#hope you will enjoy what I have to share before “the end”

[cheapshrimpysheep]

A Rainy Walk

SUMMARY: He invites you to go with him on one of his club's outings, but the weather is revealed, belatedly, tto be inappropriate and perhaps even dangerous for what should be a pleasant moment together.

CHARACTERS: Mountain Lover Club (Jade Leech) / Gargoyle Studies Club (Malleus Draconia)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Flirting; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 2.370 words per character.

COMMENTS: In Jade's part, as a person who doesn't like hiking, I wanted to create a way for both those who like it and those who don't to be able to insert themselves. So I made the reader twist an ankle.

I hope you enjoy it. 🌧️⛈️

OTHER CLUBS:

But… We Lost… - Basketball Club (Ace / Floyd / Jamil)

Romantic Experiment - Science Club (Trey / Rook)

For a Quarter of a Second - Track and Field Club (Deuce / Jack)

Unlucky Overtime - Spelldrive Club (Leona / Ruggie / Epel)

P.S.: I don't know what's going on with me to make me start writing so much.

.

You had gone to the Mostro Lounge, as you do from time to time with Grim, Ace and Deuce for a snack. When Jade comes to your table to take your orders, he informs you that he has prepared a new dessert and would love for you all to try it and tell him what you think.

“Myaah yeah, I'll take any-” Grim starts to say excitedly, until he remembers who he's talking to. “Wait... what do you want?”

“Me? I would just like to know if this new dessert I made has a pleasant taste. And who better than some of our best customers to tell me?” He smiles and proceeds to describe something you would absolutely love to eat.

“Funny, that really sounds like (Y/N)'s favorite desserts. ” Deuce says.

“Truly? What a coincidence.”

“Which I'm sure it isn't.” Ace adds. “Come on Jade, tell us what you really want in return. We might even consider it.”

“Very well.” he smiled amusedly. “It would cost you 17 thaumark each.” Everyone is shocked by that price for a small dessert. “However, I have another proposal.” you see his sharp teeth through the smile for a second. “I believe you know that I am a member of the Mountain Lover Club. This weekend, I'm planning on waking up before dawn to head to the mountains so I can see a flower that only blooms in the early hours of the day.” He looks at you. “And they are such charming flowers that I would love to share this experience with... someone. Perhaps (Y/N)?” If you accept, I can give you all a discount and the dessert will only be 8 thaumark.”

“Did you really need to do all this ruse?” Grim asks annoyed. “Why don't you just ask (Y/N) out?”

“Because that wouldn't be as thrilling, would it? Fu fu.”

“My wallet doesn't need any thrilling, thank you very much.” Ace comments. “And 8 still seems a little pricey for this type of dessert.” he tries to haggle.

“Five each if you let (Y/N) come alone with me.”

They looked at each other as if they were between a rock and a hard place.

“Deal!” You say. After all, you also have a crush on Jade.

Jade laughs seeing your friends' worried faces.

“There's nothing to worry about, gentlemen. I will make sure (Y/N) gets home safe and on time. We can even bring you souvenirs if you’d like. I would be happy to share the wonders of the mountains with all of you as well.”

~

He could have promised to keep you safe and sound on the mountain, but unfortunately, he couldn't do anything, nor was he prepared for something to happen to you before the hike. In one of your Physical Education classes you ended up twisting your ankle and it wouldn't heal in time for the day of the hike. You were in the infirmary when Jade came to check on you.

“(Y/N), I heard about your accident in Professor Vargas' class.” Jade tells you with pity, or at least it seems like it. It's hard to know when it's genuine concern. “But may I confirm with you that it was indeed just an accident?”

You confirm that it was just your foot that slipped, a little confused by that question.

“Very well. Don't worry, I believe in you. But you know that if there is a classmate who is less... pleasant with you, you can tell me.” He says with a sweet smile before forming his toothy little grin. “I can have a reasonable little conversation with them.”

You assure him that it wasn't any other student's fault that made you end up like this. At worst, it was Grim's mischief to blame. Jade chuckles.

“But it was quite unfortunate that it happened right before our hike in the mountain. However, I thought of a way for you to be able to accompany me, if you still wish to do so.”

~

On the day of the hike, or rather, that night before dawn, Jade appeared at Ramshackle Dorm door and sent you a message asking if you were ready. He asked for permission to enter the dormitory and go to your room and when he arrived he had with him a flying broom with a special cushioned seat for you. Since it's still going to be a bit of a long walk, he thought that maybe the broom like you normally use in class might be a bit uncomfortable. You could accompany him on the hike sitting on the broom and that way you wouldn't have to walk and strain your feet.

“Would you like me to help you get on the broom?” He asks politely.

If you accept his help, he will gently hold you by the waist and place you in the seat.

“The weather forecasts have been a bit... surprising.” Jade says with an enigmatic smile. “The predictions have proven to be quite inaccurate recently. There is a chance of some rain so I advise you to take an umbrella. But you should also put on sunscreen and wear a hat. Hats are essential when sketching outdoors. I got horribly sunburned once when I grew too absorbed in my work.”

Jade was dressed for the occasion from head to toe. He even wore a long coat full of pockets and was carrying a camping backpack. But in your case, he didn't ask you to take much more than necessary.

As you were walking at night, Jade took a lantern with him and placed another one on the end of your broom. He was using his magic to lead the broom like someone leading a horse by the reins. He took you through the Dark Mirror to the Dwarfs' Mountain. It was a full moon night and it was beautiful. It shouldn't be long before the moon disappeared and gave way to dawn and at that height it was beautiful to see.

“They advise anyone who hike at night to do so on a full moon night, as this is the phase in which the moon provides the best natural lighting. However, if I'm correct it shouldn't be long until dawn. Maybe 30 to 45 minutes. The flower location is also not far from here, we will get there in time even if we take it slow and appreciate what surrounds us. Feel free to ask me anything if you see something that catches your interest.” He smiles and begins the hike.

If you do as he suggests and ask him about something you see or simply what his hikes are usually like, he'll be very happy to tell you anything you want to know. And if you ask him about some type of mushroom, he'll be even happier.

“I appreciate your willingness to listen to me talk about the mountains. I started to tell Floyd my thoughts about hiking in the mountains, and he nodded off not even a minute in.” Jade was telling you, “What a shame we cannot enjoy this hobby together.” when he felt something in his nose. “Hm?”

You also feel something on your nose, then on your forehead, on your cheek...

“Looks like this is your cue to open your umbrella.” He tells you. “So that is why it seemed like it was taking so long for dawn to come, the clouds are covering the sun. Fortunately... we arrived.”

You open your umbrella, it's not raining much yet. You see a small field between the trees and full of closed flowers. When you look at Jade, you see that something seems to be bothering him and you ask what he was thinking.

“Oh, you noticed.” he smiles, as if he had been caught. “I was thinking about these flowers. It says they bloom in the early hours of the day, but I don't remember if they would do so regardless of whether they received direct sunlight or not. It would be a shame not to be able to achieve our main objective.”

And then the sky gets darker and the rain starts to get heavier.

“Oh no, it doesn't look like it's going to be a light rain. You should take shelter. The mine is nearby, let's go there.”

“I should take shelter? What about you?”

“Well, it's not like water bothers me, remember? Fu fu~” He laughs amusedly.

Jade takes you by the broom to the inside of the mine, not far from the entrance, just enough to take shelter and still see the outside. As soon as you sat down on the ground the rain seemed to turn into a storm.

“Oh dear! I've never seen the weather forecast fail so badly.” he says with that toothy smile, probably enjoying the surprise a little too much. But then he looks at you. “I'm so sorry I brought you out into the middle of a storm this early in the morning. I really wanted to see those flowers with you. It seems I was reckless and let myself be carried away by impulse.”

He sees you shaking a little.

“Oh! I hadn't even realized how much the temperature had dropped. Here.” He takes off his long coat and offers it to you to put on. “I appreciate your concern, but there's no need to worry about me. I have excellent resistance to cold, remember? Speaking of your well-being, how is your ankle?”

You weren't wearing the shoe on your injured foot, but a thick sock over the bandages. That cold was good for your ankle, but terrible for the rest of your foot, especially your toes.

“Yes, as I imagined. Let me take care of you until we are able to go back to school. It's the least I can do after putting you through all this while you're still recovering.”

He looked at you with concern, but you've seen that "concerned" expression a few times before.

“You're looking at me so suspiciously. That is quite hurtful. You should know how careful I am, especially in a situation like this.”

But he still had that smile that, whoever knows him, knows there is something behind it. And so you ask him if you're going to be indebted to him after that. If there's one thing you learned from Octavinelle, it's not to accept any favor from them without knowing the terms and conditions of it.

“Fu fu fu...” his charismatic smile becomes his true smile, the one with his teeth showing. “I'm glad to see that you learned such a valuable lesson from us, (Y/N). But there is another one that we may need to teach you better. And that is the ability to realize when you have the advantage. Remember how you agreed to accompany me in exchange for a discount on the desserts? We were even then. In the case of the broom I provided, in exchange, you would offer me your company even though you were injured. In that case, I might be at a disadvantage. Since I was risking your injury getting worse by bringing you away from the protection of your home. And now, that risk has become real. Which means I'm the one who owes you this time. Which means I am the one who is in debt to you at the moment. Due to my poor decision of a date with a suitable weather for the hike. Any treatment I provide you will only and slimply make me pay my debt. Do you feel safer accepting my offer under these conditions?”

Everything he said made sense. And while the Octavinelle trio have a tendency to create shady agreements and contracts, they don't necessarily lie. They can do it by omission, but this is not the case, so you accept.

You are sitting on the mine floor with the same pillow that supported you on the broom. Jade sits in front of you and asks you to stretch your legs so he can put them over his. He takes off the sock that covered your foot and uses magic to warm your foot with the exception of the ankle that needs the cold. And while this heating magic is taking effect he massages your ankle and feet, in a way that is appropriate and specific for a sprained ankle. He was really good at it.

“There's another thing we've been even from the beginning.” he says with a smirk and without looking at you yet. “Grim was right, I wanted to go out with you. But...” He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, barely moving his head. “You wanted to go out with me as well... didn't you, (Y/N)?”

He sees you smiling, perhaps shyly, and takes it as a green light. He takes your feet from his lap and places them gently on the ground, then stretches out towards you, supporting himself on his hands, like a cat slowly approaching.

“I really feel horrible for putting you in this situation.” But he doesn't say this with regret, but rather in a purposefully seductive way. “I wonder what I can do to redeem myself? Especially if it lasts as long as it looks like it will. Making you wait here uncomfortably for so long will create a huge debt for me towards you.” He brings his face even closer to yours, with a smile as inviting as his heterochromatic eyes. “Tell me... what can I do to ease this situation?”

He won't kiss you. He'll wait patiently for you to do it first. Or better yet... for you to order him to kiss you.

“As you wish~” He says and kisses you passionately.

Rainy weather tends to get a person down, and that's what was happening to you too. Even though you may enjoy listening to the rain outside, it's never good when you have to go back to your dorm. Especially with Grim complaining.

Grim managed to get to Ramshackle Dorm dry because he made you to carry him. You, on the other hand, had your legs and feet stuck in water. It was when you were going up the stairs to change your clothes in your room that you saw some little and familiar green lights around you.

You turn around and go to the door. When you open it you see Malleus with a large umbrella and dressed in black waterproof clothes and a raincoat.

“Good afternoon, Child of Man.” Malleus greets you with a polite smile. “I couldn't help but notice you less cheerful and smiling than usual these past few days. I think it even coincided with the arrival of the rainy weather. Would the two be connected?”

You tell him yes. Maybe you don't like rain at all, or maybe you only like rain when you can sit inside and enjoy the sound. Either way, you don't like being out in the rain and risking catching a cold.

“Oh yes, that is true... a simple rain can make a human sick. But I believe that having wet clothes such as yours can also contribute to a possible sickness, am I correct?” he asks and you confirm. “Allow me to help you dry faster.”

“You're not going to use fire magic on me, are you?” you ask slightly worried.

“Yes, I was about to. Why so worried about it?”

“Because you can burn me with it.”

“Burn? Oh, no, I wasn't going to use direct fire. I know that fire hurts other living beings. I was going to use a variation of fire magic that just changes the temperature around certain objects. I have used it several times to dry my own clothes. You seem more relieved. Will you allow me to use it then?”

You accept and he uses his magic to dry your pants, shoes and socks in a second.

“You know, I personally quite appreciate this weather. It's perfect for the Gargoyle Studies Club because we can watch them perform their main function. Or at least I can see them. I would love to share this sight with you. Perhaps it could help you feel a little better on days like these. What do you say? Do you accept my invitation?” He smiles excitedly, which is also cute.

You say you'd love to, but you don't have rain gear like his.

“There is no need for this to be a deterrent. I'll be more than happy to provide you with suitable clothing.” He uses his magic again and changes your uniform into the same set of rain gear he was wearing. Seeing you in those clothes makes him smile even more. “They seem to suit you well.”

“But how do I go with you?” You ask. “Don't you usually fly up to the gargoyles?”

“I do. I was thinking, if you're comfortable with it, that I could carry you in my arms. Like I saw you doing with Grim just now when you were coming back home. This umbrella is big enough for two people. But if you prefer, I can also give you another umbrella and we can ask Coach Vargas for one of the flying brooms.”

You admit that you don't mind about the first option and maybe even use the excuse that you don't have magic and Grim clearly doesn't want to go with you, so you wouldn't be able to use the broom by yourself.

“In that case, if you're ready, we can go back to the main building to admire the gargoyles.” He smiles and bends his arm, inviting you to intertwine yours with his.

You do so, he places the umbrella between the two of you and you walk back to the school building. He was talking about his club and gargoyles in general until you got close to a wall with no doors or windows nearby.

“One of my favorite gargoyles sits right above us.” Malleus tells you. “Do you see that trickle of water? It's coming from that same gargoyle. Are you ready for me to take you up there and show you?” He extends a hand to you.

You place your hand over his and he gently pulls you towards him. He then lets go of your hand to bend down slightly, put his arm around you and picks you up. Your reflex is to put your arms around his neck to hold on, which brings your faces closer together. He looks directly at you and chuckles seeing your embarrassed/shy face.

“Hold on tight. And do not worry about hurting me, you wouldn't be able to even if you tried. Fu fu.”

As soon as he rises into the air you grab him tightly, which makes him chuckle because he was barely half a meter off the ground yet. Then he rises even higher, but slower than he would on his own. He doesn't want to scare you.

When you get close to the gargoyle, he sits the two of you next to it, you between him and the gargoyle so you can see it better. And he will never let go of your waist to hold you. If you are afraid of heights, or if you just feel a little scared at that moment and hold on to him, he will chuckle and hold you even tighter, but never too tight so as not to hurt you.

“Worry not, (Y/N). I won't let go of you. You can enjoy the gargoyle as much as you wish. I'll be holding you the entire time.”

As you admire the gargoyle doing its work and see the rainwater coming out of its mouth, Malleus admires you.

“Do you wish to know why this is one of my favorite gargoyles on the school building?” He asks and of course you say yes. “In terms of appearance, there's nothing very different about this one from all the others. In fact, there is nothing worth calling special about this gargoyle carving technique. What delights me the most about this gargoyle is not what any of us can see, but what it can see every day.”

You look ahead, trying to figure out where the gargoyle was looking, but the school grounds were so big and the sea so vast that you couldn't be sure. Malleus chuckles, as if you weren't seeing something obvious.

“You are looking too far away. See which building is closest.”

You look closer, at the least impressive building on campus.

“Ramshackle Dorm?” You ask.

“Correct. This gargoyle must have seen the whole story of your dormitory. When it was built, who might have been there before you, how it became an abandoned building and the answers to any question we might wish to know about its mysterious past.”

You look at that gargoyle again with new eyes. All your questions could be answered. If it could talk, it would certainly be a very interesting conversation.

“This gargoyle also witnessed all my visits to the ruins.” Malleus continues. “I wonder what it thought of me, coming in just to admire the decay of that dormitory. But more than that, I wonder what it thought of you. Arriving with a mischievous little monster, a being without magic and completely unaware of the history of this world. And yet, able to breathe new life into rubble and call it home. It also witnessed our meeting. Could it have found it as amusing as I did? Fu fu~”

You look at your dorm, thinking now of everything that gargoyle could have seen.

“And now, it is watching over you.” He looks at you with a sweet smile. “I've told this gargoyle a lot about you, and now it's finally meeting you.”

If you look at the gargoyle again and even greet it, Malleus will laugh in amusement.

“I am certain it was as delighted to meet you as I was that night.”

You look at him and see him looking at you with great affection.

“Speaking of which, I'm curious.” Malleus continues. “Did you also enjoy meeting me that night? You were not frightened, at least.”

You tell him how you felt that night. Surprised, especially seeing such a tall guy with horns, but also intrigued to know who he was. You also found him extremely polite by the way he spoke.

“But I remember finding you very handsome right away.” You admit it.

Malleus is taken aback for a second, but then he laughs.

“Well, I am quite grateful for your honesty. Fu fu. Therefore, I should also admit that I found you... intrepidly charming.”

“Is that a good thing?” You ask.

“For some it may not be, but for me, and the inherently way you show it, it is something wonderful. I could even describe it as cute, especially when you are oblivious to social statutes.” He smiles honestly. And after a moment of reflection, his gaze becomes tender. “I am very fortunate to have you in my life, (Y/N).”

You show him your surprise, that sudden line was very unexpected.

“These moments with you always become some of my fondest memories. I hope to be as pleasant a companion to you as you are to me.”

You feel his arm around you instinctively pulling you closer to him. It's being a cute moment until there's a flash. You both look up and a few seconds later you hear the deafening rumble of thunder. It was so loud that it felt like it was very close to you and made you flinch as a reflex. Which also caused Malleus to let go of the umbrella and let it float above you to be able to hug you with both arms.

“I need to get you out of here. We're too high.”

He picks you up with both arms without hesitation while the umbrella floats above the two of you. And then another bolt of lightning! But this time it hit the tower right next to you, which scared you and made you cling to Malleus.

“A quick trip it shall be.” He holds your head, making you rest it on his shoulder, and in the blink of an eye, you no longer feel the rain and the scene changes abruptly.

You are now at the door of Ramshackle Dorm. He has teleported the two of you there. He leans in for you to put your feet back on the ground.

“I'm sorry our study trip has been so short.” He says with pity. “There were other gargoyles I would have liked to show you. But if you enjoyed our time today, I can show them to you on another outing sometime.” He smiles at you.

Right after you say you'd love it, you hear another clap of thunder. And so, you decide to invite Malleus to stay in Ramshackle with you for a while until the storm calms down.

“You are... Well, I would love to accept your invitation, but you do know that storms are not dangerous to me, correct?”

“I know.” you simply say, without withdrawing your invitation.

Malleus starts by laughing softly, until he lets out a good-natured laugh.

“You certainly are a very strange child of man.”

Malleus is too much of a gentleman to advance much further than with charming words. So, that will have to be your job.

“I am very fortunate to have you in my life too, Tsunotarou.” You tell him.

Malleus looks at you in surprise for a second until an adorable smile forms on his lips.

“You are one of the few who would say that.” He smirks. “And certainly the only human outside of Briar Valley who would say something like that at all.”

Come to think of it, with perhaps the exception of Lilia, the Diasomnia boys tend to be a bit oblivious to subtext. So you decide to take a risk and be direct.

“Tsunotarou... Malleus... do you like me?”

“Of course I like you. I thought I was expressing myself quite well in that regard.” He says a little confused.

“I mean... could you...” He probably doesn't know what the word ‘crush’ means, or he may take it literally. “...be in love with me? Or something like that?”

He is taken aback, and looks at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“Me? The successor to the throne of Briar Valley and one of the most powerful mages in Twisted Wonderland? In love with... a powerless human from another world?” He seems to think about it for a moment until a smile forms again. “Fu fu... ha ha... HA HA HA HA HA!”

That laugh hurts your heart a little, until he continues speaking.

“I had never thought of that.” He says, looking to the side as he thinks. “But... if what I feel for you truly is what they call love... then now I understand why it is such a longed-for feeling. And if it is true then... ha ha HA HA... Oh, the obstacles we would have to face to be together. It does indeed sound exciting... Perhaps...” He looks you in the eyes. “Perhaps you are correct in interpreting my actions as such. However, I still cannot be sure it is love. But perhaps I can answer your question by admitting that, in fact, I nourish a much more intimate feeling towards you than friendship. This would explain why your company comforts and makes me happier than any other.”

He sees you smile as you listen to what he was saying.

“May I interpret that beautiful smile of yours as a possible mutual feeling on your part?”

You confirm and he leans in to take your hand and bring it to his lips to kiss the back of it. If you dare to take advantage of the fact that his face is at the same level as yours and you kiss his cheek, he will look at you in surprise before chuckling.

“Such audacity.” He says with a smug smile and still leaning over, his face close to yours. “Are you certain you wiah to find out how passionate I can be?”

He interprets your smile as confirmation and he kisses your lips delicately. Despite everything, he knows he can hurt you if he lets himself get too carried away. He's going to have to test some... limits.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[lightseoul]

WARD OFF (THIS LONELINESS) (23.3k)

pairing. k. bakugou x reader

synopsis. love comes when you least expect it. or, in bakugou’s case, when he’s unceremoniously dumped into the psychiatric ward. (or: in which bakugou finds himself haunted by his war-torn past, rancid nightmares, and the pretty face of this girl he meets inside)

c.w. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (21 yrs old), minor manga spoilers (read at your own risk), lots of cussing (bkg-typical), graphic depictions of the ward setting, discussions of ptsd & insomnia, mentions of depression, anxiety, & suicidality, nsfw/mature themes, just a whole lotta emotions :,)

a/n. before anything else, i would like to thank my lovely therapist for saying the right words to me a little over a week ago that spurred me to finally get started on this fic idea, which, funnily enough, i ended up working on around the 2nd anniversary of my ward admission. this fic is—quite obviously—very personal to me, as i had to dig through the deep recesses of my mind and pluck out memories i didn’t even know still existed to conjure this into fruition. i worked very hard on this, mainly because i felt like it was important for me to write about this particular experience that not many have to go through, so that those who don’t somehow get an accurate glimpse of what actually happens behind the locked doors. and, perhaps—maybe—even feel empathy for those who do get admitted, you know? but also because i think this was a great opportunity for me to process the experience, which, as you’ll later find out by reading the fic, is exceptionally multi-layered and complex, and absolutely not emotionally charged :,) just a few disclaimers, though: firstly, i am /not/ a mental health professional. i am simply a psych major on an indefinite leave from college because of my severe depression, which also happened to put me in the psychiatric ward, equipping me with the lived experiences and thereby allowing me to write this fic. moreover, the ward experience depicted in this fic was purely based on my experience, and it is highly likely that many do not share my experience or my sentiments. lastly, i do not have war-induced ptsd nor do i have insomnia, but i did as much research as i could to portray it properly. still, if i missed anything, or if i made a mistake, i’d appreciate feedback, as long as you give it kindly and constructively. that’s about it. i sincerely, truly hope you enjoy this one. all the love <3

link. ao3 (you can only read it here. apparently this fic is too long for tumblr rip)

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @touyas-moon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin @lotusstarr @akiii143 @eternallyshifting

[dreaming-of-tae]

♡ skz finding out they're dating an idol

How'd They Find Out? How'd They React? How'd They Handle It?

➜ fluff/angst w/ comfort . gn!reader

ch : bangchan . leeknow . changbin . hyunjin . han . felix . seungmin . i.n

warnings : emotional conflict / angst , mild cursing / intensity: (very mild) , romantic themes , mentions of fame/idol industry pressures

[﹒notes] - My first straykids post!! hope you guys enjoy this as I put a lot of time in ✩ as of now my requests are open so if you have any requests feel free to send them in~ These headcanon/stories are written in a more angsty way, because of how serious being an idol is ♡

Bang Chan (방찬)

You and Chan had been dating in private for nearly a year. It wasn’t exactly a secret relationship, but both of you kept it far away from the public eye. You were always vague about your career, describing yourself as “in the entertainment industry” but never elaborating. You always told yourself you’d come clean eventually — once the time was right.

But the truth was, you were an idol preparing to debut with a major company. And when your group finally debuted, everything changed.

The news came out not from you, but through the industry grapevine. JYP staff began murmuring about a new rookie group shaking the charts — and Chan’s ears perked up when he heard your name associated with them.

At first, he thought it was a coincidence. Maybe someone who just had the same name. But then he saw the teaser.

Your face.

Your voice.

Your debut.

He watched the performance in his studio late one night, headphones in, heart pounding. He didn't even realize he was gripping the armrest of his chair until his fingers went numb. It wasn't just that you were an idol. It was the fact that you'd kept it from him — someone who prided himself on being open, trustworthy, and understanding in relationships.

When you finally walked into his studio the next day, it was quiet. Too quiet.

He didn’t yell. Chan never did. But his silence was louder than any shouting could be.

“You debuted,” he said, not looking up from his laptop.

You tried to explain — how scared you were, how much pressure you were under, how much you wanted to tell him but didn’t want to ruin your shot or involve him in any scandal. Your voice cracked, but you kept going.

“I wasn’t hiding you, I was hiding me,” you told him, near tears.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, exhaling slowly.

“You know I’d never be mad at you for chasing your dream,” he said softly. “But... I thought we were in this together. I thought we shared everything.”

That line stung more than anything.

It takes time. Chan isn’t one to hold grudges, but he feels things deeply. He spends days reflecting — not just on your relationship, but on what it meant for you to feel like you couldn’t trust him with something so big.

Eventually, he reaches out, asking to meet. This time, he's warmer, a little more relaxed.

“You looked incredible on stage,” he admits, smiling shyly. “I’m proud of you.”

He apologizes for his coldness, but also asks you to let him in — even when things are messy, complicated, or scary. “We’re idols,” he says. “We know this life isn’t easy. But I want to share it with you.”

From that point on, he’s your biggest supporter — attending shows in secret, leaving notes in your dressing room when he can, and giving you vocal tips late at night.

He doesn’t love that your schedules now clash and your careers are public property, but he accepts it. Because at the end of the day, you’re still you — and he’s still the guy who fell in love with you, long before the world knew your name.

Lee Know (리노)

Minho had always suspected you were “more than you let on.” The way you carried yourself, the way you avoided certain questions, the way your phone always lit up with messages from people labeled only with emojis. You were mysterious — something he found intriguing.

You’d been together quietly for a little over six months, and while Minho wasn’t the kind of guy to push boundaries, he was observant. Very observant.

Then it happened — your group dropped a surprise debut showcase.

And there you were. Center stage. Flawless. Charismatic. An idol.

Minho sat there in his dorm room, your face filling his screen, members buzzing around him, exclaiming “Wait — isn’t that…?”

He didn’t say a word.

Just stared.

And then left the room.

You knew you had to tell him — and you were already on your way over when your phone started buzzing. A message from Minho: “We need to talk.”

When you arrived, his expression was unreadable. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting hours.

“So,” he said, voice clipped. “Anything you want to share?”

You tried to explain — the contracts, the company’s PR strategy, your own fears. But Minho’s eyebrows raised.

“Don’t tell me it was all about timing. You had months.”

His voice was sharper than usual. He wasn’t angry in the explosive way — he was angry in the quiet, disappointed way that only someone who’s truly hurt can be.

“I don’t care that you’re an idol,” he finally said. “I care that you didn’t trust me enough to be honest.”

You stood there, feeling like the world had dropped out from under you.

But you didn’t give up. You reached for his hand. “Minho… I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was using you. Or lying. Or trying to compete. I was scared I’d lose you.”

Something shifted in his expression at that.

Lee Know doesn’t forgive easily — but he does listen.

It takes a long conversation, a lot of silence, and a few sarcastic jabs (“So do I have to call you sunbaenim now?”), but eventually, he lets down the walls again.

Minho is surprisingly vulnerable when you crack through the tough outer shell. He opens up about how he’s always struggled with trust — how hard it is to feel close to people when the industry is full of masks.

“But I want to trust you,” he admits quietly, “so let me.”

From then on, he becomes fiercely protective. He never shows it in dramatic ways, but it’s there — the texts checking in after your late-night schedules, the hand squeeze before a big stage, the teasing messages when you post a killer performance.

He’ll never say “I’m your number one fan” out loud, but he doesn’t have to.

He’s the one watching your fancams at 2 AM when he thinks no one’s looking. The one who subtly retweets your group’s success through fan accounts. The one who learns your choreography just to mockingly dance it in front of you — only to get every step exactly right.

Changbin (창빈)

Dating Changbin had been like finding home. He was warm, goofy, emotionally intelligent, and one of the few idols who knew how to switch off the performance face when the cameras were gone. You met him through a mutual friend, and your relationship bloomed over late-night ramen, playlists, and gym sessions.

He knew you were “in music,” but you always steered the conversation away when it got too close to your career specifics.

You’d rehearsed how to tell him the truth so many times. But your company’s unexpected early debut announcement forced your hand before you were ready. One minute, you were planning your next date with him; the next, your debut stage was trending on Twitter.

He didn’t find out from you.

He found out on Instagram, scrolling through hashtags, when a photo of you in full stage makeup from a press showcase filled his feed. He blinked, confused.

Wait. That was you. Center stage. Surrounded by dancers. Dressed in a designer outfit.

The caption read: [Name], center of [Group Name], the next big thing in K-pop.

He sat in stunned silence, your unopened text from earlier still sitting on his phone screen.

It read: “Can we talk later tonight? Please.”

You showed up to his studio hours later, already anticipating the hurt in his eyes.

He wasn’t angry — not in the explosive sense. But Changbin felt things deeply, and that depth was now tinged with betrayal.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, fingers fiddling with the drawstring on his hoodie. “Was I… just someone to pass time with until you debuted?”

You rushed to explain — how scared you were of being seen as someone using him, how your company warned you not to get involved romantically before debut, how you’d planned to tell him when the timing felt safer.

“I didn’t want you to see me differently,” you whispered.

“I already saw you,” he said. “The real you. That’s why it hurts.”

Changbin spirals a bit. Not dramatically — but internally. He overthinks, questions every moment, replays your interactions, wondering if there were signs he missed. But despite all the confusion and hurt, he doesn’t give up on you.

He just needs time.

You give him space, unsure if he’ll reach back out — but a few days later, he does. He texts you a selfie of him holding up your debut album, captioned: “I still meant it when I said I liked you. That hasn’t changed.”

When you meet again, the air is gentler. You talk — really talk. He admits his insecurities. You show him your practice clips and share how long you’ve dreamed of this.

From that point on, he becomes your unofficial hype man. He studies your choreo so he can do your fanchants, sneaks your songs into his playlists, and even writes a verse about you for a mixtape — cryptic enough not to be obvious, but personal enough that you know.

His love is loud, even if his pain was quiet. And in the end, he never stops believing in you — or the version of you he fell for long before the lights hit your stage.

Hyunjin (현진)

Being with Hyunjin felt like walking through an art museum — every moment was soaked in feeling, beauty, and subtle intensity. He was affectionate, expressive, and deeply attentive. He'd write little poems for you, draw doodles on your hands when you were bored, and always looked at you like you were a masterpiece.

You adored him for that. And it made keeping your secret even harder.

Your debut had been quietly brewing for over a year, and your company was famously strict. Dating wasn’t just frowned upon — it was a career risk. So you said nothing, afraid to jeopardize your shot or his.

But when your group's debut MV dropped and the internet lit up with reactions, it didn’t take long for Hyunjin to put the pieces together. He knew your mannerisms, your eyes, the tilt of your head. He recognized you instantly.

But what crushed him wasn’t that you were an idol.

It was that he had to find out with the rest of the world.

You found him in his apartment the next evening — music off, curtains drawn, sketchbook open but untouched. He looked up when you entered, his eyes unreadable.

“Why didn’t you trust me with this?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You sat beside him, heart thudding, and told him everything — the fears, the company’s threats, the guilt. You confessed how each day that passed without telling him made it harder to come clean. How you hated yourself for not trusting the person who treated you like you hung the stars.

“I wanted to protect what we had,” you said. “But I ended up hurting you.”

He didn’t respond for a long while. Then, slowly, he handed you his sketchbook.

Inside was a drawing of you — in your debut outfit, mid-performance, surrounded by stage lights. But your eyes in the sketch were sad. Lonely.

“I drew this after I saw the video,” he said. “Because I knew you weren’t celebrating.”

Hyunjin is emotional, yes — but he’s also wise beyond his years. He doesn’t push you away. Instead, he leans into his feelings, into the pain, and finds a way to make art out of it.

He asks for honesty moving forward, no matter how difficult. And you promise.

He becomes your quiet anchor — someone who understands the duality of fame and intimacy. He starts leaving notes in your bag before fanmeets, texts you affirmations after live stages, and watches your content with tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

Sometimes, it’s hard — when your names are trending for different reasons, when rumors swirl, when the distance grows. But Hyunjin never stops showing up. He creates playlists titled “For When You’re Tired” and draws little comics of your imaginary life if you were just two art students instead of idols.

And though he found out the truth in a way that broke his heart, he still chooses you — every version of you.

The star version of you.

And the person behind both.

Han (한)

Dating Jisung was like living in a comedy-drama series with the most chaotic yet golden-hearted lead. He was silly, loud, unpredictable — but beneath it all, he had the most fragile heart and softest soul. He constantly sought reassurance and was always the first to make you laugh when things got heavy.

You connected through mutual friends at a casual get-together, and from day one, he made it clear how serious he was about you — in his goofy, offbeat way. You’d always deflected questions about your career by saying you were “training in music production” or “working behind the scenes,” and he never pushed you too hard.

Until your debut hit the internet.

Jisung wasn’t scrolling for gossip. He was looking for new music releases when he saw the thumbnail: your name — your face — and a “Debut MV” tag.

He clicked without thinking. Half-curious. Half-worried.

As the video played and your voice rang through his speakers, reality cracked open.

His first reaction? Shock — mouth open, hands paused in midair, eyes wide.

Then came confusion. And then silence.

When you texted him later that day with a simple: “Can we talk? Please.” — he didn’t answer right away.

Not because he was angry.

Because his brain was moving at 200mph, and his heart was dragging behind.

He met you that night outside the dorms — hoodie on, hands in his pockets, face unreadable.

“You’re an idol?” he asked softly. “All this time?”

You explained everything — the contracts, the NDAs, your fear of losing him. The guilt of holding something so big back.

His lip twitched. “You thought I wouldn’t be okay with it? Or… you didn’t trust me enough to try?”

The pain in his voice wasn’t loud. It was wounded, quiet, like a joke that didn’t land.

“I tell you everything,” he added. “Every stupid fear. Every song lyric I write. Every dream. You’ve heard me at my worst.”

He wasn’t yelling. He was disappointed. And that hurt more than if he had screamed.

Jisung needs time to process. He hides in his music — writes endless lyrics about masks, mirrors, and miscommunication. He makes jokes to his members to downplay how confused he feels, but you can tell it sits heavy on his chest.

Then one night, he calls you — just your name, softly.

“Come to the studio.”

When you arrive, he plays you a demo — raw vocals, stripped beat, lyrics that feel like reading his heart on a page.

“You danced in the dark / while I thought we were in the light / I loved you blind / but now I see in black and white…”

You sit in silence when it ends.

“I wrote it the night I found out,” he says. “But it’s not a goodbye song.”

You exhale shakily. “Then what is it?”

“It’s a ��try again’ song.”

From then on, he’s different — more open about his fears, but also fiercely protective of your dream. He teases you about “idol mode,” helps you brainstorm stage names, even gives you random awards like “Best Outfit Slay” and “Most Likely to Outshine Me.”

He’s scared, yes. But love — real love — makes him brave enough to stay.

Felix (필릭스)

Dating Felix was like basking in warmth. He had that rare kind of energy — grounding, healing, and gentle. You met during a joint industry charity event, and your connection was instant. He was attentive, deeply curious about you, and always made you feel like the most important person in the room.

But from the start, you knew he was honest to a fault. Felix didn’t play games. He gave love openly, and he expected that same vulnerability in return.

Which is why you feared telling him the truth: that you were on the verge of debuting as an idol, that your company had forbidden any public or even private relationships without disclosure, and that you were falling for him faster than you ever expected.

Felix found out through a mutual friend — accidentally.

Someone sent him a message: “Isn’t this your girlfriend?” with a screenshot of a teaser poster.

Your face. Center of a highly anticipated girl group debut.

He stared at it, brows furrowed, phone shaking in his hand.

He didn’t speak to anyone about it. He waited until he could see you.

When you met up, he didn’t waste time. He held up the image on his phone.

“You’re debuting?” he asked, tone heartbreakingly calm.

You nodded, ready for the storm. But it never came.

He took a step back, swallowing hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You fumbled for the words — how you feared jeopardizing your career, how you thought if you waited just a little longer, it would be easier.

“But you let me love you,” he said quietly. “Without the truth.”

The pain wasn’t in his words — it was in his eyes.

Felix isn’t someone who gives up easily. But he also doesn’t let himself be treated like an afterthought. He takes a step back — not to punish you, but to center himself.

He talks to Chan. To his sister. He journaled a lot. He tried to understand whether your secrecy was about mistrust, or fear, or something else entirely.

Eventually, he meets with you again — on a quiet rooftop, where he used to go when the trainee life felt too heavy.

“I’ve had my own secrets too,” he says, staring at the skyline. “But I’ve always believed love needs honesty, or it won’t last.”

You nod, tears in your eyes. “I’m ready to be honest. Now. With everything.”

He looks at you then — really looks. And he smiles.

Not his fan-service smile.

But his smile. The one only people he loves get to see.

“You were always a star,” he says. “I guess now the rest of the world gets to see it too.”

From that point on, Felix becomes your safest place. He watches all your stages, encourages your self-care, and finds clever ways to support you publicly without ever exposing your relationship.

He’s proud of you.

And he reminds you every day: that you can shine in the spotlight and still be held in love — safely, quietly, fiercely — when the lights go down.

Seungmin (승민)

Seungmin wasn’t the type to fall easily, but when he did, it was intentional. You’d met him through a friend who worked in radio, and what started as casual banter turned into long coffee shop dates filled with dry humor and quiet companionship.

He liked that you were grounded. You shared thoughts about music, books, even your frustrations with the entertainment industry. But whenever he asked specifics about your work, you deflected — said you were “support staff,” or “still finding your path.” He respected your privacy. He always did.

That is, until your face showed up unexpectedly on a massive LED screen in Hongdae — part of a pre-debut countdown campaign for a new girl group.

It took him a few seconds to register that it was you.

Wearing stage makeup. In costume. Smiling like the whole world was finally seeing the dream you’d been hiding.

That night, you showed up to his apartment without asking. You knew he’d seen it.

He didn’t yell. That wasn’t Seungmin.

He opened the door, stepped aside, and let you in. The silence wasn’t cold — it was focused. You sat across from him on the couch, bracing yourself.

He finally spoke, voice calm but painfully steady: “How long were you going to keep it from me?”

You tried to explain — the non-disclosure, the risk of rumors, the company’s iron grip on trainee relationships. But as you spoke, he stared down at his hands, barely blinking.

“Do you know how many people I’ve pushed away because I didn’t think they could handle my world?” he asked quietly. “I chose you. And you couldn’t even give me the truth.”

It stung. Not because he was angry — but because he wasn’t. He sounded tired.

You reached out to touch his hand, but he gently pulled it back.

“I just need time to think,” he said. “About whether we’ve both been in the same relationship this whole time.”

Seungmin goes quiet for a few days. Not out of malice, but because he doesn’t do emotional decisions impulsively. He talks to his members. He takes long walks. He listens to music without lyrics — classical, instrumental, film scores — trying to find his own voice in the noise.

Eventually, he texts you: “I want to talk. In person.”

When you meet again, he’s still calm — but different. Not guarded. Resolved.

“I’m not angry that you’re an idol,” he says. “I’m proud. I’ve always known there was something special in you.”

He takes your hand.

“But I need honesty. Even when it’s messy. Even when it might hurt.”

You promise — this time without deflection.

From then on, Seungmin becomes your quiet protector. He won’t show it in grand gestures, but in consistent ones — sending you your favorite coffee before music shows, editing your practice videos with helpful notes, reminding you not to lose yourself in the chaos of fame.

He’s still skeptical sometimes — especially when fans speculate, or when your schedules keep you apart. But his love isn’t loud. It’s reliable.

And when he sees you on stage for the first time, he smiles — not because you’re an idol, but because you’re still you. And that’s who he fell for.

I.N (아이엔)

Jeongin had always been playful, gentle, a little shy in interviews — but in real life, he’d grown into someone confident and self-aware. He laughed easily, cared deeply, and had a surprisingly steady presence beneath the youthful energy.

You met him during a vocal workshop and bonded over late-night convenience store runs and shared Spotify playlists. He admired how humble and grounded you were — never knowing that underneath it all, you were hiding a career just weeks away from exploding.

When your debut came, it wasn’t a slow reveal.

It was a bombshell.

You were the surprise center of a new girl group with a viral pre-debut TikTok campaign. Fancams. Headlines. Trending hashtags.

Jeongin was in the dorm, half-laughing with Han over snacks, when Felix’s phone buzzed.

“Wait — isn’t this Y/N?”

And the room went quiet.

He didn’t text you.

He didn’t call.

Instead, he waited — unsure whether to confront you, or wait for you to explain.

You beat him to it, showing up the next evening with a bag of tteokbokki and a soft apology.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

His smile was polite, but distant.

“I guess I never really knew you, huh?” he said, softly.

That broke your heart more than yelling would’ve.

“I didn’t lie,” you said. “I just… hid. Because I thought if you saw the whole picture, you’d treat me like a brand, not a person.”

His expression softened, but he looked down at his hands.

“I didn’t fall for a brand,” he whispered. “I fell for someone who laughed at my dumb jokes, who sang off-key with me at karaoke, who looked me in the eye like I mattered.”

You blinked back tears.

“And you still matter,” you said. “More than any debut. More than any stage.”

Jeongin surprises you.

He’s more mature than people give him credit for. After a few days of reflection, he comes to you — with questions, yes, but also with his heart open.

He asks about your training. About your fears. About your dreams — not your image.

Once he understands it wasn’t about deceit, but about survival, he forgives you. Fully.

And from that moment on, he becomes your safe place. He checks in before every big performance. Sends you goofy voice notes to cheer you up. Hypes you up anonymously online with burner accounts. Leaves little gifts in your locker when your schedules cross paths.

But he also keeps you accountable.

“When we’re together,” he says, “it’s not idol to idol. It’s just you and me. Real. No masks.”

He doesn’t treat you like glass. He treats you like a partner. Equal. Respected.

And when he watches you on stage, he claps the loudest — not because he’s watching an idol rise.

But because he’s watching his person do what they were born to do.

[belovedenzo]

nsfw theodore nott headcanons…

various sexually explicit headcanons w/ bf! theo

┃words; 1.4k

┃notes; just some things about bf! theo sex. this is my first theo post so I hope you enjoy it !

┃ warnings; NSFW MDNI 18+. toxic! theo. explicit and kinky themes.

┃ Dominant. No matter how tired or lazy he’s feeling, Theo always likes it best when he’s in control. Watching you squirm and lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you, provides him with best high imaginable. He thinks it’s cute if you ever try and make him submit in any way but no matter how hard you may try, you always end up at his mercy.

┃ Sharing. It’s a guilty pleasure of his to watch the eyes of his closest friends eye your figure up and down when you walk into the room. At first it made him see red but once he became confident that you are his and no one else’s- he finds it cute. The idea that any of them think they could have some of you amuses him- the sight of them pining after you even started to turn him on. Eventually he may even let one of them fuck you in front of him, on his terms of course. Mattheo… if you were wondering.

┃ High sex. When you two finally get alone time together- Theo loves to spend it smoking joints in what ever spot he chose that day. Muggle weed has always had it’s way of putting him in the mood- it doesn’t take long before his lips and tongue are all over you. When he’s high he loves to take his time with you, his touch much more gentle that it typically is. He even lasts longer than he usually does, causing you to ache the next morning. ache so good

┃ Brat tamer. If he feels disrespected by you in any way you can except to be face down ass up by the end of the day. If you do something that rubs him just right the wrong way he makes sure that you understand what you did wrong while he’s deep inside of you. His insults and demands can be half heard through your fucked out conciseness- face stuffed in what ever surface he chose to press it into. You try to apologize over and over through your moans and gasps but he won’t be satisfied till your full of his cum. When Theo decides you need to be tamed he’s not nice about it- if there’s one thing he can’t stand it’s a brat. He loves it.

┃ Protective. No one has the nerve to mess with Theo’s girl- but if they did they’d have to get through him first. He loves to have you on his arm- showing you off like a present. In all truthfulness- watching their jealous eyes wander away quickly as he catches their glance turns him on. Their anxiety and fear that they got caught while his sweet girl is tucked under his broad shoulder. Something about the power he holds in that situation makes him want to fuck you in front of them- all of them.

┃ Face fucking. There’s nothing better than the view Theo gets of your mouth wrapped around his cock- deep down your throat. Tears sit in the corners of your half lidded, blissed out eyes, streaming down the sides of your rosy cheeks while he pushes your limits. He loves having you like this, fist fulls of your hair entagled in his fingers- having full control over your mouth and the pretty little head attached to it. If you try and intervene, punishment will be near in your future so you’ve stopped trying. However he knows you love the attention so the alligator tears don’t fool him.

┃ Thigh Riding. His hands hold onto your hips unyieding- your flesh making contact with his. He has you situated, your legs around the midst of his thigh. It always starts out painfully slow, Theo loves taking his time dipping your hips up and down closer to his thigh to tease your clit with contact. Once he starts giving you that sweet tension your pussy is begging for it doesn’t take long for you to finish all over his firm thigh. He never lets you have control of your own hips while your ride, but you’re always content submitting to him.

┃ Ass guy. Theo loves your ass and that’s final. Of course he thinks all of you is sexy but he can’t deny he’s an ass man. Most of his favorite positions to have you in, include your ass posted up nice and spread for him to see. The way it moves along with the snapping of his hips while he’s fucking you, or the way it shimmies behind you as you walk. It’s a huge turn on for him.

┃ Choking. The place his hands have always gravitated towards has been your neck. Even if it’s an innocent grab at your nape to show affection as you walk through the halls- his hands can be found resting on your neck. More often though, the reasonings aren’t as innocent. This is the best place for him to make you as small and vulnerable as possible. His grip is consistently anchored stiff but depending on his mood he may actually allow you to breathe.

┃ Cheating. Theo loves you- a lot. In fact, the feelings he’s had for you over the course of your relationship have been some of which he’s never experienced before. However that may be hard to believe due to his past of unfaithful actions. If you don’t give him enough attention for what ever reason it may be- Theo will eventually cheat. Some of the reason may be even out of spite, he can be just as vile as he can sweet. Any time you have attempted to stand up for yourself he simply manipulates you into forgiving and forgetting. Aka he makes you cum

┃ High pony tail. Undeniably- there is nothing you can do with your looks to turn him on more than a high pony. The way it pulls all of the hair out of your face has always been a big factor in the ponytail being a favorite but that’s not the only reason. It reminds him of how you look when both of his hands pull your hair back nice and tight- gripping it at the crown of your head to keep it out of the way while he forces his length down your throat. It makes you look sexy and brings back good memories- what’s there not to love?

┃ Mirrors. One reason why Theo loves fucking you in the prefects bathroom- is the mirror. Forcing you to watch yourself get the best dick of your life should be considered a treat. He’s always wanted to show you how fucked out your face looks when your below him and with a mirror- he can do just that. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t also like to watch as he pounds your cheeks from behind, watching you close your eyes in embarresment through the reflection at the slapping sounds. If you keep them closed for too long- he’ll force them back open if he has to, you have to watch. The way your face contorts and emotes amuses him, proving to himself yet again that he has you dick whipped.

┃ Hair tugging. This is one that you’ve almost grown to hate. Not only does Theo love to pull your hair during a usual rough sexcapade- he also does it when he thinks you need to be taught a lesson. Theo has never been afraid to hurt you and you know that- but merlin do you hate the snappy little hair pulls that he does when he doesn’t like something you said or if you disagree with him in front of his friends. Yeah- he has the nerve to do it in front of everybody. His long fingers yank and pull at your longest strands, a small sting kissing your scalp- his way of saying “stop.” When he’s in an extra loving mood he’ll even play with your hair which you love- but if he’s in an extra terrible mood you can except your hair to be yanked just a little harder while he takes his shitty day out on your pussy.

luv, spell

taglist; plz lmk if u need to be added or removed! @draco-malfoys-lovergirl @dearmisshoney @shyamanuensis @riddlesbunny @enzosbabyangel @juliet-017 @ur-local-wizard @nottsstar @nottsamor @nottslove @riddlesrizzler @riddlesgirlie @riddleswhcre @riddlesgrl @eternalbuckley @obsessedwithceleste @pizzaapeteer @nemesyaaa @hayleygrrr @nemesyaaa @prythiansprincess @writingsbychlo

[rosyrosethings]

Snowed in

This is slowwww burn. Enemies to lovers. I love a good slow burn

7k+ words

Y/N’s breath puffed into the frozen air as she slammed her car door shut, the sound echoing across the quiet clearing. Snow crunched beneath her boots as she stepped forward, scarf pulled tighter around her neck, eyes lifting toward the cabin nestled between towering pines.

It was bigger than she expected—three stories of rich timber and stone, with a wraparound porch and smoke curling lazily from the chimney. Warm golden light spilled from the windows, glowing like a promise against the cold gray sky. It would’ve been the perfect winter escape—if he wasn’t coming.

She sighed sharply, her breath fogging up her glasses. Of course Harry Styles was coming. Of course he had to be part of this.

The group trip had sounded great in theory: a week in a mountain cabin with friends, no work, just snow, booze, board games, and long mornings in pajamas. Y/N had needed the break—desperately. And it might’ve been just what she needed, if it weren’t for the single walking migraine that came bundled with dimples and a British accent.

Harry Styles was a menace. A flirty, smug, utterly infuriating headache of a man who lived to push her buttons. He always knew just what to say, what look to give, how to hover one second too long. Every interaction was a tug-of-war—one he acted like he was enjoying a little too much. She swore he only said her name like that—low and drawn out—just to make her skin crawl.

And worse? It worked.

She’d made sure to arrive first. If she had to be stuck here all week, she’d at least claim the best room. Hoisting her duffel bag onto one shoulder, she trudged up the porch stairs and brushed snow from her sleeves. The front door creaked open with a gentle push—unlocked, just like Mitch promised.

Inside, the cabin was warm and still, filled with the soft glow of firelight and the scent of cedar. Thick beams crossed the ceiling, a stone fireplace crackled quietly at the far end of the room, and plush rugs softened the dark wood floors. She stepped in slowly, letting the quiet settle over her like a blanket. For just a moment, it was perfect.

Then the front door flew open behind her with a burst of icy air.

“Don’t tell me you beat me here,” called a voice that made her jaw tighten on instinct.

She didn’t even need to look. She knew that voice.

Harry Styles stepped inside like he owned the place, snow dusting his boots and curls poking out from beneath a black beanie. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, eyes bright and full of mischief. That stupid, irresistible grin was already on his face.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered without turning around.

“Wow,” he said, unzipping his coat. “You came early. That’s cute. Trying to set up booby traps before I arrive?”

“Actually, I came early so I wouldn’t have to see your face for a few hours.”

He let out a laugh that was far too delighted. “God, you missed me.”

“I missed peace.”

Harry strolled farther in, glancing around like he was already rating the decor. “You know, the more you insult me, the more I’m convinced you dream about me at night.”

“I don’t dream about clowns.”

He raised a brow. “That’s weird. I dream about you sometimes.”

Y/N turned slowly, fixing him with a glare. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet,” he said, gesturing around them with mock innocence, “here you are. Sharing a roof with me.”

Before she could snap back, her phone buzzed so did Harry’s . Then again. Then a third time. She pulled it out and opened the group chat.

Dan: Roads are closing—storm’s worse than they predicted Lauren: They won’t let us past the ranger checkpoint Mitch: They’re putting us up at this little lodge halfway up the mountain Jessica: We’ll have to wait out the storm, prob can’t get to the cabin tonight Dan: You guys hold it down. Try not to kill each other Lauren: Or worse... hook up lol Y/N: I hope the snow swallows you all

She stared at the screen. Then slowly looked up. Harry was already grinning. “You have got to be kidding me.” She said under her breath. 

“Just us,” he said, arms outstretched like it was a dream come true. “In a beautiful, secluded cabin. Four bedrooms. And yet, I know you’ll still find ways to bump into me.”

“In your dreams.”

Harry waggled his eyebrows. “Exactly.”

Y/N groaned and turned for the stairs. “I’m claiming the biggest room.”

“Already did.”

She froze. “Excuse me?”

“I was here first,” he said, smug. “Technically. I parked in the back, took the back stairs. My bag’s already on the bed. Mountain view, window seat, king bed. Super cozy.”

“You sneaky little—”

“Now, now,” he said, holding up his hands like he was diffusing a bomb. “Still three other bedrooms left. Unless, of course... you want to share?”

She turned slowly, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “I’d rather eat a blue jean jacket.”

He burst out laughing as she stormed up the stairs.

Y/N flung open the second bedroom door with more force than necessary. It wasn’t as big as the master, but it would do—queen bed, soft blankets, a little window with a snow-covered view. Most importantly, it was far enough away from Harry’s room that she wouldn’t have to hear him breathing.

She tossed her bag onto the bed and sat down, still bundled in her coat. Outside, the snow was falling faster now—thick, heavy flakes swirling in the wind. It was almost hypnotic, the way it danced through the air, piling higher along the porch and creeping up the trees.

They weren’t going anywhere tonight. That much was clear.

She had just finished unpacking when it happened.

Click.

The heater cut off.

A strange silence followed—no humming refrigerator, no subtle buzz of electricity. Just the low crackle of the fire from downstairs and the eerie groan of the wind pressing against the walls.

Then darkness.

Y/N paused, mid-step, her pulse skipping as the reality settled in.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, flicking the light switch a few more times. 

Nothing.

From downstairs came Harry’s voice: “Power’s out!”

She rolled her eyes and shouted back, “Thanks, Sherlock!”

She quickly changed into some pjs, looking in bag for some kind of light source besides her phone to save battery. 

Nothing.

Just a book, a portable charger, Yarn,  and her pride.

The wind howled again, louder now, rattling the window beside her like a warning. The room was already getting colder. Upstairs suddenly felt very far away from the fire—and far too close to the storm.

With a grumble, she grabbed her phone and her book and headed downstairs.

The living room was dim, lit only by the fireplace’s faint orange glow. Harry was crouched in front of it, sleeves rolled up, feeding a fresh log into the flames. Sparks popped and danced up the chimney, and the heat slowly returned to the room.

Y/N stopped at the bottom step, arms crossed over her chest.

Harry looked up. “Look who finally decided to join me.”

“It’s freezing upstairs,” she said flatly. “And I don’t feel like being trapped in a horror movie setting alone.”

“Sure. That’s why,” he said, grinning. “Not because you missed me?”

She gave him a look. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

Harry stood and brushed off his hands. “Suit yourself. But unless you want to become a human popsicle, this fire is your best friend now.”

She walked to the far end of the couch and sat down stiffly, curling her legs under her. “Don’t talk to me.”

“No promises,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned with a cardboard box and a lighter. “Found these in the drawer next to the fridge. Candles.”

Y/N took them wordlessly and began lighting them one by one, placing them across the room—on the mantle, the windowsill, the coffee table. Warm golden light flickered to life in small halos, casting long shadows and softening the edges of the cabin.

The room shrank around them, cozier now, quieter.

She picked up her book, flipped to her dogeared page, and began reading. Harry dropped into the armchair closest to the fire, his long legs stretching out in front of him as he stared into the flames.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

Outside, the storm roared like an angry beast, but inside, all was still.

Until—

Growl.

It was faint, but unmistakable.

Y/N froze, eyes locked on the page. She tried to play it off by flipping to the next chapter like nothing happened.

Harry opened one eye. “Was that… you?”

She didn’t answer.

“That was your stomach,” he said, grinning.

“It was the wind.”

“The wind doesn’t sound hungry, Y/N.”

She snapped her book shut. “Do not start.”

Harry stood with a stretch, heading into the kitchen. “Relax. I brought food.”

“Oh good,” she called. “Protein bars and bad decisions?”

“Funny. But no,” he said, rummaging through his bag. “Tonight, we dine like kings.”

He returned with two packs of instant ramen, a small pot, and a grin that made her immediately suspicious.

“You brought ramen?”

“Laugh all you want, but I knew we’d end up needing it. Mountain weather waits for no man.”

“I’d rather starve.”

Harry shrugged and headed toward the stove. “Suit yourself. But when you faint from hunger, I’m not catching you.”

She didn’t reply—but her eyes followed him as he knelt beside the wood-burning stove, coaxing the flames higher. He looked completely in his element, sleeves pushed up, focus sharp, hands steady. It was annoying how competent he looked.

And how good.

She turned back to her book, scowling at the page like it had personally offended her.

Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of water heating. Then the soft rustle of plastic as he tore open the ramen packets.

“Just so you know,” Harry said, “I’m making two bowls. Because I know you. You’ll pretend you’re not hungry, then creep into the kitchen at midnight like a raccoon.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

The scent of ramen filled the room, savory and warm. Her stomach growled again.

“I’m not eating that,” she said, sharper this time.

“Didn’t say you were,” he said casually, pouring noodles into the steaming water. “But I’m placing one bowl near you and walking away. What happens after that is between you and your integrity.”

Y/N didn’t answer. But her eyes flicked toward the stove. The ramen smelled criminally good. Salty, warm, comforting in the way only cheap noodles could be when you’re snowed in, half-frozen, and pretending not to starve in front of your nemesis.

Y/N tried to ignore it.

Harry stirred the pot slowly, adding the seasoning packets like he was cooking for a five-star review. When the noodles were ready, he ladled them into two mismatched ceramic bowls and grabbed a pair of forks.

He approached the couch and, without a word, set one steaming bowl down on the coffee table in front of her.

She glanced at it.

Then back at him.

“It’s not poisoned,” he said, settling into the other end of the couch. “But if it was, honestly? I’d be impressed with myself.”

She glared. Her stomach growled again.

He wiggled his brows. “You gonna eat it or dramatically waste it to prove a point?”

Y/N let out a low groan and snatched the bowl. “I hate you.”

“You say that,” Harry said, twirling noodles onto his fork, “but you’re eating my food. Sitting in my firelight. Basking in my radiant charm.”

“Basking in your delusions.”

They both dug in, the room quiet except for the clink of forks and the soft whistle of wind outside. For a long stretch of time, they didn’t speak. Just ate. And sat. And didn’t hate it.

The silence felt different now.

Not stiff.

Not hostile.

Just… warm.

Y/N leaned back into the couch when her bowl was empty, curling the blanket tighter around her legs. Harry remained at the other end, his posture loose, gaze on the fire.

“You know,” he said, voice soft, “if this storm keeps up, I’m calling dibs on the big blanket tomorrow.”

She didn’t look over. “I’ll smother you with it.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Sounds romantic.”

They lapsed into silence again, but this time it was laced with something unspoken. 

Something new.

The fire crackled, burning low and golden. The storm continued to rage outside, but inside, it felt distant. Muted.

Eventually, Harry stood and gathered their empty bowls, placing them in the sink before returning to the couch with a heavy sigh. He dropped beside her again, lounging like it was his right.

She gave him a look. “You have your own space.”

“And yet,” he said, propping his feet on the coffee table, “this couch is cozy. Candle-lit. Warm. And you didn’t tell me to leave.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back to her book. She flipped a page, pretending to be immersed in the story—but his presence was louder than any paragraph.

After a few minutes, he tilted his head toward her.

“What are you reading?”

She didn’t look up. “You wouldn’t care.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s not a comic or a sports article, so…”

He smirked. “You’re adorable when you’re judgmental.” She ignored that. 

“Come on,” he said, nudging her with his foot. “Read it out loud.”

She glanced at him, confused. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Your voice is nice. And the wind sounds like it’s trying to eat the house. Distract me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“You owe me.”

“For what?”

“For feeding you. I could’ve made one bowl. I made two. That’s sacrifice.”

“That’s survival.”

“Still counts.”

She sighed, long and theatrical, then flipped back to the top of the chapter. “Fine. But if you interrupt me, I stop.”

He grinned and held up both hands. “Scout’s honor.”

Y/N cleared her throat and began reading, her voice steady and calm. The flickering fire beside them cast moving shadows along the walls, and Harry leaned back, watching her with quiet interest.

For once, he didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t tease.

He just listened.

She wasn’t used to that—not from him. But something about the way he was looking at her made her cheeks warm. Made her voice wobble just slightly before she caught herself.

She read until the end of the chapter, then gently folded the corner of the page and shut the book.

“There,” she said. “Happy?”

Harry blinked slowly, like waking from a dream. “That’s where it ends?”

“Yes. Thats the end of the chapter." 

“That’s criminal. Rachel’s about to ruin her life.”

“You were actually paying attention?”

“Obviously. She slept with Dex, Darcy's Fiance. There’s no turning back now.”

Y/N stared at him. “You know all their names?”

“I’m invested,” he said seriously. “You roped me into a soap opera.”

She laughed before she could stop herself—a soft, reluctant sound that made Harry smile wider. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered.

“And you,” he said, shifting closer, “are kind of cute when you read." 

She scoffed. “You’re pushing it.”

He held out his hand. “Give me the book. I’ll read the next chapter.”

“You?”

“I have a British accent. It’ll be very dramatic.”

She rolled her eyes, but handed it over.

Harry adjusted on the couch, stretching his legs out with the book in his lap. He cleared his throat with exaggerated flair.

“Chapter Nine,” he announced in a mock-theatrical voice. “The morning after, I woke up feeling guilty… but not quite guilty enough.”

Y/N groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. 

“Regret.”

“Shh. I’m reading.”

To her surprise, he wasn’t half bad. His voice, while occasionally dramatic for effect, dipped low and smooth at the right moments. His pacing was steady, and when he didn’t know a word, he rolled right through it like it didn’t matter. And it didn’t—not when he made the story sound like it belonged to him.

She peeked out from under the blanket and studied him quietly.

Harry’s curls had fallen into his face again, his lips moving softly with each line. His brow furrowed a little when the main character said something reckless. His mouth twitched into a smirk when the tension in the story spiked. He was... focused. Softened by firelight. And honestly, kind of beautiful.

Y/N blinked that thought away immediately. Nope. No. Absolutely not.

But then he stopped again—mid-sentence—and raised his brows with that familiar, knowing grin.

“Oh, this one’s good,” he said, holding the book up like it was evidence. Then he read, “‘I knew I was flirting. And I knew he was flirting back. But I also knew I wouldn’t stop.’”

Y/N groaned. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Harry looked over the top of the book, grinning. “You sure? Sounds familiar.”

“In what world?”

“In this cabin. Right now.”

“You are delusional.”

He laughed, eyes crinkling. “Maybe. But you’re smiling.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the curve of her mouth. “Back to reading, pretty boy.”

Harry paused. Blinked. Then slowly smiled—this time softer. More real.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it.

There was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t a joke this time. Like he really wanted to know. And with the firelight flickering behind him, casting a golden glow on his skin and catching in his lashes, she couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t.

She looked away, fingers tightening slightly in the blanket. “Shut up.”

Harry chuckled, but the grin he wore wasn’t teasing now—it was warm. Gentle. The kind of smile that lingered, even after he turned back to the page.

He cleared his throat and read on, but Y/N wasn’t really listening anymore.

Because now she was the one sneaking glances.

And for the first time since they’d gotten snowed in…

She wasn’t sure if she hated it.

She turned her attention back to the fire—but it was no use. Her eyes kept drifting back to him. To the way he absently tapped the side of the book with his finger.

She didn’t realize she was slipping until her head gently tilted toward the arm of the couch. Her eyelids blinked slower. The warmth of the room, the steady cadence of his voice, the way her body had finally stopped fighting—all of it lulled her deeper.

By the time Harry flipped the next page, she was completely still.

He glanced over.

Y/N was curled up in her corner of the couch, her face relaxed, her lips parted slightly in sleep. One hand still held the edge of the blanket, like she’d tried to fight it, but lost.

He smiled to himself and lowered the book.

“You couldn’t hang, huh?” he whispered.

Carefully, he set the book down on the coffee table, then turned back toward her. She looked peaceful—peaceful in a way he’d never seen her. All the snark and sharp edges melted off, just warmth and soft lashes and slow breaths.

Harry hesitated.

Then he reached behind her, grabbed the throw blanket and gently draped it over her. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

He paused a moment longer, looking at her.

He’d spent years getting under her skin. 

Teasing her, pushing her, watching her snap back at him with fire in her voice. And yeah, he’d loved every second of it. But this? This quiet moment, where she trusted him enough to fall asleep beside him?

It undid something in him.

“Goodnight angry,” he murmured.

He considered heading to his room, giving her space—but the warmth of the fire, the soft light of the candles, and her presence just a few inches away kept him still.

So he stayed.

He shifted gently onto his side of the couch, pulling the blanket over himself, careful not to disturb her.

And for the first time since arriving, Harry didn’t feel like pretending he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes, the storm still whispering outside, and let sleep take him too.

//

Y/N stirred in her sleep, the creeping chill tugging her gently out of her dreams. Her nose twitched. Her fingers flexed, brushing against something warm and solid.

That was the first clue something was… off.

The rest hit her all at once.

There was a strong arm wrapped snug around her waist. A warm chest pressed up against her back. A leg—oh god, someone’s leg—tangled over hers. And she wasn’t cold. Not really. Not where they were touching. She was actually kind of… cozy?

Still half-asleep, she nestled into the warmth, letting herself enjoy it for a moment. Whoever it was, they were warm and still and—

Wait.

Wait.

That scent.

Cedarwood. Laundry detergent. Trouble.

Her eyes snapped open.

No. No, no, no.

She shifted her head slowly, heart beginning to race as her gaze dropped to the pale arm curled tightly around her midsection. That was not her blanket. That was a man. And that—

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice rasping out into the quiet.

In one sharp motion, she jolted upright like she’d just discovered a tarantula in her bed. 

The blanket flew off, and Harry groaned behind her, arm flopping where she’d been.

“What the—”

He blinked up at her, bleary-eyed and confused, his curls a mess and his voice thick with sleep. “Why’d you move? We were warm.”

Y/N stared at him like she was trying to manifest fire from her pupils. “Were we cuddling?!”

Harry yawned. “It’s called body heat, sweetheart.”

She scrambled off the couch like she’d been electrocuted. “No. Nope. No, no, no.”

Still lounging on his side, Harry propped his head up with one hand, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For saving your life. It’s called survival cuddling.”

“I’d rather freeze to death.”

“You didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Because damn it, she had liked it just for a second. Before she realized who it was. Before Harry’s obnoxious charm showed up at full volume.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders like armor. “I must’ve been sleep-deprived. Or delusional.”

Harry stretched lazily, unbothered and still shirtless. “I’m a great cuddler, Y/N. It’s okay to admit that.”

“You spooned me like a heat-seeking missile.”

He grinned. “You were the one radiating warmth.”

She gave him a flat look. “You’re not cute.”

He shrugged. “You did call me pretty last night.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“Sure it was.”

Before she could fire back, a frigid gust whistled against the windows, and they both turned to glance at the hearth. The fire was completely out. Just ash and cold logs.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her arms. “Perfect. Now we’re actually gonna freeze.”

Harry sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll get more firewood. Don’t go passing out without me.”

“Trust me,” she muttered, stalking toward the kitchen. “You’ve cured me of any desire to sleep.”

As he disappeared into the hall to grab wood from the closet, she watched him go—shirtless, annoyingly tall, and still wearing that smug grin.

She scowled.

And yet, the ghost of warmth where he’d held her still lingered. And for some reason… that annoyed her most of all.

By the time Harry dragged himself off the floor and toward the stack of firewood in the back room, Y/N had wrapped herself in a blanket so tightly she looked like a grumpy little burrito—warm, silent, and very much Not In The Mood.

The cabin was freezing—again. The fire had gone out overnight, and without power, the chill seeped into everything that wasn’t pressed up against the hearth.

She didn’t say anything as Harry disappeared down the hall. When he returned with an armful of logs, she watched from the couch—quietly, like a cat perched on alert. He didn’t speak either, just dropped to his knees and got to work rebuilding the fire.

It only took him a few minutes to get it going again—he was weirdly good at it, crouched low in his hoodie and sweats, sleeves pushed up, curls falling into his eyes as he coaxed flames from kindling like he did this all the time.

And maybe he did.

Which was somehow more irritating.

Y/N pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, biting back the part of her brain that wanted to compliment him. Or at the very least... thank him.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

"Fire’s back," he said finally, brushing ash from his palms as he stood. The fire crackled again, warm golden light spilling across the cabin floor. “You’re welcome.”

She didn’t look up. “Congratulations on fulfilling basic survival instincts.”

"You really know how to say ‘thank you,’" he muttered, walking past her toward the kitchen. “And to think I was sensing improvement.”

Y/N didn’t respond. Instead, she reached into her tote bag and pulled out a tangled skein of golden-brown yarn and her favorite crochet hook—slipping into rhythm the moment the yarn touched her fingers. Hook. Pull. Twist. Loop. Her mind began to settle. A scarf, maybe. She didn’t care what it was. It was something to do with her hands while her brain spun in circles.

Across the room, she heard the familiar rustling of a duffel bag being unzipped. Water clinking into a small pot. The stove creaked open—still warm from last night—and a match hissed to life. No eggs this morning.

Just ramen. Again.

It was weirdly comforting.

She didn’t say anything, but her stomach did.

Harry didn’t even turn around. “Didn’t even argue this time. Growth.”

“I’m reserving my insults for later,” she said coolly, not looking up from her stitches.

“Save your energy,” he called back. “You’re gonna need it to slurp this world-class noodle masterpiece.”

“You mean boil noodles and dump powder in?”

“Gordon Ramsay’s shaking.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but kept crocheting. The crackle of the fire, the bubbling pot, and the smell of salty broth slowly warming the room—it was peaceful, in a weird, very not normal way.

Twenty minutes later, he appeared at the edge of her vision, holding out a ceramic bowl with a fork sticking out. 

She eyed it warily.

“It’s not poisoned,” he said, nudging it closer. 

“Unless you count sodium as a weapon.” Y/N took the bowl with a soft grunt of thanks, still not meeting his eyes.

Harry dropped onto the floor beside the couch, cross-legged, cradling his own bowl. “We’ve officially peaked. Noodles by candlelight.”

“You’re romanticizing instant ramen,” she muttered, digging in.

He slurped dramatically. “That’s because this is romantic.”

She smirked, barely.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the kind of silence that was… not awkward. Not quite comfortable either. Something in between. Something new.

Y/N peeked at him once. Just once.

But of course, he caught her.

“What?” he asked, noodles hanging out of his mouth like a fool.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“I was judging.”

“Same thing,” he said, swallowing. “But go ahead, admit it. I make excellent apocalypse noodles.”

She considered. “They’re edible.”

“High praise,” he said, mock-bowing his head.

When she finished her bowl, she set it aside and reached for her yarn again. Harry leaned back on one hand and watched her fingers move.

“So… that your new scarf?”

“Maybe.”

He watched a little longer, then added, “You always crochet when you’re annoyed?”

She didn’t look up. “It’s either this or fight someone.”

He snorted. “You’re full of sunshine.”

She kept going, calm and rhythmic. “Crochet doesn’t talk back. Doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t leave its socks everywhere.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I do none of those things.”

“You flirted with a squirrel yesterday.”

“That squirrel was asking for it.”

Y/N choked on a laugh and shook her head. The moment stretched, softening like dough under a rolling pin. No tension. No snark. Just two people thawing—slowly—beside the fire.

Harry tilted his head, eyeing her half-finished piece. “Make me something?”

She looked at him like he had sprouted antlers. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I’ll wear it. And think of you every time I do.”

“That’s supposed to make me want to make you something?”

His grin widened. “Come on. I’d look good in something you made.”

Y/N paused, stared at him, then muttered, “A muzzle.”

Harry laughed—really laughed. Not one of his smug little chuckles or sarcastic scoffs, but a genuine, warm burst of amusement that crinkled his eyes and curled his dimples.

She wasn’t used to hearing that kind of laugh from him.

She definitely wasn’t used to liking it.And that unsettled her more than the blizzard howling outside. It cracked something open in her chest, something quiet and hesitant and unfamiliar.

They fell into an easy silence after that. The fire glowed steadily now, golden and soft, casting lazy shadows on the cabin walls. Their ramen bowls sat empty on the floor beside them. Y/N’s yarn moved between her fingers like it had a heartbeat of its own—loop, pull, twist, repeat. Soothing, steady. But her eyes kept drifting, flicking toward him more often than she wanted to admit.

Then Harry leaned forward and picked up the book they’d started the night before—the same one she’d read to him by candlelight. His thumb brushed over the dog-eared corner he'd folded down before he fell asleep.

“I could read a bit more,” he said casually, already flipping it open. “Unless you’re too busy knitting me a muzzle.”

“It’s crochet,” she corrected, without missing a stitch.

He smirked. “Still not denying it.”

“I’m considering gag options.”

“Charming,” he murmured with a grin, already settling back into the couch. He adjusted until he was half-reclined again, legs stretched out and the book open on his lap. The firelight danced across his face and the worn paperback, softening both in a way that made her throat tighten unexpectedly.

Y/N didn’t stop him.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t even roll her eyes.

Instead, she just kept crocheting as his voice filled the room again—low and warm and surprisingly steady, each word threading between them like another row in the blanket between her hands.

The fire crackled quietly, a low hum behind Harry’s words. Outside, the wind pressed against the windows like a whisper, muffled by thick snow. Inside, everything felt smaller. Closer.

Safer.

Before they knew it Time clicked away,  Harry read without pause, his voice dipping with tension, rising with humor. The tips of his fingers tapped the page as he spoke. He didn’t rush. Didn’t perform. It almost felt like he forgot she was there—like he read for himself.

Y/N curled her legs beneath her and tried to focus on her stitches, but her hands were stiff with cold. The blanket wrapped around her wasn’t cutting it anymore. The fire helped, sure—but her body craved something more immediate. Something warm and alive.

Something like the man sitting next to her.

She told herself it was just the temperature. Just comfort. Just necessity.

But her body was already leaning before her mind caught up.

First, her shoulder brushed against his arm.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her, a quiet glance, but he didn’t stop reading. He didn’t flinch or shift away. Instead, he adjusted slightly, tilting the book so she could see the page better. His posture relaxed, the corner of the throw blanket brushing her knee now.

It was a silent invitation.

She didn’t pull back.

A few pages later, her knee nudged against his.

Then the blanket slipped off one shoulder, goosebumps rising instantly along her skin.

Without missing a word, Harry reached behind them, grabbed the thicker throw blanket draped over the couch, and gently, wordlessly laid it across both of them. His hand grazed her arm in the process—warm and steady, grounding her like an anchor.

Y/N’s breath caught.

It was subtle.

Barely anything.

But somehow… it was everything.

She didn’t lean away. Didn’t speak.

She just listened—to the story, to the fire, to the steady, deliberate rhythm of his voice beside her.

And when she finally let her hook fall into her lap, resting her yarn beside her, she didn’t even notice her head tipping onto his shoulder.

She should’ve shifted. Should’ve made a sarcastic quip. Should’ve rebuilt the distance they’d so carefully maintained since the moment they met.

But instead… she let it happen.

Harry didn’t speak. Didn’t tease.

His arm moved slowly behind her back, slipping across her shoulders and resting with gentle weight along the curve of her body. He didn’t squeeze. Didn’t pull. Just held her—warm and patient, as if he’d known all along she would fold eventually.

He read on like nothing had changed.

But it had.

Y/N sat curled beneath his arm, blanket pooled around them both, the steady rise and fall of his voice softening into something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time—safe. It wasn’t the story anymore that had her full attention. It was him. The way his chest moved beneath her cheek. The slow cadence of his breathing. The warmth that radiated off him like a second fire.

Her fingers twitched slightly beneath the blanket and—without meaning to—came to rest lightly over his chest.

Harry’s voice faltered for half a second. Barely noticeable. But she heard it.

He cleared his throat, blinked down at the page, and continued reading.

The book was hitting its emotional stride. Rachel was unraveling. Dex was making excuses. Darcy was still in the dark. The drama should’ve made Y/N roll her eyes—but now, it felt different. Like every word was being read not just aloud, but to her.

Specifically.

Intentionally.

And yet, it wasn’t performative. There was no smugness, no smirk on his face. Harry wasn’t playing a role anymore. He was just a boy reading a book, holding a girl who used to swear she hated him.

Somewhere around the middle of the chapter, her eyes started to flutter shut. Not from boredom. Not even from sleep. But from the calm—the peace—that had settled deep in her chest.

Her head dropped fully onto his shoulder. She felt his muscles tense just a little. Then relax again.

She didn’t mean to nuzzle closer.

But she did.

And he didn’t stop her.

His hand shifted slightly, brushing up her arm until it rested at the bend of her shoulder. The pads of his fingers touched her like she might disappear if he held too tight.

She didn’t.

She stayed.

By the time he finished the chapter, the room had gone quiet again.

He glanced down at her.

Y/N was still awake—barely—but her eyes were half-lidded, lashes brushing her cheeks, mouth parted the slightest bit. Her fingers were still resting against his chest. Her body tucked along his side like it had always belonged there.

Harry closed the book slowly and rested it on the table.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t want to break the moment.

Instead, he looked at her. Really looked.

She wasn’t scowling.

Wasn’t rolling her eyes.

Wasn’t biting back a sharp remark.

She just looked… soft.

Warm.

Real.

Like someone he hadn’t fully met yet—but wanted to.

He exhaled slowly and let his head fall back against the cushion. One arm still around her, his other hand drifted beneath the blanket and found her wrist, thumb brushing gently against her skin.

///

The room was quiet now.

Outside, the wind had calmed, settling into a gentle hush as snow drifted steadily from the sky. Inside, the fire burned low—an amber flicker casting long, slow shadows across the wood-paneled walls. The candles had melted into puddles at their bases, the scent of wax and cedar still hanging faintly in the air.

Y/N stirred.

She blinked slowly, breath catching as her brain registered warmth. Not just from the fire—but from beneath her. Around her.

Soft cotton brushed her cheek.

A rhythmic rise and fall pressed against her ear.

She was warm—warmer than she had been in days.

And then… she realized why.

She was in Harry’s lap.

Her entire body, tucked up in the fetal position, was curled over him like he was a makeshift mattress. Her head rested against his chest, right over his heart. One of his arms cradled her back, the other resting lazily on the armrest. Her legs were folded across the couch cushions—but she was definitely on him.

Panic flared first. Sharp and fast.

She jolted upright a little too quickly, like she’d just realized she’d been snuggling the devil himself. “Oh my god,” she breathed.

Harry, still half-asleep, cracked one eye open. His lashes were mussed, his curls a soft halo around his face, and his T-shirt was wrinkled from the weight of her cheek. He looked far too good for someone just waking up.

A crooked smirk curved his lips. “Well, well,” he murmured, voice deep and sleep-slicked. “Look who decided to wake up.”

She stared at him, still trying to get her brain to reboot. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“You were out cold,” he said, stretching slightly beneath her. “Didn’t move when I shifted. Or when the fire popped. Or when I put the blanket back on you.”

“I—” She paused, biting her lip. “I thought I fell asleep on the couch.”

He blinked. “You did. I just happened to be part of it.”

She groaned and flopped forward again, face hitting his chest with a muffled thud. “God. This is humiliating.”

“Disagree,” he said lightly, his fingers brushing her arm through the blanket. “You’re surprisingly cuddly.”

“I’m cold,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“You’re clingy,” he corrected.

“You’re annoying.”

“And yet, here we are.”

His arm was still around her—loose, casual, but firm enough to remind her just how close they’d gotten. Her hand was resting on his stomach, blanket slipped halfway off her shoulder, and she hadn’t even noticed.

She thought about pulling away again. She really did.

But the fire was barely burning, and his chest was warm, and his voice sounded like home in a way it had absolutely no right to.

So she stayed.

Harry didn’t say anything more. Just shifted a little to give her more room, then leaned his head back and exhaled softly through his nose. His fingers trailed slow, absentminded circles on the back of her sweatshirt—barely-there movements, rhythmic and comforting.

Y/N's pulse thudded louder in her ears.

This wasn’t just convenience. This wasn’t just about staying warm.

It was something else.

Eventually, she whispered, “You’re not… what I thought you were.”

Harry tilted his head just enough to glance down at her. “No?”

“I mean, you are. Kind of. But also not.”

He chuckled. “That clears it up.”

She pulled the blanket higher. “I mean… I thought you were all talk. Just ego and flirting and jokes.”

“I am.”

“But you’re also…” She trailed off.

Softer.

Sweeter.

Steadier than she wanted to admit.

Harry smiled lazily. “You can say devastatingly charming. I won’t stop you.”

She elbowed him lightly. “Shut up.”

He laughed again—low and genuine—and this time it tugged something loose in her chest.

For a while, they didn’t say anything. Just laid there, tangled under the blanket, breathing in sync.

Y/N’s eyes began to droop again. Her fingers curled loosely into the hem of his T-shirt. Harry’s hand never stopped tracing her back. The fire crackled, and somewhere between the silence and the comfort, she let herself drift off again

/

The morning sunlight crept in slow and honeyed, stretching long arms across the hardwood floors and casting warm halos around the quiet room. The fire had burned down to ash, leaving only a faint smell of smoke and the chilled hush of a new day. But still, there was warmth.

Because of him.

Y/N stirred, her face nestled against smooth cotton and bare skin. Her cheek rested squarely on Harry’s chest—his shirt nowhere in sight. One of his arms was tucked behind his head, the other curled tightly around her waist, anchoring her to him. Her thigh draped across his, tangled under the thick blanket that had slipped slightly to reveal the sculpted lines of his stomach.

She blinked slowly.

Took in the rise and fall of his chest beneath her ear. The way his hand rested just beneath her ribs. His scent—soap, firewood, and something inherently him.

And for the briefest, most dangerous moment… she smiled.

It was peaceful. Soothing.

Safe.

And then—the creak.

The front door groaned against the cold.

Voices.

Footsteps crunching snow on the porch. A laugh. A loud, familiar one.

Her heart stopped.

She jolted upright like she’d been electrocuted. “Oh my God—”

Harry stirred, a low sleepy groan rumbling in his chest. “What—?”

She was already wriggling out of his arms, panicking, shoving the blanket aside with a flurry of limbs and regret. Her bare foot hit the cold floor. “Shit, shit, shit—”

“Y/N?” he mumbled, voice gravelly and dazed.

Too late.

The door flew open with a ding from the old bell overhead, and cold air rushed in.

Jessica stomped into the cabin first, wrapped in a marshmallow of a puffer coat, cheeks flushed from the snow. “Y/N! You’re still alive!”

Y/N, halfway to standing, scrambled upright and grabbed the nearest throw blanket, hugging it around her like armor. She forced a tight smile, trying not to breathe like she’d just been sprinting across landmines.

“Hey,” she choked out. “Glad you made it safely.”

Behind Jessica, a second girl stepped inside—shaking snow from her coat, eyes bright and curious.

Taylor.

Long, shiny waves of chestnut-brown hair framed her face like a shampoo commercial. Her skin glowed against the cold, and her bright blue eyes immediately scanned the room like she was taking inventory of the space—and the people in it. 

Y/N felt her stomach twist.

Not because Taylor wasn’t nice. But because she was perfect. The kind of effortless pretty that made you question your own reflection. And the way she looked at Harry when her eyes landed on him?

Well. That said enough.

Harry, who was only just now sitting up, blinked blearily, shirtless and still blanket-wrapped. His curls were messy. His voice was thick with sleep. “Morning…”

Taylor stopped mid-step, jaw slightly slack.

Jessica’s brows rose as her eyes ping-ponged from Harry’s bare chest to Y/N’s flustered appearance.

“Did we interrupt something?” Jessica asked, too casual to be casual.

Y/N snorted—too loud, too fake. “No. No! God, no. I was just… up early. Reading.”

Taylor blinked slowly, eyes still glued to Harry like she hadn’t heard a word. “Hi,” she said, smiling. “You must be Harry.”

Harry rubbed his eyes, squinting toward the sound of her voice. “Uh… I think so?”

Jessica smirked. “He’s usually a little more charming once he’s fully conscious.”

Taylor giggled, stepping farther into the room, but Harry’s gaze had already drifted past her—landing briefly on Y/N.

She wasn’t looking at him.

She was looking anywhere but him.

Still, he caught the way her fingers clenched tighter around the blanket at her chest. The flush across her cheeks that wasn’t from the cold.

Y/N turned her back quickly, darting toward the kitchen, mumbling something about tea.

Jessica didn’t miss it.

Behind her, Harry stood, blanket slipping down slightly as he stretched. His skin glowed in the morning light, shadows cutting across his arms and torso like artwork. Taylor’s stare was hungry. Obvious.

“Ohh its so cold in here” Taylor sad sweetly.

Harry yawned and reached for his shirt. 

“Yeah. I’ll go grab some more firewood.”

As he padded past, Taylor turned to watch him, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip just slightly.

Y/N, from the kitchen, poured water into the kettle a little too forcefully.

Jessica leaned against the counter, one eyebrow cocked. “You good?”

“Peachy,” Y/N muttered.

Jessica smirked. “You’re glowing.”

Y/N gave her a look. “I’m actually coming down from high after thinking someone was breaking in to kill us.”

“Uh huh.”

Behind them, the door creaked again as Harry stepped into the back room to get firewood, and Taylor moved a little further just to watch him. 

Y/N stared down at the tea kettle, face tight.

Jessica studied her best friend for a moment, then casually said, “So You and didn't kill each other?" 

[hayleythesugarbowl]

Could you do something like gamer! Spencer Agnew x bookworm! female reader by chance?

Gamer Boy, Reader Girl || Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you being a reader and your boyfriend spencer being a gamer works perfectly

word count: 528

warnings: none

a/n: yes yes yes omg this is something i’ve thought about a lot! like i’m just a haley out here lookin for my ryan yk 🤧. anyways here’s a cute lil drabble for you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You shifted on the couch, your head in Spencer’s lap as you turned the pages of the book you were fully engrossed in. The only noise was the clicking of his controller and the occasional sound effects coming from the TV.

As he felt you move one of his hands came down to absentmindedly play with a strand of your hair, the one still working the controller.

“How’s the book?” He asked.

You smiled as you answered, looking up at him. “Amazing.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it?”

“So basically this mortal girl gets transported to fae and she goes to school there but there’s this prince who has a tail and—”

He laughed. “Bro’s a furry.”

“No shut up, he’s a hot fae prince who just so happens to have a tail.”

“Dude sounds like a jerk,” Spencer said.

“He is,” you nodded.

“Right I forgot, you like grumpy sunshine or whatever.”

“Ok not the right trope, but so close,” you laughed. “You’re getting better.”

“Having a bookworm girlfriend is really enhancing my vocabulary,” Spencer agreed, his hand now moving to your arm, his fingers trialing over your skin lightly. He cleared his throat. “Watch this: that prince guy is not endgame.”

You clapped dramatically. “Not bad. And you’re just jealous because I’d leave you for him any day,” you joked.

“Ouch,” Spencer clutched his chest in mock offense.

“He’s a fictional man, you never stood a chance,” you teased.

“Kiana said I’m written by a woman, but whatever,” Spencer mumbled, looking at the screen now as his game restarted.

“I’m kidding, Spence,” you say, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek before laying back down. He laid his arm over your waist. “But I am making you read this when I’m done with it.”

“Bro not again, I already read that other one about the crows you like.”

“Yeah, and you loved it.”

“Ok yeah, it was pretty banger,” Spencer agreed, “Dude can pick a lock.”

You giggled at his description. It made you smile to remember that he had gladly read one of your favorite books for you and enjoyed it.

You looked up at the screen and watched his avatar make his way through the abandoned house in the game he was playing. He had tried to teach you for hours once but it had ended in you just watching him and providing commentary as he navigated the map.

“So you will read it?” You asked finally.

“Anything for you, babe,” he answered, stopping the game for a second to lean down and kiss you softly.

And then you were both silent for a while as you focused your attention on your book and he focused his on his game.

You enjoyed this. Just being together as you both did things you loved. Spencer rubbing circles on your hip gently as you turned page after page.

It was nice knowing that you felt so comfortable with him that you could share your interests like this. You didn’t have to talk, just be with each other as you both got lost in other worlds. You could do this for hours, you thought.

And you did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ ahh hope u enjoyed this loves!! more stuff coming soon! also if u know what books i referenced ilysm 💋

[jnhuius]

NIGHT OF SECRECY

pairing. joshua hong x afab!14th member!reader

genre. nsfw / smut

wc. 1,926

content warnings / tags. one scene is inspired by this joshua drabble !! (original author is wonwootattoo), porn with a little bit of plot, let's pretend all of the members still share one dorm, secret relationship, kissing (a lot of it), nicknames (my love, baby, good girl), passing mention of marking/hickeys, fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex (pls wrap it b4 u tap it!), rough sex, p in v, he comes inside, i hate the ending :(

author's note. ❗please reblog ❗ what do i do instead of sleeping? write a smut fic for mr. hong... i fear i've been obsessed with 14th member fics so forgive me for this self indulgent fic... i love joshua and i needed to write him in one way or another 🙏🏻 ALSO THE LACK OF NEW JOSHUA FICS IS INSANE 💔 anyway hope y'all enjoy this

“Hey, Y/N, want to join us? We're going out,” Jeonghan asked.

You shook your head, lounging on the couch as you scrolled through your phone.

“I'm not in the mood to go out today, but have fun and stay safe. Just bring me home some food.”

The members all called out a collective “yes” as they left one by one.

You glanced out the window. The sun was setting, and it was obvious they were heading somewhere to drink until late. You didn’t want to be the one puking her guts out until tomorrow.

You sighed just as Joshua stepped out of his room. You perked up, sitting up with a smile. He approached slowly and placed a gentle hand on your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

“Are you going with them?” you asked.

He nodded. “Mhm. I promise I won’t drink too much. Hopefully, they don’t force me to go all out,” he chuckled.

You smiled, nodding in agreement. He leaned down, kissing you softly, the gesture sweet and familiar.

“Stay safe. I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

He hummed, deepening the kiss just a little.

“I love you. I’ll be back soon,” he said, pulling away to press a kiss to your forehead before straightening up.

You waved goodbye as he headed to the door, pretending to walk slowly and sadly. You giggled, playing along with the act until he stepped out and shut the door behind him.

You smiled as you laid back on the couch. Your relationship with him was a big gamble—being the youngest and the only woman in the group, and dating the third eldest member.

You’d been together for five months now. You both agreed to keep it a secret at first—to see how things would go. You didn’t want your relationship to affect the group dynamics in case it didn’t work out. Eventually, you planned to tell the others… just not yet.

After a few hours of doom scrolling on your phone, you saw it was already 8 p.m. With nothing else to do and feeling tired, you decided to just sleep.

You went into Joshua’s room and stole one of his hoodies before returning to yours. After washing up, you slipped it on—wearing only your underwear underneath—and crawled into bed.

Living with thirteen men usually meant wearing pajamas or shorts just in case, but tonight they were likely too drunk to remember you existed, let alone stumble into your room.

You yawned, enjoying the softness of the comforter against your skin. Wonwoo was probably jealous—you were always the one left alone while they dragged him out.

Smiling to yourself, you closed your eyes and slowly drifted off.

—

Joshua groaned, rubbing his forehead as he entered the dorm. He had barely managed to escape the clutches of the drunk members who wouldn’t let him leave.

Before, he used to stay out with them until they all decided to head home together. But now, with you in his life, he always wanted to return earlier—to spend those quiet, precious moments with you without having to pretend you were just another bandmate.

He sighed, walking toward your room first. He peeked inside, the space dim aside from the soft glow of your Kuromi nightlight—the one he’d given you for your birthday.

You were fast asleep. Of course you were—it was already past 11 p.m.

He tiptoed in, gently pulling the blanket down from your face just enough to place a kiss on your forehead. Then he stood back up and quietly left to shower. You’d always told him not to lie on your bed with “outside clothes,” and he respected that.

After showering, he put on a white tank top and a pair of black shorts. He towel-dried his hair quickly, unable to keep himself from going right back to your room. He stepped in and locked the door behind him.

Joshua padded over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Carefully pulling the blanket down again, he found you curled around Shuasumi—his miniteen plushie.

He almost laughed, biting back the urge to pinch your cheeks from how cute you looked. Slowly, he pried the deer plushie from your arms and tossed it to the corner of the room.

You stirred, groaning as you slowly woke to the feeling of familiar hands gently guiding your body onto your back.

“Joshi?” you murmured, voice thick with sleep as you rubbed your eyes and stretched your legs beneath the blanket.

“Hi, my love,” your boyfriend answered, a dazzling smile lighting up his face.

With one knee on the mattress, Joshua leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, his hand gently gripping your chin as he tried to deepen it without hesitation.

You whined, pushing at his chest.

“Where’s my Shuasumi plush?”

Joshua blinked, taken aback for a second before resting his forehead against yours, a breathy laugh escaping him.

“I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend, and you're thinking about a miniteen plushie?”

“Where’d you throw him?” you pouted, sitting up with sleepy annoyance.

“You don’t need him. You have me. I’m home now,” he chuckled, gently guiding you back down onto the bed as he hovered over you.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling it a bit harshly to angle your face so he could kiss you properly—but not with innocent intentions anymore.

You moaned as you felt his hips move against yours, causing him to push his tongue inside your mouth. Your tongues moved against each other as he gripped your waist, grinding his bulge against your core.

He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting both of your lips as he kissed down your jaw.

“Where’s the other members?” You whimpered, feeling him suck behind your ear, a sensitive zone that he discovered a few months ago.

“Still out. Don't worry, we'll be done by the time they get back,” he now fully pulled off the covers, spreading your legs even further. You felt his hand slide down in between your thighs, a gasp leaving your lips as his thumb came into contact with your covered clit.

“Ah—Shua,” you whimpered, feeling him put pressure as he rubbed circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. You bit your bottom lip as you felt one hand pull the fabric of your panties to the side while the other was in his mouth to lubricate it using his saliva before rubbing it on your slit.

Your clit was in between his index and middle finger as he rubbed your slit, making you even more wet and arch your back. You felt a finger teasing your entrance before gently pushing in, eliciting a gasp from you. He was being gentle, knowing how big his hands are.

“Joshua, fuck—” you dug your fingernails on his arm as you felt him insert another finger inside, slowly starting to thrust it in and out.

“I can feel you tightening around me. Are you this turned on just by fingers already?” He breathlessly chuckled. He continued to move his fingers before circling your clit using his thumb.

“Come on, I need you to cum before I enter you,” he moved his fingers a bit faster and you swore you saw stars as you came undone around him. Your thighs shook, his name being the only thing you were saying as he let you ride out your climax. He continued to thrust his fingers inside you, before pulling out and licking it clean.

“You're a pervert, you know that?” You said, laying on the bed limply.

He chuckled. “Woozi isn't against my gentleman agenda for no reason, sweetheart.”

He leaned down, kissing you deeply while his hands slid down to the hem of your hoodie to pull it off of your body. He kissed your shoulder, before sliding down to your chest. He kissed the valley of your breasts before his hands grabbed one of your boobs, fondling it gently as you moaned.

His thumb then finds your hardened nipple, instinctively rolling over them immediately. You bit your lip as he pulled away, leaning down to capture your nipple in his mouth. You whimpered, feeling his tongue tease your nipple, licking circles before sucking on it.

He did the same to the other one, not stopping for a few minutes before pulling away. He took off his tank top, pulling down his shorts to free his erection while his hand also pulled down your panties. His cock stood proudly against your stomach. It's been inside of you a few times now, but it was still scary.

He rubbed the tip against your clit, letting it get wet from your release. He lined it up with your entrance before slowly and gently pushing inside of you. He moaned as he was sheathed inside of you.

“Oh… good girl, you're taking me in so well,” he gasped, pulling out and gently thrusting back in. You could feel every vein on his length, and it wasn't helping your sensitivity.

“Joshua, holy fuck—” He covered your mouth, leaning down to line up his mouth to your ear.

“Shhh, the members might come home at any second. Keep quiet for me, alright?” He began to thrust a lot more harsher, the bed slightly creaking from the movement. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his tip hit the sensitive spot inside of you. You moaned loudly against Joshua's palm.

“I found it already?” He chuckled before thrusting to hit the same spot over and over again. Your toes curled as one of his hands raised your leg on his shoulders, letting him angle his hips to reach much deeper inside you.

Slowly, his pace was slowly starting to get more fast, rough and erratic. After a few seconds, he was basically fucking you like an animal in heat with how fast he was pounding inside of you.

“Shua—I’m close,” you whimpered.

He nodded, kissing your jaw, “Me too, baby, me too.”

He pulled his hand away from your mouth, his hands spreading your legs even further as he thrusted hard and rough inside of you. You used your hand to muffle your moans, tears pricking your eyes at how good it felt.

“Please, don't stop, only a bit more—” You cried out before coming undone around him for the second time, crying out his name like it was a prayer.

Joshua followed, moaning against your ear as he emptied himself inside you. He rode out his orgasm, thrusting it and out for a bit before pulling out. His release dripped out of your entrance as you laid limp on your bed.

“I'll clean us up, hold on,” Joshua said, out of breath as he stood up to go to your bathroom. He returned clothed, with a towel in his hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed, cleaning you up as he helped you put your clothes back on.

“I have to leave now. The other members might see us,” he said gently, contrasting how he was acting a few minutes ago.

“...Alright,” you nodded. He leaned down, kissing your face. You sighed, relishing his affection before he pulled away.

“I love you, good night,” he returned Shuasumi to you suddenly, you didn't even notice where he pulled him from.

You giggled, “I love you, good night as well,” he kissed you one last time before leaving you alone in your room to actually sleep.

You were excited to tell the members about the two of you soon.

[opropheticsoul]

Taming of the Brat

Hi Sevika Nation! I sat on this so long cuz I couldn’t think of a title lol hope you enjoy. Once again: trans Sevika because I said so!

CW: daddy kink, dacryphilia, mean Sevika (but you earned it tho)

—

To be honest, you should have known you’d end up here. Desperate, writhing and regretful. But you were so fucking pissed off you hadn’t been able to stop yourself.

“Well maybe I’ll just go out by myself. Find someone who gives a damn.”

Sevika’s eyes hardened dangerously. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me Sevika. There’s tons of people out there who wouldn’t cancel on me last minute and I think I’m in the mood to go find one of them.”

Which you certainly did not end up doing. What did happen was your lover crossing the room to grab you firmly by the chin. “Last chance, princess. Take it back.”

“No!” You square your shoulders and look at them defiantly. And boy were you paying for it now.

“I’m sorry Sev!” You cry out, spread out on your shared bed with your legs open. You’re completely naked and there are love bites all over your skin. Sevika is laying in between your thighs and smirking cruelly.

“What was that babe? I didn’t quite hear you.” They give a particularly hard thrust of their fingers in your cunt and you squeal. Fuck you are close.

“I take it back! I take it back, please daddy, I’m sorry!” There are fat tears rolling down your cheeks but it doesn’t move them one bit. They are teaching you a lesson, after all.

“Hmm.” They say pensively, slowing down the motion of their fingers. You whine but don’t even try to chase their touch, afraid of lengthening this lesson of yours. It must have been an hour of Sevika bringing you to the edge of orgasm and stopping just before you reached your climax. “You mean you don’t want anyone else taking care of this pussy of yours?”

“I don’t-I don’t!” You plead. “Didn’t mean it, Daddy. Please forgive me please please?”

“You don’t want to find someone else?” They insist. You shake your head quickly and they slap you across the face, making you moan. “Say you’re mine. Say it!” They suddenly replace their fingers inside you with their tongue and the feeling of it makes your toes curl. It was so warm and nice in your aching hole.

“Yours, daddy! I’m yours! Let me come for you daddy - ah!”

The withdraw their tongue and take twisted pleasure seeing more tears flow from you. They wanted you absolutely fucking wrecked and they didn’t plan on stopping until they were completely satisfied and you were spent.

Sevika turns you over so you’re resting on your hands and feet. Your legs feel like jelly but you steel yourself into the position they’ve put you in, eager to please after your earlier transgression. They line themselves up behind you and firmly grab your hips so they can grind into you without abandon. They’ve long since abandoned their boxers and the feeling of their bare cock sliding against your slit is fucking dizzying.

“Oh god, oh god. Feels so good, you feel so-“

Sevika cuts you off with a firm smack to your behind. You yelp in surprise but they are pleased when you present your ass up even higher for them to hit again.

“That’s a good girl. Looks like someone finally remembers her manners, hmm?” They tease, smacking your ass again and again until you’re sobbing. The sting shouldn’t turn you on this fucking much but it does.

“M sorry daddy! Please, I’ll be good. So good. Please give it to me.” You beg, absolutely desperate to be taken. Sevika coos mockingly as they rub their cock up and down your slit.

“My little girl is ready for Daddy to fuck her stupid?”

You moan deeply and nod your head so fast it almost makes you dizzy. “Lemme take it, daddy, oh please please? I need it, need you so bad.”

Sevika groans and finally, finally pushes their cock inside you in one go. Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ as they bottom out and you can’t help but squeeze all around them. Fuck they feel good.

They have a vice grip on your hips as they pound into you over and over. You’re certain your neighbors will complain (again) about how much noise you’re making but there’s zero chance you can keep it down with the pleasure coursing through your entire body. You shake and cry out for Sevika as your climax rushes towards you.

“Not yet, baby.” They growl while maintaining their overwhelming pace. “You’re gonna say who you belong to first, and you better make it good, slut.”

“You, daddy! I’m yours I’m yours! Only yours!” Your slurred voice spurs Sevika into a frenzy, grabbing your arms and pinning them behind your back with one hand. God, they drill into you like it’s the last chance they’ll ever get. It’s difficult but you manage to gasp out, “Not going anywhere, daddy. I’m always yours, always!”

Sevika’s entire body seizes up as they spurt ribbons of come into you. You groan low and deep when they mercifully command, “Show me baby, lemme see you come for daddy.” Your orgasm is world shattering and you swear you black out for a few seconds. What brings you back to earth is your lover flipping you over and growling in your ear,

“We’re nowehere near finished, brat. Spread your fucking legs.”

Shit, you were in for a long night.

[aphrosheir]

>>> Red Hair, Red Wine, Red Handed Pt. 1 <<<

[A/N: Like, omg. I've been gone for so long. Anyways, enjoy this Melissa fic. I've been cooking up for the last week. I don't know if it makes sense? I hope it does. Melissa and (Y/N) are idiots. Barb is tired of it. Ava wants drama. I hope I did the amazing storytelling of Abbott Elementary justice—everyone say thank you to Quinta! This has like, a lot of Easter eggs. Have fun finding them. I really had a lot of fun writing this.

ITALICS ARE CONFESSIONALS!!!

For the sake of... fitting the word count, this "oneshot" is going to be split into 3 parts.

If y'all enjoy this, I have an idea—completely unrelated to the plot of this one, but set in the same universe—but I'm not too good at keeping those promises. Depends!]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

"So, like I said, Melissa should be the one hosting the party!" Jacob announces to the rest of the faculty with finality and glee.

"Calm down, Hill," she warned, giving the man a side glare. "Just 'cause the rest of youses cooking ain't shit, doesn't mean that I'm gonna turn my house into your personal hotel for Christmas."

"I love Christmas. I do. But you think I’m cleaning up Jacob’s Pinterest Turkey Disaster 2.0? Fuggedaboutit."

"Melissa," Barbara clutched her pearls, a look of betrayal crossing her face as she turned to her work wife. "I'll have you know that I make a darn good prime rib and sweet potato pie for my homeboy, J. Christ!"

Janine stares at her work mother with concern, wondering how much pop culture has Ava and (Y/N) been able to slip into her morning coffee today. Her boyfriend, Gregory, on the other hand, just stares at the camera, pointed at them with eyes that pretty much sums up his exasperation.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) is off giggling at the other side of the faculty lounge, enjoying the seed she had planted. She was, after all, a kindergarten teacher. She knew how to have fun.

You see, Christmas was about a week away. (Y/N), ever the one to die without drama, has thought of a most brilliant plan to fuel her desires: A Christmas dinner for the faculty. Chaos at every corner, burnt food, terrible presents, and even worse karaoke. It was perfect.

"What are you giggling at, shortstack?" Melissa's eyes snapped to the girl, her glasses now perched on top of her head and phone on the table. Her enchanting hazel eyes are now on (Y/N).

Well, shit.

(Y/N) loved the Abbott crew. She loved the drama, chaos, and the occasional camera crew that came with them. She loved them like her own family. But she loved one of them a little more than the others.

Oh, how the raging fire draws in the naive moth.

"Me? Well, Melissa, I know that you love me, but what do I have to do with this?"

(Y/N) ignored the burning of her cheeks and sent a wink to the redhead's way, playing down her insanely noticeable crush; flirting shamelessly and fighting like an old married couple—or two immature children, depending on the day.

But the crew was used to it by now, especially Barbara, who raised a perfectly plucked brow, seeing how far the two would take it before finally realising.

"Melissa and (Y/N) are two extremely smart and capable women." Barbara states with the passion and theatrics that the kindergarten teacher usually carries, but her smile drops at the end of the statement. "But God knows that those two are about as oblivious as the walnuts in Ava's oats."

Melissa responded as eagerly as (Y/N) had started, pursing her lips. "Don't play dumb with me, dolcezza. I've shared lunch with you a lot of times. I need someone who isn't gonna burn down the kitchen with water."

"Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti asking for help?" Ava's voice cut through the thick, unyielding tension in the air, clearly looking to stir the pot.

"I am so tired of them dancing around each other. And not to mention that (Y/N) basically treats me as her personal diary! She doesn't even pay me. I cannot take this anymore."

"(Y/N), you are quite literally a little miracle."

"Shut it, Coleman." (Y/N) bites back at Ava, hopping off the table where she was seated, before waltzing towards Melissa. She got up right on the redhead's face with a sickly smile, "But then again, how could I ever resist you, mi amore?"

Pretending to roll her eyes, Melissa returned to her already cold macchiato with a scoff. "I still can't host, though. I don't want to be cleanin' up after y'allses drunk asses."

"Oh, well, I can host! Just as long as Janine helps me with the decorations," (Y/N) volunteers, and she swears she could hear Melissa's thick accent muttering about her being a suck-up or something.

"What?" Melissa exclaims at the camera, her glare piercing through the lenses.

Janine squeals, sending a shock through the spines of the faculty. "Of course, I'll join (Y/N)! It'll be an honour."

"I can plan!" Jacob announces, standing with the two girls.

"Okay, so I already have a Pinterest board ready, a playlist we can listen to, and matching outfits!"

"It's like if the sun and Redbull had a baby and them babies were triplets." Ava chimed in, staring at the three youngest members of the faculty exchanging ideas at a hundred miles per hour.

As the clock ticks its last tocks to the end of their break, Jacob stands in the middle of the room, "So, (Y/N) is hosting. She'll be cooking alongside Melissa, and the rest of us will bring a dish of our own—Gregory did you put this in here?"

"I had to."

"Put what where?"

"Open parenthesis, asterisk, caps, underlined, "EDIBLE", exclamation mark, exclamation mark, exclamation mark, close parenthesis."

The glances exchanged in the room ranged from eye rolls, knowing, mischievous, and downright evil. Later on, Gregory would come to regret his choice of words like a monkey's paw.

"Alright... Well, let's continue. I'm in charge of overall planning, Ava and Barbara running Secret Santa, Gregory, and Janine on décor, O'shon gets the karaoke machine—goodluck, and Mr. Johnson with the clean up. Be there before 4. Any questions?"

A unanimous chorus of "no" from the crew—and a helpless "I ain't cleanin' up no love juice, y'all hear me?" from Mr. Johnson—signalled the end of their meeting. But before Melissa could walk out of the break room, (Y/N)'s fingers danced lightly on her waist.

"You can come a little early if you want to have a bit of fun." (Y/N) 'whispered' theatrically with her signature wink, letting the message ring through the lounge. Emerald-green eyes shoot her a dangerous glare—equal parts mischief and warning.

Barb offers a sign of the cross while Janine is mentally cursing herself for agreeing to come early, too.

"Get a damn room." Ava groans, walking between the two with a force that separated them before stopping at the door frame. "Let me know which one, though."

The crew stares at the cameras.

"Stop it." Gregory states, devoid of emotion, as he just so happens to be beside Ava and spit out the freshly brewed joe he attempted to gulp down back into his "#3 Best Teacher" mug. "STOP IT."

"I think you just broke my man," Janine declares with concern as Gregory's stiff speedwalk carried him into the safety of his classroom.

The day could not have come any sooner for (Y/N), as Melissa actually took up her offer of coming early, claiming that she needed as much prep time as she could have.

"Ava, I don't know what to wear," she muttered on the phone, feeling herself slipping from reality. "I mean, yes—these dresses are absolutely gorgeous, but I don't think they're it, y'know."

The complaints turned into a grumble, making Ava roll her eyes at her friend's antics. "Baby girl, what do you mean 'it'. You don't wanna be lookin' like no clown there."

"Ava Eva Coleman."

"I know, I know. But, girl. Trust me when I say, Red will be all over you anyways! I mean, come on, have you seen the way she looks at you? I swear I could've seen her drooling that one time you were sick and stuck in hoodies for a week."

It was now (Y/N)'s turn to roll her eyes. As much as she was grateful to find an older sister in Ava, she knew that her boss exaggerates... Well, everything.

"Seriously, don't you have any dresses I could borrow?"

"I love you, (Y/N), but these dresses were made for Ava Coleman—and Ava Coleman does not cook."

"Then what am I supposed to wear?"

"Wear the red dress."

"But, Ava, that's too—"

Before she could protest, the hang-up tone beeped through her bedroom and made way to the brain-crushing silence that followed.

Just as she had put down the brown Mac lipstick that Ava had given her, the doorbell had rang, and her heart dropped to her ass. Curses flew around her as she almost burned herself on the iron she had left on her vanity.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

The rings became even more impatient, and (Y/N) could already feel the scalding remarks that the redhead had in-store for her.

"I'm coming, jeez," (Y/N) yelled, padding down the stairs. "Really, Schemmenti, you could've just said that you missed me."

"As if, shortstack. I could say the same for—"

Melissa's quip hung in the air as she took you in, surprise flooding her. But as quick as she was shot down, Melissa was as quick to regain her composure. Of course she did. She was used to the game that you two had played, ever since the first day you've stepped foot into Abbott.

"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you got all dressed up for me, huh, dolcezza?"

That damned nickname always got butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Stepping back, she let her into the quiant home with a smirk. "You don't look all that bad either; a Philly 11 indeed."

"Yeah, yeah. I still need to fix all of this after we cook, though."

"Hm..." Melissa hummed, raking her eyes over the house. "A house at your age? I'm surprised (Y/N)."

"Okay, I have like... The faintest idea of how old she is. Like, she barely looks 11!"

"It's my father's. One of his properties that he so graciously lent to me. But, I am paying it off. I insisted." (Y/N) looks at the bags hanging on Melissa's fingers, spotting a perfectly wrapped gift in a bag amongst all the cooking supplies she hauled in. A very welcome distraction from whatever the conversation was leading to.

Without another word, she reached down to grab them and set them out on the counter.

"(Y/N), what the hell do you think you're doing," she exclaims in her classic Schemmenti fashion. "Gimme those back."

"Calm down, mi amore." (Y/N) deadpanned, unknowingly letting the nickname slip. She walked over to the massive tree, standing in the middle of her living room and gently placing the gift down. "This is probably the only time you'll see me actually be helpful, and I'm honestly wondering who you got for Secret Santa."

"It's for her. Of course, it's for her."

Melissa looked away from the camera with annoyance. "I don't even know the first thing about the girl."

"I just—she wouldn't shut up about this corny little jawn she found online. Had to call in a favour from a guy I know. Cost me a good chunk'a beer. And gas. And my morals—but hey, who's got 'em in this day and age?"

"Don't even think about peeking, shortie." Melissa fires at her, something triggering her flight of fight mode as her usual quips didn't have the edge thay she had to her voice now. "I could ask you the same thing, seeing as your gift is as huge as Ava's ego."

"It's for someone real special, Red." (Y/N) said in an almost dreamy sigh, Melissa's face contorting into something of a blend between confusion, disgust, and something else that (Y/N) couldn't quite place. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, hm?"

Melissa pursed her lips again, thoughts running through her head like Sweet Cheeks in his wheel, yet thought better than to push it. The classic Schemmenti move to push away genuine feelings and to opt for:

"Well, just don't expect me to cry for anything less than a thousand buckaroos, hon."

"You're assuming it's for you? Wow, Schemmenti. You wish."

"It's for her. Of course, it's for her." (Y/N) let out a laugh that one could only call deranged. "It's always been Melissa."

"Got her this top of the line, custom-made knife set. My friend, Gordon, recommended it to me. It's heavy for all the chopping that Melissa does and with ornate wood handles with her initials because Italians like the pizzazz."

Clang.

"Shit."

"Mel, you okay back there?"

"M'fine." Melissa replied gruffly.

"But see, that's the thing! That's why I stick to flirting. Melissa is not ready for a relationship. She barely even handles non-romantic emotion properly!"

The camera cuts to Melissa raging a war on the automatic stove—hitting it with a frying pan with a war cry, pushing the buttons relentlessly, staring at it and hoping it'll catch on fire and disintegrate; cursing (Y/N) for having techy gabortz in her kitchen that is crushing her damn pride. "(Y/N), your thingamajig is shit! Stoves are supposed to have knobs, not opinions!"

"And besides, I doubt she even likes me."

[zvahlne]

big laurance alternates au post!!

hi welcome to my laurance alternates au post i'm just gonna drop everything on y'all tehee:)) i will share it with somewhat of a narrative but it's not going to be fully fleshed out fic or art atm i apologize... i hope you can enjoy it even if it's unpolished!! with alternates ending tmrw i just really wanted to yap about him before it's over!!! alternates spoilers ahead btw, go watch if you haven't... now say hi to my laurance !!

i have a couple other doodles and writing snippets i will share when relevant in the post!

the au picks up just after the events of episode 4. the group is making their way through the street when aphmau's walkie-talkie starts popping static. they all look around frantically, but instead of any alternates, they notice someone poking out from the rubble... and then notice it's laurance! (or looks like him...)

That was when Aphmau spotted a familiar face in the rubble. She couldn't believe it. Covered in debris, he was... "Laurance?" Aphmau gasped softly. Then it tore out of her - "LAURANCE!" "Aphmau, careful!" Aphmau ignored Travis, rushing to the rubble. "He might still be alive! We have to help him!" "He might be an Alternate!"

aphmau immediately starts digging him out - she can't lose anyone else, not now. travis and katelyn are hesitant, but eventually katelyn starts helping too (extremely ineffectively; she's pretty weak by this point. this is what convinced travis to start digging laurance out, too.)

"Please be alive, please be alive, please, please, please," Aphmau pleaded, voice thick with unshed tears so she could focus her energy on digging Laurance out from the rubble. "Please be Laurance," Travis groaned in response. Aphmau started with a "Travis!..." but ended with a "...Please, be Laurance..."

the first thing laurance sees when his eyes flutter open is aphmau's face - and the first thing he realizes is that he has absolutely no idea where he is. the first thing he feels is pain, all over. something is wrong with him, and he can tell it immediately.

before anyone can ask HIM anything, he asks if aphmau's alright, even while bleeding from the head.

the group then asks him the question we have all been asking him for years - "Where have you been, Laurance???"

his answer? anticlimactic. "I... I don't know?"

travis immediately finds that suspicious, and starts grilling him, standing defensively in front of katelyn, but aphmau tells him to stop. aphmau suggests that he must have hit his head, and katelyn mumbles an agreement. travis momentarily shuts it, but he's not happy about it. aphmau also suggests laurance must have seen the tv broadcast and was looking for her. laurance squints, trying to remember anything through the haze, and...

"Aphmau!" Suddenly, he was grabbing her arms, his eyes wild. Aphmau gasped and the entire group tensed. "I was! I was looking for you!" Travis stepped forward quickly. "LET GO OF--!" Laurance quickly loosed his hands. "TRAVIS, WAIT! Laurance..." she said, and Laurance couldn't remember ever seeing her look so anguished. Not that he could remember much of anything. A gritty determination settled on her brows - "How do I know it's really you?" "I..." "Tell me something only Laurance would know!" she demanded, and Laurance was instantly convinced he ought to... but he couldn't remember anything. His face twisted in horror, a deep dread settling in him in a place he couldn't name. "Aphmau, I..." Suddenly, it came to him, warm like an early autumn day. He was young, and Aphmau was younger, and they were at the park... He was jealous, because he saw her with Garroth... Unable to stop himself from smiling lopsidedly at the memory, he told her, "In high school, I asked you to go in a photo booth with me, and I kissed you on the third flash." "Laurance!" Aphmau cheered, launching herself into hugging him. He tried not to wince too much.

aphmau then checks him for injuries (he winced), asking him where it hurts (his answer is 'everywhere'). katelyn snarks, "Your head's bleeding, let's start with that." she's also leaning on travis and she looks like shit. laurance is immediately concerned, but when he tries to ask her if she's okay, she just reminds him that he's the one bleeding.

travis steps forward and patches up laurance, katelyn lends him a hairtie, and they get moving!

laurance tries to play it cool, but he knows something is wrong with him. things come back to him slowly - when the first emergency broadcast came on, he was with cadenza, babysitting caleb... it interrupted his cartoons, and scared him... then... something in the basement...? how did he get in the street? what happened to cadenza and caleb???

unfortunately with that we've finished one of the most developed segments... but more DOES happen after that!!! if people are interested i will post more!!! points of interest: where are cadenza (there's a very cool answer to this imo!!) and caleb??? wtf happened in the basement??? and laurance's #1 question ofc:

and ummm... here's a playlist you can check out!

which could mean anything

[madtobeme]

Damian Wayne facing a phone camera on a tripod. The shot shows the outside of a small barn with attached paddock and outside stable doors lining the seen side of the building. "Hello my viewers. Many of my siblings have come to be seen sharing information and experiences that I have been informed are unique to our family, or in some cases unique to those with our finical backing. I have decided to do my due diligence to the public and share my own unique experiences at the hand of my family, though admittedly unlike most my fathers other children I have been very fortunate as to have spent my whole life with access to wealth and the lifestyle it has afforded myself and my family. In wanting to participate in the same showing as my siblings, though admittedly not knowing what exactly I should share with my audience, I requested the aid of my friends Collin, and Jonathan."

The camera flips around to show Colin Wilkes and Jonathan Kent sticking their tongues out and making raspberry noises before the camera flips back to Damian. The sound of giggling can be heard as Damian is seen with one eye twitching and a sour look on face.

A harsh blink was seen on damiana end before he released a breath only seen by the puff of his nostrils. "As I was saying, I requested their aid for this venture. It was recommended to me by them that displaying my animals could be a worth while feat. I do hope you enjoy this videoed experience as much I enjoy my animals."

The camera cuts to Damian sitting on a pile of straw seemingly within the barn. His nice polo seemingly a little out of place, yet his relaxed expression as he looked down at a short haired tuxedo cat who stood on the bale behind him, front paws standing on his shoulder as the butted their head against the boys cheeks.

With a smile and eyes not leaving the cat Damian introduced the animal, " This is Alfred the cat, she is an indoor outdoor cat. Though when she's outside must wear her tags." He lists the little fish shaped tag attached to the black collar that blended with the animals fur. "Despite her masculine name, she is in fact a female. A fact we admittedly only learned recently." The camera moves to behind the bale of straw that Alfred sits on to show a cat sized nest filled with 4 squirming kittens with eyes not yet opened. "Admittedly we had assumed she was a neutered male, obviously we were wrong. As soon as she has finished nursing them we shall have her spayed."

The camera cuts again, this time to a wash bay where a bay horse stands in its cross ties. Damian stands next to the large animal, detangling the horses main with a large comb. "This is my arabian stud colt, عاصي (Asi). He is two years old, and was a gift from my mother. His dam, mother, was a favorite of mine growing up. My mother had her bred with me in mind. I intend to back him, and have him trained in endurance. His temperment is good, and I do aprove of his cobfirmation so dependingon how his training and endurancecareer go I may have him remain intact or choose to geld him in the future."

"We have a pair of quarter horses mixes back at ma and pa's, but there more pasture ornaments than anything else " A voice from behind the camera pipes.

"Horses are herd animals. Admittedly, Asi's stay here is currently only accompanied by Batcow, whom we shall visit shortly. I do, however, have plans to rectify this for both of them in the near future."

"Does your dad know about your plans for more animals?" A different voice than before adding to the moment.

Damian gave a sharp smile, face only just looking towards the camera away from the horse, "You're assuming father even knows about Asi."

A camera cuts again.

The camera zooms in as Damian's face a few small pink rubber bands held between as his teeth, a slight shift of the camera shows him braiding the horses main.

The camera cut again.

Seemingly in the pasture now, Damian stands in front of a large brown and white cow.

The very Gotham accent from just before could be heard, "Who's this?"

"This lady is Batcow. She is a Hereford, she was saved from a slaughter house, and it was shortly after she was brought here that I choose to pursue vegetari-" A rush of barks was heard before a series of barks came running behind Batcow.

The camera zoomed in to a horse of a dog with a stick somehow longer than the dog in his mouth, quickly fallowed by a German Shepard, the source of the barking. "Aaaaand there goes Titus and Ace." The very not Gotham voice added, though there did seem to be a laugh also from behind the camera.

The camera cut to what appeared to be behind the barn, camera tilted up to focus on the roof of the barn where a turkey could be seen. The camera zoomed out to show Damian standing arms crossed. He turned back to the camera, "My turkey Jerry." A zoom in on the turckey in question.

"Why is he on the roof?"

"He's a turkey." The statement of non Gothamite, with a tone of absolute certainty.

"He is a turkey." Damian nodded.

The camera cut.

Damian looked down at the camera as whoever was carrying it seemed to be making their way up a later to join him. "We must be quiet. He is sleeping."

The camera peaked up over the second story of the building they were in, a layer of straw covered the floor and a flash of red before the camera seemed to tumble down a smidge.

"DAMIAN WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?"

"You didn't warn Colin about Goliath?"

"Shhhh. He is a demon bat. He sleeps during the day. Now come, get up here. Besides you have nothing to fear, he is only a threat if I command him to be." The camera seemed to shake as it made its way over the edge of the flooring.

"That is not reassuring Damian."

There the camera gave a clear view of what the camera only barely captured before. There Damian was seen squatting in front of a blur of red, back turned toward the camera as he seemed to be slowly petting massive pointed fluffy ears. Beyond the sight of Damian on either side were stretched out red leathery wings, entire cushioned by a bed of straw. Adjusting his position, Damian moved to sit fully on the floor, legs crossed, and he moved the beasts, snoring head to rest on his legs. He had the face of a massive bat, with a shortened snout that had a bull ring through its nose. He looked toward the camera, rolling his eyes and making a come closer motion with his hand. With a shaking hold, the camera seemed to come just a small bit closer.

"As many of you may or may not be aware of, my father funds a large portion of the justice league, providing accesses to the necessary tools and information that the superhero's of our world often need. It is because of this connection that I was graciously asked to take part in the care of Goliath."

"Robin found him during one of his adventures and he entrusted his care onto myself and my family, knowing we had the funds and resources necessary and specific to care for him. " Staring down at the beast resting on his lap, with a soft smile that seemed to only be for his animals he spoke softly. "I am quite blessed to have him, and my other animals in my life. Thank you for joining me and my friends for my take on sharing what my life has blessedly provided me with."

The camera cut.

This post is inspired by a similar one that i can't find but it specifically talks about Damian with a horse lol. If someone finds it please link in comments :)

[thecheshireprincess]

The Little Things

Shuntarō Chishiya x GN!Reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Summary: Maybe the little things are the most important of all 🫶🏻

Content Warning: Mentions of blood, canon-typical violence (not explicit, just the aftermath), probably curse words bc I have no chill, little bit angsty but happy ending

A/N: Just a quick little Chishiya drabble; super short, kind of angsty, kind of fluffy (like me rn)

I hope you enjoy 🫶🏻✨️

Your relationship was built on a foundation of simple little things - small actions intended to evoke a smile, to make your life better. There was nothing grandiose or romantic about it, or so you'd always told yourself.

It was the coffee made just right, a wisp of steam billowing in the air as it waits on your desk before your overnight shift at the hospital. It was his steady, comforting presence at your side when you lost a patient or needed to find a way to deliver difficult news to a family. It was the way he always swooped in with takeout and the promise of companionship just when you were about to let yourself succumb to the familiar abyss of loneliness. The man was a steadfast presence over the years, his blonde hair casting light even in the darkest corners of your life.

But the Shuntarō Chishiya you knew would never say the three words most people yearn to hear, and you would never be caught begging to hear them from him. Doing so would implicate him in deeper feelings for you, would mean that there was something more significant than friendship between the two of you. And wouldn't that just ruin everything? Somehow, deep down, both of you know; though it's kept locked away like an inside joke that only you can understand. That his actions have spoken louder than words ever could, that he has been silently telling you all these years with every lunch together, every time he's shared his umbrella with you, every squeeze of your shoulder in encouragement.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

And now in this moment - after weeks - months? - of fighting for your lives together in a ruthless world and the lines of your friendship softly blurring, you feel the tug of desperation sinking in your stomach like a brick. Your heart cries out a silent plea as you sink to your knees on the warm, cracked asphalt beside him.

Please don't leave me here. I need you. I love you.

Fading chestnut eyes blink up at you, a crimson stain pooling slowly but distinctly on the ground; the consequence of a violent blend of pride, hatred, and similarity. Your shaking hands flit over his abdomen, a little pressure here, more pressure there. Blood soaks quickly through his signature white jacket, and before you know it, your hands are coated in the shiny slick too. Your eyes widen in true terror - there was nothing you could do in a place like this, any and all medical supplies in the area long gone. Chishiya knew it too, his cold, steady fingers gently finding yours instead, rubbing soothing patterns across your trembling skin.

"I do, you know. Always have," his voice rattles out with a wheeze, his death bed speech short but not surprising. He says just enough to make you let out a choked sob, your heart shattering like delicate glass in your chest. The memories of your time together both here and in the old world flicker through your mind on rapid fire, simultaneously breaking you further while also breathing new resolve into you - he has to live.

You nod emphatically, joyous and terrified tears mixing at your waterline. "I know, me too," you sniffle, stray tears cascading down your adrenaline-colored cheeks, "Tell me when we get home, okay? Consider it motivation to stay alive." The look on his face as he studies you, as if trying to memorize exactly what you look like in this moment - the moment you've essentially confessed your silent love for one another - knocks the wind out of your lungs in devastation. He brushes a hand over the wet path your tears took, cooing unintelligible words of comfort as he attempts to guide you to lay against him with a wince.

"Chishiya! What are you doing?" you ask in alarm, awkwardly maneuvering your body to avoid falling against his bloodied injuries. He huffs a slight laugh through his nose at the way you contort yourself as if trying to avoid something scary. "Lay with me, please? It might even help stop the bleeding," he jokes, his characteristic smirk stretching on his lips.

After a moment of anxious contemplation, teeth grating at your bottom lip, you gingerly allow yourself to curl against his less injured side. Any nervous tension left in your body melts away as he tilts your chin up to look at him. His shining eyes are filled with more emotion than you'd have thought he was capable of, somehow knowing they were a perfect mirror of your own. "You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?" he whispers, searching your soul for the answer he wasn't really expecting from your mouth. Tears blur your vision again, threatening to ruin your tender moment. Chishiya doesn't mind, doesn't hesitate any further.

With a genuine smile, he pulls your rosy lips to meet his in the middle, soft skin meeting soft skin for the first time as your eyes flutter shut. Finally. His kiss is gentle but full of unplaced emotion; full of words you may never hear spoken outloud. None of that matters, now. Chishiya pours every ounce of love he has for you into your lips as you move softly against each other, hands gently exploring uncovered skin. This would be enough for you, it might have to be.

Breathless and looking a little paler, Chishiya lets go of your swollen lips, gently guiding your head to the place where his neck and shoulder meet. "Let's rest and wait for Arisu and Usagi to do their job, hm?" he asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like it belonged there, fingers stroking your bare arm. You snuggle into him further, pressing your hand carefully to the wound that was bleeding faster and situating yourself where you could hear the still steady thump of his heart. You focus in on the way it sounds, making each beat your mantra. Stay alive. The beautiful symphony of his proof of life lulls you into a light slumber as the sun sets in the sky, casting twilight shadows around Shibuya.

You shoot up in surprise as you're startled awake by hundreds of fireworks lighting up the starry sky above you. Your heart leaps with joy in your chest - Arisu and Usagi had actually done it. You don't realize that tears of relief are streaking warmly down your cheeks until the pad of Chishiya's thumb swipes them gently away. You hurriedly turn to kiss him again, a wave of calm surging through your body knowing he had made it. Your kiss now is a stark contrast to earlier; deeper, more passionate. All teeth and tongue as you express your excitement. You'd won.

When the cheerful robotic voice gives you your final choice, having interrupted your moment of passion, you look up at Chishiya for an answer. You want whatever he wants, and up until now he has been pretty on the fence about that. His tired eyes, framed by darkened circles look down to study you. "I don't want it," he mumbles with a strained cough, "I think." You grin dazzlingly up at him, his fingers stroking through your hair while you contemplate what you're going to say. "I want to go home," you murmur confidently, "With you." You lay your head back against him, nuzzling into his neck as your body grows heavy. The last thing you remember before the world you'd come to know fades to black was a warm kiss pressed to the crown of your head, and the comforting sound of Chishiya's voice.

I love you.

What you'd once considered the little things, well, maybe they weren't so little after all.You wouldn't be taking those for granted anymore.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Masterlist

Everything Tag List: @potato-vagina @28361573 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mocchii-writes @monkey4lifer @trinibadgyal @izzybizzyk

Chishiya Tag List: @kimsrie @jjkxxy

Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of my tag lists! You can specify if there's a character you like or if you want to see everything. Also, my asks and messages are open, PLEASE reach out, I would literally die to interact with you; ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[anony-man]

Dipping my toes back into the side community here. We’ll see how it goes… in the meantime, if this is up your alley, please enjoy. 🫶

2k+ words of RungMax vore. Soft, safe, fluffy. Read on ao3 or under the cut.

When Rung suggested such a strange new approach to handling their more difficult therapy sessions, Fort Max had been pretty hesitant. It was one thing to trust the small psychiatrist to share space with him in the privacy of the office. He was experienced, and he was in his element, and so far no matter what had cropped up during their difficult discussions, he had had no trouble clearing the air and leaving Fort Max feeling lighter than he had going in—usually, of course. If not, he was happy to support and successful in his attempts of offering aid even hours after things had settled.

Rung knew his patients well, and he knew himself even better. It was kind of expected from a mech like him, of course, but Fort Max appreciated it nonetheless. It made heavy conversations easier, and it helped him feel safe, heard, and secure, especially when his mind started retreating back into the cold, dark places it had grown so used to inhabiting.

He trusted Rung, and Rung trusted him. Rung also trusted himself, and he encouraged his patients to do the same. Alas, Fort Max just… hadn’t gotten quite that far just yet.

There was still time, he supposed. He hoped there was still time.

No difficult session was ever begun without proper preparations first, and to his relief, the small psychiatrist always valued prep work over progress. That didn’t mean pressure was never put on him to come out of his shell and open up, but Rung seemed to know just the right mixture of pressure and comfort to get Fort Max on the right track.

He had anticipated another difficult session today, it seemed, and as Fort Max ducked under the doorway and lumbered into the room, he was met with the sight of every creature comfort that existed aboard their ship all packed onto the floor of Rung’s office.

It was definitely going to be one of those days, then, and his chest had already begun to ache from the mounting anxiety.

“Ahh, there you are,” Rung said. He had a warm smile at the ready and an even warmer cube of energon settled in front of him. “Come on over, have a seat. There’s a few things I’d like to address with you before we begin.”

Silently, Fort Max obliged. The room was far from the smallest aboard their ship, but even then, the furniture was sized to Rung’s liking. Small chairs and even smaller decorations were dwarfed all the same compared to the massive mech, and as carefully as he tried to step his way across the floor, its walls still shook with low, thunderous tremors. Rung was even smaller when he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Fort Max tried not to let the thought linger in his helm as he knelt down to the doctor’s level and reached for the cube sitting between them.

Rung was quiet for some time, his presence a silent comfort as Fort Max slowly acclimated to the new setup. The pillows and blankets were soft, and the weight of something warm in his servos was grounding. He even tried a few sips here and there, just to say that he had done it. It was never quite enough, though. It was never enough to keep him from spiraling hours after their sessions had ended, and it was never enough to stop him from shifting his focus elsewhere, towards the things lurking in the corners of his mind and the memories tucked deeply out of sight.

It took some time before Rung began to speak, and at first, Fort Max had mistaken it for hesitation on the other mech’s end. Only once the small psychiatrist had started did he realize the long stretch of silence had been intentional.

“I would like to try something today,” he said, “but before I explain what it is, I’d like for you to promise me something.”

For Rung, he would have done just about anything. Rung was the mech who had pulled him out of the darkness and given him a taste of hope time and time again, and the small doctor had proven himself as a safe place to fall, a trusting source of comfort. Fort Max owed it to him, if anything. He owed him the level of trust that was required for the proposed act. The more he listened, however, the more he grew concerned. The more he grew concerned, the more hesitant he became.

The suggestion wasn’t… new, per se. It was new in the sense of performing it, however. It wasn’t new to Rung, but it was new to Fort Max.

He had never eaten a mech before. Primus, he had never even considered swallowing one whole, but here he sat, his digits anxiously fiddling in his lap as he slumped in his seat and still loomed over Rung by far.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” the little therapist said, his servo reaching out to offer added support.

One of Rung’s servos was about the same size as Fort Max’s smallest digit. He curled in a little deeper, his frown growing.

“What if I hurt you?” he asked, the warm, untouched cube clutched tighter against his chest. He could hardly look Rung in the optics now, let alone lift his gaze from the floor. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“It’s safe,” Rung said. There was still a stretch of space between him, but Fort Max could still feel the warmth and assurance comforting him through the words alone. “I promise you, Max, it’s safe. I’ve spoken with Ratchet, and I’ve reached out to a few old friends regarding this matter.”

Fort Max wanted to agree. He wanted to oblige, and he wanted to make Rung happy. And deep down, he… he…

“I don’t know,” he said, shifting in his seat as he balanced his cube between his servos. Even his servos were massive compared to the small doctor. He could probably hold him in both his palms. “I… I’m afraid something would go wrong.”

Another stretch of silence passed, and he anxiously awaited Rung’s response. The small doctor didn’t seem angry, and he didn’t seem upset. If anything, he seemed sympathetic. No, not sympathetic… understanding.

“I’ll admit, this would be my first time performing this particular approach,” he explained, stretching his legs out and leaning back against the chair behind him. His servos were folded in his lap, and his glasses sat beside him. “But I do believe it would help you, Max. It would be a big step, but I believe it would help.”

The unspoken words still hung heavy in the air. If you are ready and willing, he could almost hear Rung say. I encourage you, but I will not force you.

Rung relaxed, and Fort Max sighed, dragging a massive servo down his face before setting his cube aside and twiddling his thumbs. He could see the appeal, that was for sure. It was just so difficult for him to open up when there was another mech sitting across the room from him, eyeing his every move and gauging his emotions. He wouldn’t be alone, but he would feel alone, and he could sit there, all alone, settled comfortably in the center of the pillows and blankets strewn across Rung’s office floor with the lights dimmed and a comfortable presence warming him up from the inside.

He could still talk, and Rung would still listen. They could make progress. He didn’t even have to look the tiny therapist in the optics for this session… if he took the offer given to him, that is.

He didn’t want to think of the logistics, and he didn’t want to consider the safety concerns involved. The mere thought threatened to launch him back into the past, back where he had been trapped under the control of his abusers and wrapped around Overlord’s fingers. He didn’t want to put Rung into a dangerous situation, and he certainly didn’t want to become like… like them.

“Fortress Maximus?” he heard Rung’s gentle voice call out. “Are you still with me?”

“Yes,” he said, his own voice sounded distant, faint. “I… I want to try it.”

As expected, Rung assured him that he didn’t have to comply. He didn’t have to agree to this, and he didn’t have to just… give in. It was his choice first and foremost, and it was his choice both as the patient and as the one who would host a living, breathing being in the confines of his tanks—but only for a little while, of course, and comfortably so.

The hesitation and fear of punishment was what gave Fort Max pause, but Rung seemed earnest. It was a genuine offer, and that much was obvious. Rung was a genuine mech, though, and Fort Max had slowly come to learn and accept that as fact. In the end, that was what pushed him over the edge.

The logistics were much simpler than he had first imagined, and while it was an awkward situation at first, Fort Max powered through. He struggled for the first several minutes, and the act of choking down an entire mech almost made him call it off entirely. Feeling Rung slowly slide past the slick lining of his throat and settle deep, deep into the pit of his tanks was unsettling at first, but once the small psychiatrist had stopped moving and stopped squirming, he allowed himself a moment to relax into the sensation.

The weight was a foreign sensation, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was like a warm meal settled in him and filling him up nicely, but… not. Warm, squirming, and just big enough to leave a noticeable swell from the outside, Rung fit perfectly inside his belly, and Fort Max found himself struggling to keep his flustered emotions and hot cheeks to himself.

This was Rung’s idea, he reminded himself, which meant it was safe. He felt safe. He hoped Rung felt safe, too.

Fort Max moved slowly, and he moved carefully. He could feel Rung inside of him, neither struggling nor panicking, and it soothed his fears just enough to let himself relax. It felt good, just like he had expected it to. His belly had stretched out to accommodate the large mass, and he felt warm from the inside out. It was nice… dare he admit that it felt nice?

“How are you faring?” the muffled sound of Rung’s words brought him out of his worries, and Fort Max almost started at the sensation of words rumbling from inside his tanks. “You seem to be pretty relaxed from in here… are you still okay with this?”

Fort Max nodded, lifting a tentative servo to stroke his belly. Then, as he suddenly realized Rung couldn’t see him anymore, stumbled over a verbal reply.

“Yes, I—I… I feel good. I feel safe,” he said, relaxing ever more as he stroked his fingers over the stretched mesh of his belly. “Er… do you?”

It took him a moment to realize the nagging, tickling sensation that left tiny tremors running through the stretched mesh was actually Rung’s laughter and not a sign of a struggle. Fort Max’s face slowly split into a wobbly smile, the reassurance that his tiny doctor really was safe and sound inside of him a soothing thing.

“I am,” he heard the muffled voice say, “and I assure you, Max, it will remain that way. I wouldn’t dare jump headfirst into any new approach for you to try without careful consideration first.”

It was true; Rung had proven himself to be a very trustworthy companion and clinician over their time together. Still… Fort Max worried.

The big mech slowly began making himself comfortable amongst the spread of pillows and blankets lining the floor, and he eventually ended up in what had first been Rung’s spot leaning against the therapist’s chair. He could see the whole room from there, and he could see the door. It was a comforting thought, and it was made even more comforting to realize that Rung was sitting there with him, too.

This was the first time they’d had close contact in such a way since… since the…—

“Talk to me some more, Max,” he heard Rung say. “Where are your thoughts at? Would you like to start our session, or would you like to sit and settle in a little while longer?”

He already knew the answer to that, but it was hard to speak the words aloud. Fort Max slouched a little lower in his spot and rested both servos atop his belly, taking care to ensure they didn’t crush the fragile bot housed inside. He was still processing the level of trust it had taken for Rung to suggest this, let alone go through with it. In addition to that, he was still basking in the warm comfort it brought him to have a bot inside of him, filling up his tanks and warming him, providing a sense of comfort he never would have imagined existed.

He needed a bit more time like this. He wanted to enjoy it just a little longer before they began unpacking the thoughts swirling in his processor that day. To his relief, Rung seemed to understand.

“We’ll sit like this for a little while longer,” the small psychiatrist said. Fort Max could feel him shifting, moving, and getting comfortable inside. “Just say the word… then we can begin.”

[izayoichan]

The future of this blog, kinda part two? (sorry for the wall of text.. again!) It's been a lot of trying to find the love for sims again for me, trying to find the fun. But I have come to the conclusion, that right now, it just is not. I have not uppdated, opened, touched the for anything but taking a couple of screenshots because I comissioned poses so I wanted to use them, or I just felt (stupidly I guess) that I had to so this blog had sims content. That is what this blog is to me, its linked with sims, the story I started creating with them, and friends that also love sims. But like mentioned, for me the fun of sims is gone. (Thank you EA, for constantly making sims worse and worse and boring to the point where it's for me just not worth spending energy on). So I will from tomorrow let what I have left of the story that's already written post twice a day until it's done. I will at the same time share all the last sims screenshots I have lying around that I have kept to myself because spoilers and me having the need to be a little secrety, and when that is all posted and ended, I will make a post with a new blog, a new start for me to find my fun again. I don't want to delete what is here, because I am actually proud of it, that I managed to share and write a story for the first time. So instead I am making a new blog, where I will post random screenshots, random things I find, reblog more stuff that I find pretty and so on. I am working on going back to streaming for fun as well, but that will take time and some effort as I want certain things, and I want to do them right and properly. (Live 2d avatars are not easy, cheap or fast to have done!) So the progress on that might be on my new blog as well, and maybe when time comes, I will have clips of sillness and me grumbling and cursing the game while I once more fail miserably at Elden Ring. Yes, I will still follow a lot of the same people, because although my relationship with sims is (for now) at an end, I still love your stories, and your little pixel figures. I am not breaking away from that, I am breaking away from my own stuff. Do I feel like I let people down, a little, but I know that's just how my brain works and that this is doing what is best for me outweighs that worry. (specially after talking to some people about it for some input, and them saying I should do what it best for me. See I am listening!) A little health update at the end, for those interrested: I am slowly doing better, new doctor and new scans have brought more understanding, more peace of mind, and I am back on most of my pain meds, which means my body is slowly stabalizing into a new place. Not quite as good as I was before "hell year" started, but also not as bad as I have been. I'll take every step in the right direction with a big smile on my face.

So for now, enjoy the sims content that will come. And when the time comes, perhaps I will be seeing a lot of you on the new page as well!

[kindaorangey]

recently i've been thinking about rowan omondi in terms of the "supportive black best friend" trope. i've had this idea for a while that it would be interesting to see a story that deals specifically with the psychological effects of being the designated "support friend", especially in cases where that character addressing/expressing their own emotions and advocating for themself would be stigmatised because of their race... and obviously, rowan fits into this neatly, actively repressing and refusing to talk about his feelings because he isn't usually given this sort of support by his friends, it's usually him who's supporting them. and i guess on a metatextual level, once he begins to address his own emotional repression and step down from that support role, you could view it as him becoming cognisant of his own role as the "supportive black best friend".

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- part one

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- eventually explicit sex, freaky but fluffy- this part- obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mentions of sex, Satoru jerking off, whimpering (bc ofc) he becomes a little Yan tbh, Satoru half ass pleasing a client but he can't get you off his mind hehe, pretty woman vibes 🤭

This will be a fun set of drabbles in this style! I hope you all enjoy them lmk if you wanna get tagged in the next parts <3

Part two>>>

Escort! Satoru who doesn't just sleep with any client, no he's picky certainly, he gets to be at this caliber, of the most notorious escort there is. Some women he'll help get off with his fingers, some he'll only let suck his cock deep in their throat, some very lucky ones he'll actually fuck, bent over crying out his name. No matter what however, they were always pleased, he has the best rating there even is on his site.

Escort! Satoru only takes jobs and clients that he feels like, he's the most popular person on this app, highly requested, he can browse who he's meeting before hand. And if he absolutely can't stand them, perhaps that - gasp - hate Digimon!? - he keeps it to just the date, a polite fake smile on his perfect features, baby blues hidden behind his dark round shades.

Escort! Satoru gets a notification, lounging around in his penthouse, yes Gojo is rich from this career, but he enjoys the thrill of this even more, and he enjoys putting a smile on a pretty girls face, giving them pleasure when they may have never had any. His dick is just too pretty not to share with the world, truly. - That may seem conceited but it's really just factual! - He peers at the notification then, blinking quickly as the picture, so gorgeous he's damn near blushing just from seeing your face, your bare shoulders in a slinky dress, fuck since when does he get half hard looking at collarbones!?

Escort! Satoru is already throbbing and hard the longer he stares at your picture, your shy and sweet little message on there with it - 'I have never done anything like this... but with work, I have no time for anything, and... I really need a handsome date to this charity ball. Could you please come with, I will gladly pay you extra to spend some time before so we can have our story together' Satoru blinks a bit, full lips pursing, beginning to type back. 'You buying lunch?' He smirks as you laugh react to his comment. 'I'm buying lunch'

Escort! Satoru doesn't date in real life, he's merely arm candy for many women, but when he sits across from you at the outdoor diner, and you smile shyly, his heart fucking stops. He's been with so many beautiful people, but nothing has made him feel whatever this is. 'Hey there!' you introduce yourself, and he can't stop staring at your lips as they move, you have a pretty red color adorning them, he tries to focus but his brain is short circuiting. 'Satoru...' he says, taking your much smaller hand in his own, staring at you behind Gucci shades. He never lets dates call him that, he prefers Gojo of course, but when you repeat 'Satoru' in that sexy voice, he's ended.

Escort! Satoru forgets what time even is, while you pour over some details of your life with him, he's never been more interested actually in how you played the flute. Tell him it all. That you like Pokemon- Digimon is better but- close enough, tell him about your collection. He can't get enough, you all spend so much time talking the sun is starting to set. 'Oh no, we should go! I'm keeping you-' Satoru lowers those shades, his bright blue eyes drinking you in, making you falter as they trail across your body ever so slowly, making you heat up, remembering his profession. 'you're not keeping me, but one question, sweets' he leans forward, so close now, brushing back a lock of your hair. 'why would you go to an escort agency, is it just for the date? or more?'

Escort! Satoru loves watching the blush dance on your skin, the glittering of your eyes when he pulls back, thumb brushing your heated cheek just so, feeling it's warmth. 'It's just for the date, I read your reviews, they're insane...' he grins now, brushing back silvery locks. 'read which reviews?' you heat up further, fiddling with your fingers just a bit. 'If it went that way, it'd be the first time in years for me' Satoru blinks in shock. 'how?' You sigh, sipping the rest of your drink down through your straw. 'work plus being a homebody nerd, well... I never meet people or have time' ah, Satoru could make you cum so hard you wouldn't be able to form words, but he takes a sip of his own drink, saying casually- 'and you never... want to?'

Escort! Satoru thinks you're so cute when your teeth catch your lower lip, and your lashes flutter. 'of course but that's not why I hired you, I really do need a perfect date, though... your looks may have swayed me' he chuckles a bit now. 'So shallow!' you scoff, as the two of you get ready to leave. 'Do you have a suit or do you need me to buy one?' Gojo smirks at you. 'I have so many suits, and tuxedos, don't worry' 'ah you come prepared I see' he hums just a bit, walking you to your car, far too close when he leans over you just a bit, inhaling the sweet scent of you. 'I'm prepared for whatever you need, sweets, anything at all' at his connotation he watches you get more flustered, giggling a bit, feeling so stupid next to a guy like this, but he just finds you the cutest thing he's ever seen.

Escort! Satoru can't take how much you're sinking into his mind the passing days, the charity ball is in a week, but the two of you constantly text for 'practice' but he becomes more and more enamored, you're smart, sweet, and oh so fucking pretty. When you send him a selfie before he goes on a date with a client, he can hardly take it, you're in your business suit, nothing sexy- but it drives him to distraction, your pretty lips he can picture around him. Satoru can hardly focus when he's supposed to be pleasing this girl, his fingers usually so sure aren't hitting her spots, because now he can only think of you.

Escort! Satoru cannot have a bad review, oh no, he decides to excuse himself from the pretty girl on her bed, going to the bathroom to stare at this picture of you. beautiful, can I see more? when you read that you nervously shut the door to your sky rise office, unbuttoning just a bit of your blouse, tummy clenching when he hearts the message, you know you shouldn't get so excited, you're paying him after all. He's likely with a woman constantly, you see the sheer amount of reviews, but you can't help yourself, you find him entirely too charming, it's easy to forget this is just for business. For every salacious review, there were others- sweet, funny, made me feel pretty- and that's what really drew you in.

Escort! Satoru after he recieves that sexy little picture, instead of going into the room with the eager girl waiting, is instead stroking his long, pretty cock, head falling back against the door, while you nervously button your blouse back up, imagination going insane. You weren't against sleeping with someone casually, but for money would it mean... he didn't want to? The thought eats at you while Satoru's dripping precum over his phone, right on that picture, whispering your name ever so softly, forgetting where he was and shit, who he was, he can practically see those nipples under your blouse, dying to know what they taste like.

Escort! Satoru may have had sex before with the client surely, he loves a beautiful woman, before he met you. But now you're constantly on his mind. Even with his cock so hard and ready, when he's back to kissing on her and playing with her, he can't do more, frustrating him to no end. He has her squirting down his hand with the way his practiced fingers know how to hit every woman's spot, she's dripping down to his wrists, even. When he finishes, she looks up at him, all fucked out, trying to kiss him, but that's Satoru's biggest rule, never, ever kiss on the lips. He turns his head. 'sorry sweetheart I don't do that'

Escort! Satoru takes his extra money, he made bank tonight, but the entire time he had his fingers curling inside a slick, eager hole, he was picturing them deep inside you, watching as you cum for him. You'd probably sound and look so pretty, wouldn't you? As you're shooting him a good night text- who even has ever sent him one? - you're back on his mind, still aching from earlier. Turning down blowjobs is not something Escort Satoru does, but he did, and now he's throbbing when he rubs himself over his boxers, whimpering just a bit, pulling the picture back out and working his hand up and down his shaft, as it's aching to fill you

Escort! Satoru has a notification from one of his regulars pop up on the phone, right above that picture he can't stop staring at, while his cock is sticky from his spit and precum, loud in his opulent bedroom, the sound of it lewd along with his heavy, husky breaths. He's picturing just what you'd look like on your knees, with those innocent eyes, maybe he'd tear that business suit off your body, and paint every pretty inch of it with his ropes of cum, until you were just covered in white. The thought alone makes him decline the request, shutting his eyes and picturing just that as his spurts of white cum pour down his hand.

Escort! Satoru whimpers when he touches his sensitive tip, murmuring your name, trying to come down. He finds himself cleaning himself up and staring at the mirror, wondering just what the fuck you've done to him already. Surely it's... something new or different, it can't be more right? He hovers over choosing the date, or messaging you good night, and finds himself texting you with a dumb little 🥺, smiling like a lovesick fool when you send this to him-'can't wait for our 'date' it'll be fun! 😍- and Satoru's getting hard again from a fucking emoji.

this is just gonna be FUN and cute- maybe four parts or so in this style, and they'll be pretty quick coming out. Drop a comment if you want a tag on our lil Escort babyy

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