chest.

“and sometimes,” she continued, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips, “hana and misaki would sneak me sweets from the kitchen. they were always so kind to me, treating me like i was just one of their girls instead of…well, me.”

you tried to smile but your thoughts were elsewhere; focused on the fact that you didn’t belong in this world of koi ponds and lavish mansions. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were simply a temporary fixture in her life.

“y/n?” sana’s voice broke through your thoughts, her tone laced with concern. “are you okay? you seem distant.”

you hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “i’m fine, just a lot on my mind.”

she tilted her head, studying you with those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through your defenses. “is it about us?”

“i don’t know where i stand in your life,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “and i’m not sure i belong here.”

“of course you belong here,” she said instantly, her voice filled with an urgency that startled you. “you’re important to me, y/n. more than you think.”

you turned to look at her, searching for any hint of doubt in her eyes, but all you saw was sincerity. “how important?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m just your bodyguard.”

“you’re not just anything,” she insisted, reaching out to take your hand. “my love, you’ve become…so much more than that. you’re the person i look for in every room.”

her confession hit you hard, but instead of relief, it only deepened your internal conflict. “your life is too different from mine. you have everything — money, status, opportunities. i can’t compete with that, i have nothing to give.”

“i’m not asking you to compete,” she said, squeezing your hand tighter. “i’m asking you to stay.”

the raw vulnerability in her voice nearly broke your resolve. you wanted so desperately to say yes, to promise her a future that felt impossible. but the practical side of you, the side that had always been wary of hope — kept you grounded.

“it’s not that simple,” you said, your voice cracking. “what happens when i’m no longer part of this world? when your life goes on, and i’m just a memory?”

“i don’t want you to be a memory,” she said fiercely, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “i want you here. with me.”

the sincerity in her words shattered something inside you. it was everything you wanted to hear, but also everything that scared you the most.

“sana,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “i never meant to fall in love with you.”

your confession catches her off guard. “then why are you pushing me away?”

“because loving you feels too dangerous,” you admitted, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “i’m terrified of what will happen if i stay.”

“then let’s be terrified together,” she said, her own tears finally breaking free. “we don’t have to figure everything out right now. please don’t give up on us before we even start. i’m in love with you, i’ve been in love with you from the beginning.”

her plea hung in the air, desperate, as the weight of your decision pressed down on you. staying meant risking everything: your heart, your future, your sense of self.

in that moment, with her hand holding yours and her eyes full of hope, the idea of leaving felt even more unbearable.

you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, not yet. instead, you squeezed her hand back, a silent acknowledgment of the love that had grown between you, even if it felt too fragile to last.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the decision not to renew your contract weighed on you like an impending storm. and as if to reinforce your decision, the universe seemed intent on reminding you of the vast gap between your reality and sana’s.

sana was used to being around the rich, the famous, and the powerful. her social circles included heirs, models, and celebrities — people who shared her lifestyle and effortlessly fit into her world.

you, on the other hand, often felt like an outsider peering in, a temporary presence among the permanent fixtures of her life.

one evening, at an exclusive charity gala, you found yourself in a large, glittering ballroom, filled with the one percent of the world. sana, dressed in a stunning emerald gown, was the center of attention as always.

standing beside her, you remained alert, your gaze trained on the crowd.

and then, there he was — one of sana’s suitors, a man who seemed perfectly tailored for her life. tall, impeccably dressed and oozing charisma, he approached with a confident smile.

“sana,” he greeted warmly, extending a hand. “it’s good to see you.”

“hello hiroshi,” she replied, her voice pleasant but distant. you noticed a flicker of discomfort in her eyes, but she masked it well.

hiroshi, the heir to a luxury conglomerate, was a familiar face at events like these. you’d heard whispers about him before; he was one of the many eligible bachelors rumoured to be pursuing sana.

“you look beautiful tonight,” hiroshi continued, his voice smooth.

“thank you,” she said politely, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. she glanced at you briefly, a silent reassurance that felt hollow amidst the glamour.

the evening dragged on, with more suitors and admirers approaching sana, each one embodying the wealth and prestige you couldn’t compete with. they all seemed so polished, so effortlessly at ease in her world.

every time she exchanged a polite smile or a charming laugh, you felt yourself pulling further away, retreating into your own insecurities.

then came the moment that felt like the final blow.

at another event a few weeks later, held at one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, you found yourself standing at a distance, watching sana from across the room. she was engaged in conversation with a group of old friends, including one you recognised immediately — her ex-boyfriend, jake.

he was a well-known musician, popular and adored by many. his easy charm and confident presence were evident as he chatted with sana, their laughter echoing above the hum of the party.

he was everything you weren’t — wealthy, famous, and someone who had once been deeply embedded in sana’s life.

the crowd seemed to love the idea of them together. cheers and playful shouts of encouragement rang out as someone raised a glass in their direction.

“come on, get back together!” someone yelled, and the room erupted in lighthearted agreement.

sana’s face flushed slightly, but she maintained her composure, laughing it off. “stop it,” she chided, her tone playful but firm.

you felt a sickening twist in your gut, watching her interact so effortlessly with jake. they looked good together.

you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that it was just an old relationship, but seeing them together made you painfully aware of how small you felt in her world.

“what a couple, huh?” a staff member mumbled to you.

“yeah, i guess,” you turned away, unable to watch any longer.

it was a reminder of why you’d made your decision: you didn’t belong here. you were just a temporary part of her life, someone who would eventually be replaced by someone like jake or hiroshi — someone who fit in.

later that night, as you both drove back to her residence, sana seemed unusually quiet. you could sense that she had noticed your change in mood, but you weren’t ready to talk about it.

not yet.

“y/n my love,” she finally said as you reached her front door, her voice hesitant. “are you okay? you’ve been distant all night.”

“i’m fine,” you lied, avoiding her gaze. “just tired.”

“is it…about jake?” she asked, her tone soft, as if afraid of your answer.

you hesitated, then shook your head. “it’s not just him. it’s everything, sana. all of this — your world, the people in it. it’s too different from mine.”

“but i don’t care about that,” she insisted, stepping closer. “i care about you.”

“and that’s exactly why i have to leave,” you said, your voice breaking. “i don’t want to be the one who holds you back, the one who can’t match up to the life you deserve.”

“you’re not holding me back,” she protested, tears welling up in her eyes. “you’re the only real thing in my life.”

“but i’ll always be just the bodyguard,” you said, your heart shattering with every word. “and you’ll always be the heiress.”

“you’re more than that,” she pleaded, grabbing your arm. “can’t you see that?”

“i can’t,” you whispered, your voice filled with pain. “because this will never work, not in the way you want it to.”

she stared at you, her expression a mix of desperation and heartbreak. “so, that’s it? you’ve already made up your mind?”

“yes,” you admitted, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “i have.”

“so, when were you going to tell me?” she asked, voice cracking but her stare was cold.

“i was going to tell you,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible above the hum of the car engine. “i just didn’t know how.”

“didn’t know how?” she repeated, her tone turning sharp. “you were just going to disappear without even talking to me?”

“it’s not like that!”

“then what is it like?” she demanded, her eyes blazing with hurt and betrayal. “are you just like everyone else, y/n? were you using me this whole time?”

“no,” you said, feeling a surge of desperation. “you know that’s not true.”

“then why?” she asked, her voice breaking. “why are you leaving?”

“because i don’t belong in your world,” you said, your own voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “i’ve told you that over and over again.”

“i never cared about that,” she shouted, her face flushed with anger and tears. “i care about you, y/n. i’ve given you everything i have, and it still isn’t enough?”

“that’s not fair,” you shot back, feeling your own anger rise. “it’s not about what you’ve given me. it’s about what i can’t give you. you’ll always have to explain why you’re with someone like me.”

“i never asked you to be anything else!” she yelled, her voice breaking completely. “i just wanted you to stay.”

“and that’s what makes this so hard,” you said, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “i love you, sana. but loving you isn’t enough to make this work.”

the car pulled up to the mansion, but neither of you moved to get out. the driver glanced nervously in the rearview mirror, unsure of what to do.

“get out,” sana said suddenly, her voice low but firm.

you hesitated, unsure if she meant it literally or figuratively. “sana —”

“get out,” she repeated, her voice rising. “we’re finishing this conversation inside.”

you both stepped out of the car, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. she stormed up the steps, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor and you followed, feeling the impending doom settle in your chest.

as soon as you were inside the mansion, the argument erupted again.

“you’re a coward,” she spat, her voice echoing through the grand hall. “you’re just running away because it’s easier than staying.”

“it’s not about running away,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “it’s about facing reality.”

“reality?” she laughed bitterly, her eyes wild with emotion. “the reality is that you’re too scared to take a chance on us.”

“because i know how this ends,” you said, your own voice rising now. “it ends with me being a burden in your life, a constant reminder of what doesn’t fit.”

“you’re not a burden!” she screamed, her face streaked with tears. “you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like me, not just the heiress, not just the brand.”

the sound of footsteps approaching caught both of your attention, and you turned to see mr. and mrs. minatozaki standing at the top of the grand staircase, looking shocked and concerned.

“what’s going on here?” mrs. minatozaki asked, her voice filled with alarm.

“stay out of this, mother,” sana said, her voice raw. “this is between me and y/n.”

“sana,” her father tried to interject, his voice gentle. “we can talk about this calmly —”

“there’s nothing to talk about,” she cut him off, her eyes fixed on you. “y/n wants to leave. she doesn’t think she belongs here.”

“because i don’t,” you said quietly, your voice filled with an agonising finality. “i’ll never be able to give you the life you deserve.”

“what i deserve?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “what i deserve is to be with someone who loves me enough to stay.”

“and what if that love isn’t enough?” you asked, your heart breaking as the words left your lips. “what if it only causes more pain?”

“then we face it together,” she said, her voice softening for the first time. “but you’ve already given up, you decided for us without even talking to me.”

the truth in her words was undeniable and it left you feeling exposed and helpless. you had given up; not because you didn’t love her, but because you were terrified of what loving her meant.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

her expression hardened again, a mix of anger, heartbreak and resignation. “sorry isn’t enough.”

“i know,” you said, your voice barely audible.

she stared at you for a long moment, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs. then, with a coldness that felt like a final blow, she uttered the word that shattered everything between you.

“leave.”

“sana, please —”

“i said, leave,” she repeated, her voice empty now. “before i regret you.”

you didn’t move for a moment, unable to believe it was really ending like this but her eyes were dead serious and you knew there was no room for negotiation.

with a final look, you turned and walked toward the door, each step feeling like a nail in your heart. you could hear her sobs behind you, raw and uncontrollable, but you didn’t turn back.

it was for the better.

as the mansion doors closed behind you, the enormity of what you’d lost crashed over you like a wave. you had thought leaving would hurt less than staying, but now, as you stood on the steps of the life you could have had, you realised you had never been more wrong.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it had been nearly two months since you left the minatozaki mansion, but the wounds felt as fresh as ever. you were still trying to move forward, but most days felt like you were just treading water, struggling to keep from sinking beneath the weight of your own heartbreak.

you had saved up enough money to pay for the next six months of rent and food, but there was no joy in the security it offered. it just felt like a countdown to more loneliness.

despite your efforts to stay away from news about sana, you couldn’t avoid the headlines completely.

she had been partying non-stop, her face appearing on every tabloid cover — smiling but empty-eyed, reckless but lost. there were photos of her stumbling out of clubs, surrounded by people who seemed more like shadows than friends. one image stood out in particular: sana, arm-in-arm with jake, her ex, looking disheveled and drained.

the caption suggested they were rekindling their romance, but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it — or perhaps, you didn’t want to.

you tried to drown your sorrows in alcohol, spending most nights at a small bar nearby. it was dark and dingy, a stark contrast to the places you’d been with sana, but it felt fitting. the drinks were cheap, and the bartender never asked questions.

“are you okay?” jihyo asked one night when she found you slumped over your kitchen table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside you. her voice was full of worry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lie.

“no,” you admitted, your voice hollow. “i’m not.”

“this isn’t like you, y/n,” she said, her eyes filled with concern. “you’re not the type to just give up.”

“maybe i am now,” you replied, taking another swig from the bottle. “maybe i never should’ve tried in the first place.”

jihyo reached out, her hand squeezing yours. “we’re here for you, okay? no matter what.”

their support felt distant, muted by the constant ache of missing sana. you knew your friends were worried; how you barely ate, how you showed up to gatherings disheveled and silent, a shadow of who you used to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days later, when you were nursing a hangover from another lonely night at the bar, your phone rang. it was an unknown number, and you hesitated before answering.

“hello?”

“y/n?” a familiar voice asked, tentative but warm. it was mrs. minatozaki.

“yes, this is y/n,” you confirmed, surprised. “mrs. minatozaki?”

“i’m sorry to call you like this,” she began gently. “but my husband and i were hoping you could come to the mansion. there’s something we need to discuss with you.”

you felt a wave of apprehension, unsure of what to expect. but something in her tone; soft, almost pleading — made it impossible for you to say no.

“i’ll be there,” you agreed quietly.

the mansion felt as imposing as ever when you arrived, its grandeur a stark reminder of the world you had tried to leave behind. you were greeted by the familiar staff, who offered polite smiles before leading you to a cozy sitting room. mrs. minatozaki was already seated on a velvet armchair, her husband standing beside her with a solemn expression.

“thank you for coming, y/n,” mrs. minatozaki said warmly, gesturing for you to sit. “we know this isn’t easy for you.”

“what’s going on?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “is it about sana?”

“yes,” mr. minatozaki replied, his tone serious but gentle. “she’s…not doing well. we’re very worried about her.”

“we thought she would eventually find a way to cope,” mrs. minatozaki added, her voice breaking slightly. “but it’s clear now that she’s just trying to numb the pain.”

you felt a stab of guilt, even though you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. “i’m sorry,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t mean to hurt her like this.”

“we know,” mr. minatozaki said softly. “and that’s why we wanted to talk to you.”

“sana has always been a passionate person,” mrs. minatozaki continued. “but she’s never loved anyone the way she loves you. we’ve seen her with past lovers — there was never this depth of feeling, never this kind of vulnerability.”

her words hit you hard, and you struggled to process them. “but i don’t fit into this world,” you said, your voice filled with insecurity. “i’m just —“

“and that’s exactly why we accept you,” mr. minatozaki said firmly. “you love our daughter for who she is, not for what she represents. we don’t care about the gossip or the opinions of others. we care about her happiness.”

“it’s true,” mrs. minatozaki added, her eyes filled with a quiet intensity. “we want you to know that you have our support completely.”

tears welled up in your eyes at their words, the acceptance and understanding you’d never thought you’d receive.

“thank you,” you whispered, overwhelmed. “i just…i don’t know if she’ll want me back.”

before they could respond, the sound of commotion erupted from the foyer. voices, urgent and alarmed, echoed through the mansion’s grand halls.

“what’s happening?” mrs. minatozaki asked, standing up abruptly.

a moment later, two security guards entered the room, struggling to support a barely-conscious sana. her makeup was smudged, her hair disheveled, and her eyes half-closed. she was clearly intoxicated, her legs barely able to hold her weight.

“sana!” mrs. minatozaki exclaimed, rushing over.

“we found her like this outside a club,” one of the guards explained apologetically. “she insisted on coming home.”

your heart broke at the sight of her, the reckless desperation evident in every inch of her being. without a second thought, you stepped forward.

“let me take care of her,” you said softly, moving to her side.

sana’s eyes fluttered open, but they were unfocused, clouded by alcohol and exhaustion. “y/n?” she slurred, her voice thick with confusion.

“it’s me,” you said gently, your hand brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “i’m here.”

“no, you’re not real,” she mumbled, her head lolling against your shoulder. “you’re just… another dream.”

“i’m real,” you insisted. “i promise, i’m real.”

her body went limp against you, and you struggled to support her weight. with help from the guards, you managed to get her upstairs and into her bedroom. she collapsed onto the bed, her breaths shallow and uneven.

you stayed by her side through the night, watching over her as she tossed and turned in her sleep. her face was flushed, her expression troubled even in unconsciousness. you couldn’t help but reach out, your fingers lightly tracing the back of her hand, hoping that somehow, your touch could offer her peace.

the next morning, sana stirred awake, her head pounding and her mouth dry. she squinted against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, her vision slowly focusing. when she saw you sitting beside the bed, her eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over her.

“y/n?” she asked, her voice hoarse and hesitant.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her eyes. “how are you feeling?”

“like shit,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “but why…why are you here?”

“your parents called me,” you explained gently. “they were worried about you. i was worried too.”

sana’s eyes filled with tears, her shoulders shaking with the weight of everything she’d been holding back. “i thought i lost you,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “i thought you were really gone.”

“i thought i was gone too,” you admitted, your own tears falling. “but i realised that leaving you hurt more than anything else.”

“you’re not just saying that because my mother asked you to come, are you?” she asked, her vulnerability laid bare.

“no,” you said, reaching out to take her hand. “i’m saying it because i love you. and i want to be with you — no matter what.”

her lips trembled as she tried to hold back more tears. “i want that, too.”

you took a deep breath, feeling the fear and hope collide within you. “if you still want me,” you said, your voice steady despite the tremble in your heart. “i want to try again. for real this time.”

sana’s sobs turned into laughter, a mix of relief and disbelief. “of course i want you,” she said, reaching for your hand. “i’m sorry, i’ve always wanted you.”

you pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling her body relax against yours. she buried her face in your neck, her breath warm against your skin.

“i’m sorry, too,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “for the photos, for being so reckless. none of it was true, i just wanted to forget.”

“i know,” you said, stroking her hair gently. “but we don’t have to forget. we just have to move forward.”

“together?” she asked, looking up at you with a mix of hope and fear.

“together,” you confirmed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

later that evening, as you lay tangled in each other’s arms, sana’s breathing slow and steady against your chest, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. it wasn’t going to be easy but you were ready to face it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

[jiminomenon]

model! karina cheers assistant! reader up

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 1k+

summary: y/n was having an absolutely miserable morning, and everyone—including jimin—felt the effects of her foul mood. snapping at people left and right, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but of course, jimin had other plans. unwilling to deal with a sulky assistant all day, the spoiled model took it upon herself to fix y/n’s mood—whether she wanted her to or not.

from my series: the devil wears prada

y/n knew it was going to be a bad day the moment she woke up. her alarm didn’t go off, meaning she had to rush through her morning routine. her coffee machine—her lifeline—refused to work. then, as if the universe was out to get her, she stepped outside only to be met with pouring rain and no umbrella. by the time she arrived at jimin’s penthouse, drenched, exhausted, and running purely on frustration, she was already dangerously close to losing her patience.

“you’re late,” jimin commented, lounging on the couch with a cup of steaming coffee in her perfectly manicured hands. she didn’t even need coffee that morning; she just liked the aesthetic of holding it.

y/n shot her a sharp glare as she squeezed water out of her sleeves. “gee, thanks for the observation, sherlock.”

jimin raised an eyebrow at the attitude but didn’t say anything. yet.

the day only got worse from there. y/n had back-to-back calls, urgent emails, and a schedule to fix because someone (cough jimin cough) decided she didn’t feel like attending a certain shoot last minute. every little inconvenience grated on her nerves, and soon, she found herself snapping at anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way.

even the model herself.

“ugh, can you stop hovering?” y/n snapped when jimin followed her into the kitchen, watching her struggle to open a stubborn bottle of water.

jimin, who usually had a snarky comeback for everything, simply tilted her head. “you’re in a bad mood.”

“no shit.”

instead of getting annoyed like usual, jimin just hummed. “hmm. i don’t like this.”

y/n scoffed. “well, i don’t like today, but here we are.”

jimin didn’t leave her alone after that. in fact, she made it her mission to pester y/n. during meetings, she’d text her ridiculous things like ‘what if i got bangs? do u think i’d look hotter?’ or ‘i saw a dog today. it was ugly. reminded me of you.’ ‘go get princess that new limited edition cat dress from givenchy’

when that didn’t work, she started physically annoying her—poking her arm, pulling on the sleeve of her blazer, even stealing her pen when she was trying to write something down.

“jimin, i swear to god—”

“oh, look at that. you’re saying my name now instead of ‘ms. yu.’ progress!” jimin smirked.

y/n groaned, rubbing her temples. “what do you want?”

“you, but less grumpy.”

“not happening.”

jimin gasped dramatically. “so mean. what happened to my lovely assistant?”

“she’s dead. may she rest in peace.”

but of course, jimin never knew how to give up. later in the afternoon, she disappeared for a while, only to return holding—of all things—y/n’s favorite pastry from that overpriced bakery she always talked about.

y/n blinked. “where did you get that?”

“doesn’t matter.” jimin placed it in front of her. “eat it.”

y/n frowned. “why are you being nice?”

jimin rolled her eyes. “i’m always nice.”

y/n snorted. “you’re never nice.”

“and yet, here i am, doing charity work by cheering up my grumpy little assistant.”

y/n stared at her, then at the pastry, then back at her. ugh. she hated to admit it, but… it was kind of sweet. with a sigh, she finally took a bite.

jimin watched her expectantly. “better?”

y/n chewed, pretending to think. “eh. a little.”

jimin smirked. “knew it.”

y/n shook her head but couldn’t fight the small smile forming on her lips. maybe today wasn’t completely terrible. as much as y/n hated to admit it, jimin’s efforts were helping. just a little. but she wasn’t about to give the bratty model that satisfaction so easily.

jimin, however, was relentless.

“so,” jimin started as she plopped down onto the couch beside y/n, far too close for comfort. “what else do i have to do to make you stop sulking? want me to book you a vacation? buy you a new car? oh, wait—maybe you want me to drive you around in said car. imagine that, ms. assistant, getting chauffeured by me.”

y/n shot her a deadpan look. “why do you sound like a rich old man trying to solve his problems with money?”

jimin gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in fake offense. “how dare you? i am far from an old man.”

“you have the attitude of one.”

jimin narrowed her eyes. “you really are in a mood today.”

y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “look, i appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but i just… i need some space, okay?”

jimin frowned. she didn’t like that answer. not one bit. y/n was hers to annoy, to pester, to keep close—space was not part of their arrangement. but instead of voicing her complaints, she stayed quiet for a moment, thinking.

then, out of nowhere, she got up and disappeared into the other room. y/n didn’t think much of it at first—jimin was unpredictable like that. but a few minutes later, she returned with something in her hands.

a blanket.

before y/n could ask, jimin tossed it over her, making sure it covered her entire body.

“…what are you doing?” y/n mumbled from under the fabric.

“i’m tucking you in. obviously.”

“tucking me in? i’m not a child.”

jimin scoffed. “well, you’re acting like one.”

y/n huffed, but she was too exhausted to argue. the weight of the blanket was warm and oddly comforting. she peered up at jimin, who was looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“…why are you being nice?” y/n finally asked.

jimin crossed her arms. “you’re annoying when you’re in a bad mood. and if this is what it takes to make you stop being annoying, then fine. i’ll allow it.”

y/n gave her a look. “wow. you really suck at being genuine.”

“and yet, here i am, taking care of your grumpy ass,” jimin quipped back.

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the tiny smile tugging at her lips. she sighed, finally letting the tension melt from her shoulders. maybe jimin’s ways were unconventional, but at the end of the day, she did make her feel better.

“thanks, i guess,” y/n muttered, barely audible.

jimin smirked. “huh? what was that?”

y/n groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. “don’t push it, yu.”

but the way jimin’s smirk softened into something almost fond did not go unnoticed.

“just rest for now, m’kay? be in a better mood when you wake up.”