#if you get the references I kiss you I kiss you I kiss you I kill-

[sturniqlo]

I Can't Do It Alone- C.S

summary: while mom!y/n stays home with their littles all day, chris doesn't see how tired she is and he puts more pressure on her. BLURB

cw: cursing, ANGST; arguing, crying, exhaustion, FLUFF; kissing, comforting, resolved angst

an: not apart of my positive series | lowkey hate this | lowercase intended

masterlist | join my taglist

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"daddy!" the littlest child, leslie, runs to the front door when she hears the door opening. "hey, les! how's my little girl?" chris smiles and locks the door behind him before kneeling down to pick up his daughter. "so so happy that you are home!" she squeals, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly. "yeah, i'm happy to be home too." he kisses her cheek.

"where are your siblings?" he refers to his five year old set of twins and his ten month old baby. "uhm- landon is watching a movie, lia is playing in our playroom and layla is sleeping." she says as chris walks them, and steps over some toys, towards the kitchen where he hears y/n shuffling around. "why don't you go get lia while i say hi to mommy." he puts her back on the floor.

"okay!" she nods, her pigtails swaying in the process. "lia! daddy is home!" the three year old goes up the stairs. chris enters the kitchen and sees his y/n preparing the twins' lunch for tomorrow. "hey, baby." he wraps his arms around her waist from behind. "oh, hey you're home." she turns her head and smiles softly at him. a tiredness in her eyes that chris doesn't seem to notice. "how was your day today?" she asks, going back to making the lunches.

"tiring," y/n almost a scoffs. "i had three meetings for future drops and filmed a video with nick and matt." he kisses her neck. "oh, well, i'm glad you're home now." she closes up the small containers. "hey, is it okay if-" she gets cut off by she yelling of leslie. "mom! lia won't give me the princess pjs!" she stomps into the kitchen. "these are mine!" lia comes in behind her, wearing the pink princess pajamas.

"leslie, you have the same exact ones in your closet." y/n says, opening the fridges and putting the lunches away. "no i don't! mine are dirty!" her lip quivers. "you didn't do the laundry today?" chris says, leaning against the island counter. "no, i had to go grocery shopping, clean the kitchen, our bathrooms, and i just washed everyone's bed sheets." she says, the girls still arguing.

"i'm sure you still had some extra time to do a load or two." he adds on. "no, chris. i had to take care of layla, she's still sick." she sighs, cleaning up a spill of juice from earlier. "hey, mom. can i stay up late and watch toy story 2?" landon comes in. "no landon, you have preschool tomorrow." y/n says for the third time today, he had asked her that earlier. "dad?" landon looks to chris. "of course you can, bud." he ruffles the boys' hair. "you're the best! see mom, dad lets me."

"chris, he has to wake up early tomorrow, he can't stay up late. it's almost time for bed." she looks at chris. "c'mon, just for today." y/n shakes her head. "no. kids, go brush your teeth." chris rolls his eyes at her stubbornness. "why are you being so strict?" he asks. "im not." she practically laughs. "just let landon stay up, tomorrow is friday anyway."

"exactly, he can stay up late tomorrow." she leaves the kitchen and chris follows. she walks into laylas bedroom and checks in on her. she had gotten sick two days ago. "oh my gosh!" chris whispers. "what?" she says. "i forgot to get the medicine for her yesterday." y/n shakes her head. "it's okay, i bought it today." y/n grabs a tissue from the changing table and cleans the snot from layla. "i'm sorry." he says. "it's okay, it happened already." she throws the tissue away and exits the room.

"did i do something? why are you mad." chris continues to follow her back downstairs. "stop it, chris!" she abruptly stops and turns to face him. chris stands there in shock at her sudden outburst. "just stop! i've had the most tiring days- weeks of my life! and you're here saying that you've had a tiring day all because of three meetings and filming video?"

before chris could say anything back, one of the kids upstairs called for y/n. "mom! she spit on me!" y/n sighed and turned back around going back up the stairs to resolve whatever was going on. chris decided to go back into the kitchen and look for the dinner y/n had mentioned earlier.

chris ate dinner alone while y/n was upstairs putting the kids to sleep. he cleaned his used dishes before going upstairs to his bedroom. "wanna tell me what that was all about?" he said when he saw y/n putting on the bedsheets she had washed. "lia had spat on landon." she said. chris shook his head. "not that, i'm talking about what you had said earlier." he walked closer and picked up a pillow along with a clean pillow cover.

"i don't want to talk about it." she mumbled, going back to putting on the bedsheet. "why not, there's clearly something bothering you." he pushes on. "you want to know what's bothering me chris?" she pauses. "i feel like i'm raising these kids all by myself. you're never home! you leave before the twins wake up for school, and you don't return until they're going to bed! on the weekends it's the same!"

"i'm working, you know that." chris says sternly. "i understand that, chris. but does it hurt to take at least one day off? just one day to spend time with them? just one weekend?" she runs a hand though her hair, frustrated. "do you not understand that i'm working my ass off for us! for our kids! for their futures!"

"i know that chris, but you have the privilege to choose to work from home- to stay home and you don't use it!" chris rolls his eyes. "you have the most easiest job in the world, you just watch the kids play, feed them and change laylas diapers!" he raises his voice.

"you're kidding right?!" she scoffs. "you think taking care of four kids alone is easy? i make them breakfast, i take the twins to school, i have to buckle all four of them in the car even with two of them are crying, i have to give a toddler and a baby my attention at the same time, i teach les basic things, i have to clean the whole house, i do the laundry, i cook, i take the trash out, i change diapers, i pick the twins up from school, i help the twins with their homework, i shower all four, i get them ready for bed, i break up arguments, i deal with their tantrums. im tired chris. i have no time for myself."

"i love those kids with all of my heart, but you promised me, chris. you promised me that we would raise them together! it seems like i'm raising them all by myself. and i understand that you're providing financially for us- for them, but i need your help in a non-financial way." she feels tears racing down her face. she didn't even know she was crying.

"y/n.." chris had never realized she was feeling like this. he felt bad, he hated that he never saw this. she was right, he was always there, but never there. he doesn't remember the last time he actually sat down with his children and played with them. "i- i don't know if you actually care about what i just said, but ive kept it in for so long i thought i'd let you know how i feel." with that, she turns around and walks to their bathroom and shuts the door.

chris sighs and runs a hand through his hair, taking it all in. "mom!" he hears one of his kids yell for their mom. without hesitation, he sits up and goes to who was yelling. "layla? you okay?" he sees that her door was the only one cracked open. "daddy?" she whispers. "it's me, why're you crying, sweetheart?" he takes a seat on her small bed when he sees her cheeks are damp with tears. "i- why are you and mommy yelling at each other?"

chris' heart breaks when he hears that his daughter heard them arguing. "we just- we had a little argument- just like you and your siblings have sometimes. but, everything is okay. i promise." the little girl smiles at the reassurance. "oh, okay."

"would you like me to take you and your brother to school tomorrow?" he says after he had been laying with her for sometime. "really?" she gasps. "of course!" he says. "will we pass for donuts? mommy always takes us every friday to get donuts for breakfast." she plays with the hem of his shirt. "we can, does mommy get a donut for herself?" she nods. "mhm, she likes the strawberry sprinkles, she told us you bought one for her on her birthday a long time ago." chris laughs at the exaggeration. "wasn't that long ago, just seven years ago."

chris recalls the time when they had just started dating, it was her birthday and he bought her a strawberry frosted donut with sprinkles and stuck a candle on it. "that's so far ago." she giggles.

he had stayed with her until she fell back asleep again. quietly, he exited the room and gently shut the door behind him. chris headed back to his bedroom where the soft glow of the lamp lit up the room. "babe, are you sleeping?" he says, closing the door and walks over to the bed where y/n is currently laying down. "no." she says and sits up on her shoulder. her hair a bit damp, chris knew she never liked to fully dry her hair with the blow dryer. "can we talk? i don't want to argue, i hate arguing." he tosses his shoes off and situates himself next to her.

"okay." she grabs her glasses off of the side table since she doesn't have her contacts in. they sit in silence for a bit until chris decides to talk first. "'m sorry you've been feeling this way. and- and i cant believe i didn't take notice. i mean everything was right in front of me. i'm never home, you're always alone with the kids, you're constantly tired. i- i'm so sorry, babe. i never meant to make you feel like this- to put you through this."

"it's- it's okay chris. i know you've been so busy with the new drop and everything. but, i just want to let you now that i'm not asking you to drop everything and stay home with us forever, just asking you to take a few days off during the week. i miss you, the kids miss you." chris wraps his arm around y/n and pulls her into his chest.

"'m sorry, 'm so sorry. i'll stay home until wednesday, when i have to film, how's that sound, hm?" he presses a kiss to her forehead. "really?" she looks up at him. "of course, anything for you." he says and lays them both down. "chris!" she squeals.

"let me love on my wife!" he kisses her neck up to her lips. "how about i take you out on saturday night? we take the kids to matt and nicks house. and we go to a nice restaurant and come back here for the night?" he pecks her lips. "i would love that." she hums, kissing him back. they lie together on the bed for a while until y/n speaks up.

"as much as i love being like this, you know i hate outside clothes on the bed." she tugs on his shirt. "i knew i couldn't get away with it." he sighs and kisses her lips before getting up. "i'll be in the shower, choose a movie for when i get out."

[euthymiya]

[ YOU SAY I’M STRONG (BUT YOU MAKE ME FEEL WEAK) — FT. KINICH ]

SYNOPSIS: kinich can’t quite put his finger on it, but he doesn’t like your new friend. you seem to put two and two together a little better than he does

WORD COUNT: 2.6k words — short n’ sweet like sabrina

INCLUDES: female reader ; mature 18+ content ; jealous/insecure kinich ; spoilers for his character stories ; references to his father’s abuse, gambling, and alcoholism and his mother’s departure ; unnecessary slander of a poor npc who did nothing wrong in canon lolll ; reader sits on his lap ; making out ; dry humping ; alludes to sex afterwards ; not proof read

Kinich knows he’s strong.

He’s gifted. Athleticism comes easily to him, he’s certainly skilled when it comes to wielding his vision, his claymore takes a good deal of talent to swing, and he’s never quite had trouble excelling in combat.

You say he’s strong, too—but not for the same reasons.

You’ve been through so much, you like to whisper.

You grew up so fast.

You’ve come so far.

For some reason, you like to measure strength differently. Kinich doesn’t always understand it—he doesn’t think he’s strong just for surviving the way you like to say. He thinks he’s resourceful, maybe. Perhaps even clever or quick-witted. Strong has never been something that’s come to mind when he thinks of the things he’s grown up around.

He was never strong enough to protect his mother. He couldn’t have saved his father if he’d tried. He never even stood up to the man when his father was alive—his only skill then was running.

Strength found him as he got older. When his weakness was tiresome and burdened him enough that he needed to find his way in this world, Kinich found strength.

He’s good at running. Picking up something as heavy as a great sword isn’t too hard for him. Learning how to dodge and throw a punch is easy enough. Dendro isn’t too complicated to master with enough practice.

Kinich is strong. He knows that, but today, he feels weak.

“Your eyes cross when you think too hard,” you murmur. He breaks from his thoughts at the sound of your voice, relaxing only slightly when that breathy giggle of yours tickles over the shell of his ear as you kiss his cheek and settle beside him. “Here, they’re fresh.”

Kinich likes quenepa berries. They’re easy to grow and rewarding to taste. They were his mother’s best crop, in fact. He lets his lips part as you push a few between his lips and grin.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

Something is nagging in his mind still. Something that whispers one unsatisfactory word over and over and over in his head.

Weak. Weak. Weak. You’re weak. Incredibly weak. Pathetic and weak. You’ve always been weak.

You seem to notice it too— “You’re still thinking,” you point out gently.

Tell me about it, is what you mean. Talk to me.

“I’m not sure if it’s possible for someone to ever stop thinking,” he replies smartly. “Well…I guess unless that someone is you.”

“Hey,” you huff, snatching away your bowl from him as he reaches for a few more berries. He’s smug—the deftness of his fingers makes for an easy grab at a good handful before you can properly create distance between him and your bowl. “Take that back. Now!”

“It’s a bit empty up here sometimes, don’t you think?” He pokes at your forehead, chuckling at the curl of dissatisfaction on your lips.

“Well, it’s better than having someone like you think too hard. That’s a bit dangerous,” you grumble.

He laughs. Momentarily, the voices quiet. “My quick thinking has helped out a good once or twice,” he points out, popping a few more berries into his mouth.

Sweet. Juicy like he remembers. He hasn’t had berries quite like these since his mother’s departure.

“Alright,” you roll your eyes half-heartedly, “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.” He’s silent at that—you’re right. He doesn’t want to talk about it. But perhaps more importantly, he doesn’t quite know how to. “You know you can tell me anything, though. Right?”

Kinich doesn’t know exactly when this started. He started with a good day. Exceptional, even. Somehow, it got lost along the way.

First, you woke him up with a kiss—(really, he was awake already, but sometimes he likes to pretend to be asleep so your lips do the honors of breaking him from his slumber. A minor inconvenience of laying perfectly still for the hefty reward of your lips). Later, he landed a commission with a decent profit of mora. It went by fast enough that he could swing back home to grab you for lunch.

And that’s when it starts to all go downhill.

“Of course I do,” he answers instantly.

“Then tell me,” you pout.

I don’t know how, he wants to say. Instead, he settles with: “You know him. The guy we ran into.”

It comes out a tad bit grumpy against his will. He doesn’t completely understand what it is that makes him feel so unsettled—Kinich knows that in a fight, that man is practically a house of cards if he is the wind. And he’s strong; he knows that as much as he knows you do, too.

He still can’t shake the feeling of being so weak.

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “yes, he moved from Toyac Springs! He’s very nice, I like to help him find his way around here sometimes.”

“He gave you a hug,” Kinich points out blandly.

“He did,” you nod slowly, “he’s friendly, you know?”

“Friendly.” He tests the word on his tongue. He doesn’t like how it tastes. Like a bitter, unripe quenepa berry that’s been harvested too early.

His father tended to do that. Impatient and unyielding to reason is how he remembers his father to be, snatching berries from the vines against his mother’s insistence before spitting them out with an angry grunt.

Absolutely worthless, he’d remember hearing an angry voice spit. You can’t even grow a few decent berries.

They’re just not ready yet, his mother’s voice would waver.

Weak, he remembers feeling. Unable to stand up to his father. Unable to take care of his mother.

Oddly, it’s how he feels with you right now.

“His name is Hakau,” you say carefully, “and we’re friendly sometimes. It’s nothing like that, though.”

“Like what?”

“Kinich,” you sigh, “is everything okay?”

Something in your voice tells him you know everything is definitely not okay. But you want to hear it from him. You want the words from his mouth directly.

He doesn’t know how to give that to you. He doesn’t even know half of what he’s feeling—just that there’s a heavyweight in his throat that tastes and feels like lead when he swallows.

“Everything is fine,” he mumbles. “I just haven’t ever seen him, that’s all. I was curious.”

“And…that’s it?”

“I suppose so.”

“I don’t…” you pause, biting your lip as you study him for a moment before shifting to crawl on his lap, straddling his hips before your hands cup his cheeks. “I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”

“I don’t know what to tell,” he finally admits.

“You don’t like Hakau?” You ask gently.

“He talks a bit much,” he shrugs. “And he laughs a lot.”

“He’s a bit energetic,” you agree, smiling a little at his confession. “I guess he’s not for everyone.”

“But he is for you?” He raises an eyebrow.

Your face softens as you lean in and press a small kiss to his nose as you whisper, “I think you’re for me. Does that count?”

“You’ve never mentioned him,” he adds, refusing to meet your eyes.

“He’s not really the most important development in my life,” you chuckle, “I only see him here and there.”

Kinich is strong. Physically, he knows that. When it comes to fighting a war and hunting a saurian, he’s adept. Beyond that, all he knows to do is stand on the side and watch people he loves exit his life. Because he’s never enough.

Weak. It’s what he feels when someone like Hakau is able to smile brightly and pull you into a hug right before his eyes. When was the last time he hugged you under witnessing eyes?

Never, he thinks. He touches you in the privacy of your home where no one is there to witness the fact that he loves you.

Weak. It’s what he realizes he is when your eyes are bright and excited to see a man whose expression mirrors the same show of joy. When was the last time his face expressed that much affection for you?

He can only assume there hasn’t been a moment—not when his cold expression and distant eyes have been something he’s heard about time and time again.

Kinich is too weak at building love. He doesn’t know how to be a son who’s enough to be better for, to give up gambling and a few sips of alcohol. He doesn’t know how to be a son who’s worth staying for, who’s the reason every obstacle is worth fighting through—even when it comes in the form of a drunken slap or a slurred yell.

He doesn’t know how to be a man worthy of your love, either. Not one who can come and greet you with something as simple as a hug. Not one who can display his affection on his face from nothing but a bright grin alone.

He’s too weak for that. His heart is a muscle he’s never strengthened. His limbs are too frail to support carrying your heart in his hands, too—he’s never been worthy of your affections.

At least, that’s what his mind has always told him. He knows you’d disagree, but that’s only because your eye is trained to see only the good. You don’t look at him to search for the reasons you shouldn’t stay.

Maybe Hakau could easily be a reason you should leave, though.

“He hugged you pretty tightly,” he grumbles one last time. It’s a bit petty—you’re sweet enough that you giggle and let it slide.

“I think I see the problem,” your grin widens, “I think you’re just a bit jealous, is that it?”

“Jealous of what? His awful haircut?” He rolls his eyes.

Yes, he thinks deep down. Yes, he’s jealous. He’s jealous of the way joy comes easy to Hakau and the way it seems to roll off of him in waves at the sight of you. How easy it must be for him to love you and love you strongly. Not some weak, sorry excuse of affection that Kinich offers you loosely gripped in his inadequate fist.

You’re kind, though. Patient and gentle as your hands cradle his cheeks and force him to meet your gaze.

“There are reasons for everything, you know,” you murmur.

“You’re saying there’s a reason his hair is so ridiculous?” He asks incredulously.

You laugh, airy and bright as you roll your eyes. “No, silly. There’s a reason why I love you and don’t love him.”

“Like what?” He asks, feigning a casual tone. Please tell me, he thinks desperately.

“Like when you pretend to sleep so I kiss you awake,” you tease, kissing his jaw.

He pauses. “How did you—”

“Or when you spend your earnings after a long commission to take me out to lunch.”

“Anyone could do that—”

“Or when you force Ajaw to fly me up a mountain because I’m too scared to climb.”

“Technically Ajaw does the work there—”

“Or when you share your pillow with me when I come hog it.”

He cracks a small smile at that, letting out a short laugh as he mumbles, “You do hog my pillow a lot.”

“I can’t list all the reasons I love you,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth, “but I can’t come up with a single reason not to love you. I think that’s plenty.”

Kinich is strong. He’s able to support your weight when you lean into him more, settling most of your body onto his lap as you kiss him deeply. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you closer as he groans into your mouth.

He loves you when you kiss him, and he loves you when he can feel your body nestled against his. It’s a strong, palpable feeling he can’t deny—and he’s starting to think you feel it from him when you smile into his lips as his hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

“I could tell you a couple of great reasons you wouldn’t love that weird guy.”

“His name is—”

“He talks too much. He laughs annoying. And his hair is weird.”

You giggle, burying your head into neck as you huff, “Those are all shallow reasons.”

“Okay,” he hums thoughtfully, “He doesn’t know you like I do.”

His hips roll up, and your breath catches in your throat. There’s a noticeable, sizable bulge in his pants that you can feel press against your core. He grins when you falter over him, strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you in place as he presses his own kisses to your jaw while you shiver.

“If you know me so well,” you say petulantly, “You know I hate when you tease.”

“But I actually know you better than that,” he chuckles lowly, “I know you fall apart nicer when you’re pushed around a bit, don’t you?”

His lips are back on yours, mouth warm and hungry as his tongue invades your space. It’s a brief battle—he wins and explores the parts of you he already has memorized by heart. You whine against him, damp and aching between your legs as a familiar tension builds up.

Your hips roll over his clothed cock, your cunt dragging along the erection with enough pressure that both of you pause for a moment and shiver. It feels good—it’s not enough to qualify as what you need from him, but it’s never not good with Kinich. You feel the pressure of his hard-on rubbing against your clit, and your hips roll in sync to build the light tingles of pleasure as your mouths kiss each other in a sloppy, messy exchange.

“I hate your friend,” he declares breathlessly.

“Don’t be jealous,” you tease, giving your hips a languid thrust to press harder against his cock. He groans, head falling to your shoulder as his hands grab your hips and guide your to rub against him the way he wants.

His way. He’s strong enough that you can’t fight against the pace he sets for you—not that you want to, anyway.

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbles in between moans, “I just don’t like the way he looks at you. He looks stupid.”

“I didn’t notice,” you say breathlessly, “I was too busy looking at you.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” He snorts.

You grind down against his cock once. Twice. The third time, he meets your movements, and both of you still, tense for a moment as the coil snaps and your walls flutter around nothing while his tip leaks with ropes of thick, warm cum that spoil his pants.

“F-fuck,” you whine, “Kinich.”

“So…so perfect,” he grunts, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss.

It’s needy—the way the both of you move desperately to feel the friction just a tiny bit longer to ride out the waves of your orgasms. You can feel the twitch of his cock through his pants as it dampens from the mess of cum, and he can feel the quiver of your cunt as he spams around nothing.

It’s not enough, but somehow it’s more than perfect, too. Because he’s him. Because it’s you.

“You’re supposed to fuck me properly when you’re feeling possessive,” you mumble against his chest.

He lets out an amused breath as he answers, “Yeah? Was that your plan all along?”

Kinich is strong. He flips you over easily, hovering over you as he nips at your pulse point. He can feel the erratic pace of it through the skin, earning a smug grin that his lips press into your neck.

You love him pretty strongly, he concludes—poor Hakau always stood the weakest chance.

Hakau is a random npc in the scions of the canopy im sorry for all this drama brother. You seem like a good guy I just needed someone to be the loser here for the sake of plot

[gladiatorcunt]

- A ROTTEN TREE BEARS ROTTEN FRUIT | I.

god loves you, but not enough to save you

cw: kinktober prompt (whipping/flogging), blasphemy, inaccurate religious practices, lyrical sadomasochism (more so sadism on his part), erotic religious imagery and references, this dynamic is so weird, implied (as in in my mind) bi reader and charlie, plus sized reader, reader’s chest referred to as ‘breasts’ & ‘tits’ and their crotch referred to as a ‘hole’ but they do have a seperate one other than their ass, pregnancy fantasy, vomit mention, don’t know shit about the show fuck you ryan, blood kink, interchangeable ‘charlie’ & ‘mayhew’ based on pov

do not translate, repost, or feed this work to ai |

kinktober 2024

“Shh, let me clean you up, Father.” You smile, so softly, he could snap your neck if he squeezed hard enough.

You run your nails over his back, trimmed to an appropriate length. Father Mayhew sighs the way Adam might’ve when Eve’s walls clenched around him, God never being more important than this bliss. You’re so devoted, so devout in your worship but he’s beginning to think that you cry out to a different God than he does. If you even believe in an invisible one anymore when you have a savior in the flesh.

“Thank you, dear. That’d be great.” The pulls are pulled from his lips like rotund wooden beads, as if he has no choice but to endure the stretch as they exit his body one by one.

You shuffle off the bed and kneel behind him, stroking your fingertips down his back like he’s a marble statue you just can’t help but reach out and touch. The opposite of Delilah cutting Samson’s hair, you only want to imbue him with your pure love from the inside out. Spooning milk and honey over the tender welts.

His eyelids crinkle as you kiss the nape of his neck, blotting your lips with rouge. There is no inch of his back left without, and when you arrive at the bigger gashes you lavish the cut with your tongue. Drinking his life away and cleaning him up like a good little whore, servicing the man becomes the only thing of importance to you. You dip the tip of your tongue in the recess of the deeper wounds, and caress his tensing abs from behind when he grits his teeth and traps a curse behind them. You only kitten lick him, but often he wishes you would get real dirty with it, caressing your tongue over his muscles in broad and messy swipes.

His scars from previous lashings glint in the low light of the candles surrounding you. You give them their just desserts of course, grateful pecks of attention and acknowledgement. Soothing his pain, that is the only excuse you have to encroach on the verge of breaking your vows. Father Mayhew gives you a purpose and stops your bleating with a heavy hand if you forget your place. Stern hand to raw and stinging flesh.

Sometimes there is no pillow when you kneel behind him.

The next step is that you turn around and face the wall after picking up the cattail whip off the bed and returning it to its rightful owner. You’ve already discarded your habit, no tunic, coif, or veil left on your person. They’re folded neatly beside you, only your rosary nestled in the embrace of your heaving breasts. Your peaks harden in the stuffy humid air, all the oxygen in the world confined to this small room.

He saddles up behind you, his sweaty chest so close to the flesh and contours of your back. Father Charlie breathes you in, taking whiffs of your debauched scent in between silent prayers. He never allows himself to be as forward as you are, his thread of control over his desire has not snapped yet. There are boundaries he can push, but lines he can never cross.

“Good lamb, God recognizes your penance and forgives your soul.” He whispers, dragging the strips of leather down your back until goosebumps rise to the surface.

When you least expect it, he strikes. You muffle a shout into the wall and Father Charlie’s cock jumps under his towel. Briefly he imagines slamming into your tempting body dry, with no preparation, making you sure you feel as much pain as possible. The way you’d wince with every step around the church, the begging in your puppy dog eyes when you’d take communion. How he could hold it above your head like a bone in the shape of a fractured cross, dangling just out of reach of your gorgeous mouth.

The devil gives him dreams of fucking your throat until you’re vomiting and hoarse.

Every droplet of bed peeking out from the cracks of your skin to say hello nourishes him. He shushes you when you’re unable to hold back your sounds, cooing when he notices you humping the air after the fifteenth hit. You just can’t help yourself, nerdy by nature and nurture.

You start soaking the pillow beneath you, imagining what he must look like. A man and his broad hulking body curling around you as he hurts you. Your hole suddenly feels so empty, you have a night of riding your pillow ahead of you, you just want to be good for him in all the ways you’re supposed to be.

As you let a demon of sex control your body, he spies a flash of a white lacy thong nestled between your plump ass cheeks. He knows that if you had also worn a towel, he would’ve hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it off. You don’t get to hide any part of yourself from your Father. And he knows he will have to give himself another lashing for those thoughts alone. Even the secret wedding he plans as he strokes his angry red cock, always edging himself, he’s afraid of what would happen if he lets go. How loud the iron gates would be when they creak open. Like the way he wants to spread your ass open and toy with the hidden puckered hole.

His words are in his actions, reopening your old wounds and bringing the warm leather across your back one last time, he hopes your blood soaks through the material. Staining it, the way you have already stained his heart. Father Charlie grins despite himself when you slump against the wall, sliding his bible-roughened hands over your love handles and sticks his pecs to your shoulders.

“You did lovely, today. The Lord thanks you, and I’m so proud of you, you know that?” His thick fingers brush along the bottoms of your tits, never going higher.

He wants to slap them, wrap the beads of your rosary around them until the flesh bulges, painting your nipples in a mix of both of your blood. Marking your souls irreversibly. Marriage of the spirit, a ritualistic wedding in the eyes of the beholder. You shiver like a mouse in front of a snake, and beads of precum fall from his cockhead.

Did Saint Teresa have these feelings when she had the vision of an angel piercing her heart with their golden spear? Did Saint Sebastian when he was pierced by those arrows under the order of the Emperor? Did David when he wrenched Goliath’s head back by his hair and bested him into humiliation? Did it compare to the covenant he formed with Jonathan?

He kisses your glittering scars in thanks and washes your blood away with his lips and tongue too. But unlike any other day in which you’ve done this, he stands up with a grunt and pulls you up with him. Father Mayhew falls backwards onto his bed and so you follow dutifully, and because the hold he has on your wrist is strong to the point of bruising. You lay your head over his heart and pant into his skin as he teases your plush thigh, tracing crosses into the chubby expanse of skin.

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” He cajoles, walking on that burning tightrope with you.

He wonders if your cunt would be just as chubby, if you’ve ever thought about humping the organ bench, riper than the forbidden fruit, and he mentally catalogs an extra long session of repentance. To be fresh and clean again. Father Charlie will go through his sermons with his lighthearted tone and charming personality, desperate to hide that he’s thinking of plunging his tongue in your asshole. Sipping and slurping up your musk like it’s the only holy water he needs to live. Or entice you into eating his ass, you would love being able to serve him properly, no doubt.

To nourish you with his fragments, his vertebrae and viscera. The body and the blood. The teeth and the testicles.

He’ll sit in quiet contemplation in front of the pulpit, pouring wine over your body in his mind. Following the red trail with his tongue as it trickles down the valley of your chest and dips in and out the folds of your belly. He’ll leisurely open his mouth on a silent moan at the top of your mound, the hairs like yellowing blades of glades against his philtrum, in a perfect paradise there’d be blood there too. His own personal, pervertedly literal, red sea.

You’d look so beautiful, swollen and fat with a child growing in your womb. A shame that can never happen, but a blessing that no heretic of a man could snatch you up and take you away from him. Your flock is here, and the heavy crook of his staff is all you need to guide you back home when you go astray. Trapped in his thighs, molded by his hands, punctured into line with his cock.

[meloyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they had a crush on the Reader/Yuu?

All are meant to be interpreted as romantic except for Ortho, who is a wingman for his brother in his part. Some characters might be a bit OOC. Reader is GN but will be referred to as pretty/beautiful. Minor TW for Rollo having yandere tendencies.

If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave an ask or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants :) Everything is under the cut

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts - 

Not the best person to have liking you. 

He’s not mean or anything he just... Has no idea what to do with himself at any time. 

And it’s very obvious. 

He thinks that if he’s very, very specific about you following the rules, you’ll praise him and thus that’ll mean you’ll like him. 

He’s… Trying his best. 

“Off With Your Head!” You felt the metal clamp around your neck as you heard the echo of the words. Turning around, you saw the small redhead with his hands on his hips, face already flushing. He grabbed the drink you were holding, the surface of the coffee moving as he pulled away. “On a Tuesday, one can only drink lemon tea past 3:14 in the afternoon!” He huffed, before using his free hand to pull you away. “If you don’t know the rules, I’ll just have to teach them to you. Come on, there’s some tea in the garden. I have a book of rules I could read to you.” 

Trey Clover - 

He’s housewife material, he’ll bake for you 

“Any boy can be babygirl but it takes a man to be a single  mother” vibes 

I never know what to say to him he’s just a normal person who likes cooking 

On a complete side note if you ever go to NYC, go to Alice’s Tea Cup. It’s this tea house that’s kind of close to Broadway, at least last time I went pre-COVID, and it’s so good. I have the recipe book from there and the pumpkin scones are the best. 

You walked into the Hearslabyul kitchen, smiling at the smell of apple pie. Trey was baking, and the dish had just come out of the oven. He smiled, but then slapped your hand away when you tried to grab it. “Not yet, it needs to cool first. If you really want something to eat, we have leftover blueberry scones in the fridge.” He said, looking away to get the serving plate. You touched it anyway, pulling back as you burned yourself. He looked at you and sighed, taking you by the arm to get an ice cube on it. “Burnt hand teaches best, I suppose... It shouldn’t be that bad of a burn. If it gets any worse, I’ll  put some cream on it...” He said, before kissing the burn. “And a get-well-soon kiss, of course.” 

Cater Diamond - 

He’s a silly boy, but also an angsty one 

If he genuinely likes you, he’d probably try really, really hard to be the “perfect guy” 

And also to try to hide how into you he is because he’s scared you’ll leave him 

Those moments when his guard drops are probably the sweetest, though 

“Ah, that was fun! Well, Cay-cay’s all yours for the rest of the day. What do you wanna do now?” Cater said, having just turned off his livestream. You were behind his phone smiling at him. You were going to recommend getting a drink at the Monstro lounge, but saw how tired he was. He smiled at you when you asked to just hang out with him at home. “You do, huh? Well, there’s a new movie we could watch.” When you raised an eyebrow, asking if it was for Magicam, he just chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. A remake of an old classic. I want to watch it with you. I’m sure that you’d be able to make anything good, just by being there.” 

Ace Trapolla & Deuce Spade- 

They’re together because I feel like you can’t make one fall for you without the other. It’s a ‘buy one get one free’ deal. 

Ace would be a nightmare to have in love with you. 

He’d try his best to flirt, but mainly through really bad dirty jokes and pickup lines. 

Or, by inserting himself into your life as much as possible in an attempt to force himself into a place of importance for you 

Duece, on the other hand, would be an angel. 

He attempts to be an old-fashioned gentleman, like holding open doors and getting you flowers. 

Are those roses from Heartslabyul’s garden? Maybe. Just don’t snitch on him to Riddle. 

You weren't entirely sure how you got yourself into hiding in a cabinet with Ace and Duece, but here you were, avoiding the Riddle currently screaming his head off about how someone had stolen the roses currently in your arms. You had a hand over Duece’s mouth as he muttered apologies, trying to get him to shut up, before Ace leaned in and whispered “Hey, Prefect?” You gave him a look, to which he said, “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see!” He asked, voice rising in volume as he tried not to laugh, to which Duece slapped him on the arm and cried, “Don’t be so loud! You’re going to get us caught!” Ace only laughed harder, until the door to the cabinet opened. You took a dash out of there with your roses, the two bumbling baffoons behind you, the yelling housewarden already collaring them. 

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

He’s a fun man 

Well, not really, but his attempts are very fun for Ruggie. 

He’ll just drag you away and force you to cuddle with him. 

You’ll probably end up cutting class, but do you really care when it’s with the clingy lion man? 

Throwing money at you with no regard to the amount he gives or the reason he does it is the other attempt. 

If he can prove that he’s better at taking care of you than the lizard, he can win this round. 

And get a better lover than his brother, but that’s the secondary goal. 

You were just walking in the garden when you felt someone trip you, causing you to land half in a bush. Before you could turn around to tell off the person responsible, they grabbed your waist and pulled you to them on the floor. “It’s nap time, Herbivore. Shut up and let me sleep.” When you told him that he was the one who invited you here and you’d have to skip your next class to stay, he just huffed and rolled his eyes at you, pushing a pouch in your hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. If you’ll be like that, take this and you can get whatever you want in your lunch period. Fair deal if you’ll stay.” 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Would never ask you out on a date, he’s scared. 

The best treatment that you get before he’s sure you’re not going to be mean to him is that he doesn’t pawn your gifts off for cash. 

Afterward, he’ll be a bit more affectionate 

Maybe even give you some of his food... 

Also, hyena courting stuff; Shadowing a potential partner, taking a step forward and then taking a step back, and other stuff like that. 

You heard the laughing of the beastman before you were able to see his face. He had been following you around for most of the day, but every time he’d take a few steps forward, he’d taken a few back after a second. Now, though, he had his head on your shoulder. “Hello, Prefect. Look what I got!” He said, showing you a donut he had probably gotten from Sam’s. “You want a bite?” He asked, when you nodded and took a bite he bit onto the other end, giggling away. “What, was that really enough to fluster you, Prefect? Shishishi, I should try doing this to you again.”

Jack Howl - 

Jack asks you outright if you feel the same way he does, especially if you two are friends. 

Finally! A confession! 

He doesn’t want to make your friendship weird, so he wants to tell you that it’s happened and either find a way to get over you or have a happy relationship. 

Very much “Worst they can say is no, best they can say is yes” kind of man 

Aside from that, very loyal and sweet to you before he realizes that he likes you 

Also, a pinch of an old-fashioned gentleman in him 

Jack had called you out earlier that day to go on an evening walk with him, and so here you were. You were in the mountains, walking at a fairly slow pace. You neared a big tree as the sun set, and Jack took a deep breath. He took your hand, ears on high alert and tail looking undecided between if it wanted to cower beneath his legs or wag excitedly, and said, “Prefect, I like you very much. Please go on a date with me.”

Octavinelle: 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

Oh no 

He has two moods when it comes to the person he likes; Annoyingly showoffish and annoyingly terrified of you. 

Somehow, it’s sometimes both. 

He would talk very loudly about how well he was doing as a businessman his contracts and how much money he’d made. 

And then you touch him and he just stops functioning.

“Oh, look, Jade! Another new high this month! We might even be able to expand!” He cried, glancing at you again and again. This had been happening every time you visited Monstro Lounge; A song and dance of Azul fishing for compliments that he seemed to hate, if him leaving the room every time you complimented him had anything to say about it. This time, you grabbed his wrist as you spoke, telling him how he was doing a very good job. You watched him turn a shade of red and blue, stiffening up as he muttered out a response. “Thank you... I will keep your response in mind.” The moment you let him go, Jade stepped in to talk to you as the octopus-mer ran away once more. 

Jade Leech - 

As the more put together of the two moray eels here, he gets the ‘classier’ side of the coin. 

Moray courting rituals of wrapping together is often described as a dance, so he’ll try to dance with you. 

Aside from that, I can see him subtly teasing you about yawning in front of him, even if you don’t understand why. 

And feeding you plenty of mushroom dishes. 

You were stuffed, that was for sure. Jade had invited you to Octavinelle a while ago, and now you were here, eating various mushroom dishes like your life depended on it. He was smiling, another one placed in front of you. “A shiitake and crab stir fry is next. Surely, you have room for more?” He asked, a small smile on his lips. He chuckled when you yawned, “Isn’t it a bit late in the season for that?” When you asked what he meant, he only shook his head and brought a filled fork to your lips. “Fufu. Just focus on eating for now, Prefect.” 

Floyd Leech - 

Hehe funny unhinged eel man  

Moray eels like to cuddle, so prepare to be squeezed by him 

Also, yawning or ‘gaping’ (Opening his mouth really wide) at you. 

Honestly, I don’t have a lot of thoughts on him, he’s just a silly little guy. 

“Shrimpy!” You heard cried behind you, Floyd flopping himself over you from behind. He yawned and pushed his head over your shoulder as he spread himself over you so his weight was all on you to hold up. “Whatcha doing?” He asked, smiling at you. Once you answered that you were on your way to class, he frowned, wrapping his arms around you before lifting you like a cat. “That’s boring! Common, Shrimpy, we’re going to find something fun to do!” 

Scarabia: 

Kalim Al-Asim - 

For Kalim, I feel as if the second he knows he likes you, you will know he likes you because he’ll tell you outright. 

Before he knows he likes you, everyone else will know he likes you. 

Running up to you at every opportunity, constantly complimenting you, talking about you to everyone who will listen, etc. 

Much like the other rich kids who aren’t used to being genuinely wanted for themselves and not their money in this school, Kalim will throw expensive gifts at you in an attempt to gain your favor. 

“Prefect!!” You heard someone shout, running at you from across the field of the flying lesson you were in. “There you are! I’ve got something for you!” He said, smiling all the while. He kissed you on the cheek, and then reached into his bag, pulling out a golden bracelet. Before you had time to refuse, because it was the middle of a class where it could easily be lost or because of the outrageous price tag, he spoke up. “And now we match! Just like twins, see?” He had kept his ones on this time, and you couldn’t help but smile as he was beaming up at you. 

Jamil Viper - 

Jamil might not be able to show off often, but he does try to do so for you. 

You’re busy and can’t cook? He’ll get you some food! 

You’ve torn a hole in your gym clothes? He’s got a sewing kit on him!

Your homework is about to kill your GPA because Crewel seems to hate having breaks? He’s your guy!

All in all, he attempts to woo you like a mixture of a 1950s housewife and the stereotype of tutor love interests in media. 

“-And that’s how to make a basic healing tonic. Any questions?” He asked. When you shook your head, he gave a small smile. “That’s good. I’ll help you clean up in here, and then I’ve got something for you back at Scarabia.” His hand brushed yours as he helped you clear up the papers that had been scattered around as you studied. “You mentioned wanting to try foods from the scalding sands, so I got a bunch of ingredients. I’ll make you a wonderful meal if you’d like.”

Pomefiore: 

Vil Schoenheit - 

Much like Riddle, you must deal with him being much more annoying as soon as he likes you. 

Just this time, he’s annoying you about your self-care. 

You don’t take multi-hour spa baths in the crummy bath at Ramshackle? Well, now you do at the much better baths in Pomefiore every week. 

You don’t have a skincare routine that takes up half your morning? Yes, you do. 

You will never be in better condition physically but he will continue finding new ways to push you. 

He does it out of love because he wants you to always look and feel your best. 

You opened the door to Ramshackle, looking at a mildly annoyed Vil. He grabbed you before you could protest, leading you away from your dorm. “Come on, Potato. I’m taking you to Pomefiore, and you’re going to get a makeover.” When you asked why, the third year just rolled his eyes. “You have bags under your eyes, and they seem to be from lack of sleep or stress, if your appearance when you came here was anything to say about it. So, I’m getting you a spa day and will teach you how to take care of yourself better. If you still can’t, I’ll just have to take you for spa time more often.” 

Rook Hunt - 

Rook is a walking love letter. 

Constantly waxing poetics, and talking about how beautiful you are. 

You forget something at home and the next thing you know you’ve got an arrow shot next to you and whatever you need as well as a heartfelt note is in a pouch tied to it. 

And he’s just... There. 

All the time. 

He’s in your walls. 

You sighed, having forgotten your potions textbook for the third time this week. Truly, your memory was your own worst- What was that? A thud had come from right next to you; An arrow with a paper gift bag tied onto it through a deep purple ribbon had been shot into a tree, going right past your head. When you looked into it, there was your missing textbook, as well as a note from the giver. ‘Dearest Trickster, it is a wonder to be in your presence. I do ask, please grace me with those eyes to my face. If only I had those, I would be happy to deliver you your books for the rest of my life.’ When you looked around, you saw him; The third year excitedly waving at you from the rooftop of the school. 

Epel Felmeir - 

He tries so hard to show you how awesome cool and manly he is. 

Has the same vibes as a child showing their parents how good they are at sports. 

“Hey Mom, look!” *Kicks a soccer ball and falls flat on his face* 

He’s doing the best he can with the skills he has, give the little guy some credit 

“Hey, Prefect! Did ya see that goal I made at the end?” Epel said, having just finished a Spelldrive game. He had come up to you as soon as he was done, and you smiled at him, nodding and telling him that he had done well. He puffed his chest out at that, looking like the cat who got the cream. “Of course I did! I’ll even give ya a ride on my broom after our next practice, so you can see what it looks like when ya playing. That’s be fun, right?” He said, smiling at you widely. 

Ignihyde: 

Idia Shroud - 

Scared boy 

Very, very scared boy 

He will try to run from you any time he’s nearby.

If you manage to corner him, expect him to be very flustered. 

Maybe you’ll get a sentence or two out of him if you keep trying... 

Idia had been avoiding you for the past few days, and you had no idea why. So here you were, using the key card ortho gave you to work your way into the room of the hermit. He was hunched over his desk, eyes closed and breathing steady. His monitor was on, so when you walked over, you took the mouse out from him and went to save in his game before you closed it out. He stirred, muttering as he opened his eyes, “One more round, Orthohmysevenitsyouohimsorryicangonow!” He bolted straight up, hair flaming pink as he pushed the swirly chair back and ran out of his own room.

Ortho Shroud - 

His big brother’s best wingman 

Will come up to you and talk about how great his brother is 

If needed, pulls up diagrams and chats like he’s giving a PowerPoint presentation on his brother’s ability to date you 

“Prefect!” You heard a shout, the younger Shroud brother coming up to you. “I have something that you must see! You are aware of my brother’s affection for you, correct?” When you shook your head, he smiled, pulling up a presentation on his iPad. “That makes this much more difficult, but very well! As you can see here, one’s heartbeat increases when one meets with the object of one’s affections. This can be caused by a flight or fight response, which my brother does not usually suffer from when over a call with another. However, when your voice is there, his heart rate spikes dramatically! This means that I have reason to believe that he is in love with you. In this presentation, I will-”

Diasonia: 

Malleus Dracona - 

He is going to try to woo you with gems 

And probably other dragon-courting rituals 

I think that out of the beastmen and fae, he understands the least that you don’t get their courting rituals. 

By the name he realizes that you don’t think you’re dating he’s already picked out the names of your kids. 

“Child of Man?” You heard the familiar voice of Hornton call out to you in your garden. You smiled, turning around to face him. “It’s nice to see you again. I have a gift for you.” He said, holding out a golden necklace with emeralds sprinkled in. When you tried to refuse the gift, saying it was too expensive to get ‘just because’ he only shook his head and put it around your neck. “All the stars in the sky would be too little to give you, and every jewel in my horde pales in comparison to your beauty. If only you wear this, then you will surely compare to my father when you take your place at my side. Although, I believe you already do in both appearance and wit.”

Lilia Vanrouge - 

Old fae bat man 

He flirts with you, but it ends up being either too old-timey or too fae for you to understand 

For the old-timey side; According to Wikipedia, “Gifts accompanied courtship in the form of a man proving coins, trinkets or clothing to the woman he is trying to woo.” So, he gets you various gifts, like coins, jewelry that he has, and whatever else you’re interested in. 

I assume that because he’s such a long-lived fae, they range from ‘I found this stone in the garden’ to ‘Here’s a 1000-year-old artifact capable of destroying the world if you hold onto it wrong’

For the fae side; Male bats court by making various noises (screaming, honking, singing), flicking their wings/showing off how good they are at flying, and grooming the other party. I’m interpreting this as singing to you, playing with your hair, and trying to impress you in flight class. 

Also, him humming old love songs to you and playing with your hair I can’t-

Lilia was sitting next to you on the couch, as you flipped through various movies on the television he had in his room. You were in his arms, with his hands in your hair, braiding wherever he could get enough hair to do so. “Hey, Beastie?” He chuckled as you sighed at the lack of familiar movies. “I really do care for you quite a bit. Also, there’s this one Halloween movie that came out a year or two ago. Terror is Trending, or something. We could watch that.” He laughed again and started humming. It seemed to be a classical piece. When you asked what he was singing, he said “Dichterliebe, Robert Schumann’s Op. 48., movement 11.” He smiled at you, and then laughed at your confusion. “Just put the movie on already, Beastie.” 

Silver “Vanrouge” - 

The meeting scene from Sleeping Beauty 

That’s it, that’s my idea 

Due to the lack of inspiration, he gets a slightly longer drabble, though? 

You were walking in the woods, pausing at a shallow river, singing to yourself. It wasn’t long until you heard a horse trotting towards you. You turned to face it, and Silver smiled as you did. “It’s nice to see you again, Prefect.” He said, getting off his horse to stand next to the river with you. He looked at you, gently humming the same tune as you were. He reached a hand out to pull you in, one hand in yours and the other on your waist. “Do you know how to dance?” He asked, already starting the movements. When you shook, your head, he laughed, spinning you around. “I’ll teach you. Copy my movements, but backward... 1 2 3, 1 2 3...” He started to dance with you, slowly going from repeating the pattern to singing lightly. He was softly smiling, staring at you even as your eyes were focused on your feet. However, it didn’t take long before his horse seemed to tire of this, pushing the two of you in. “Samson!” Silver cried out, now soaking wet and a bit banged up from shielding you from the fall. “And after I promised you an extra bucket of oats to come out here... No carrots for you tonight.” He spoke, looking at you as you asked him why he had done so. Silver only smiled and responded, “There was something strange about you, and I heard your voice earlier. You’re almost too beautiful to be real. I thought it was some mysterious being, a wood sprite or a fae. Truly lovely either way.”

Sebek Zigvolt - 

He tries to protect you like the knight that he aspires to be 

He will infodump to you about Malleous or Brair Valley or something else of the sort if you let him 

Also, he’s half fae, which means fae/crocodile courting rituals. 

Crocodiles mainly bump snouts as far as I can tell, so expect many boops from him. 

Also, piggyback rides and playful nips if you get close enough to him 

“And that is why Wakasama is the greatest mage in our time!” Sebek finished, still carrying you around the school. When you tried again to tell him it wasn’t needed, Sebek scoffed. “Foolish Human! You said that your leg was tired after running in flight class, and so you must rest your legs lest you injure yourself!” He said, bopping his nose against yours. “Besides, you must know by now that as a friend of Wakasama, it is my job to defend you as I would him! In not doing so, I would be committing a sin worse than just letting you walk by yourself! As such, I will accompany you to and from class from now on. Be grateful, Human!” 

RSA+NBC: 

Che’nya - 

Che’nya will try to pull as many pranks on you as he can  

Appearing in random places, taking little things from you, and other things showing up in random places you never put them.  

All around being a little menace and trying to make your daily life as annoying as possible 

You sighed, looking towards the floating smile next to you. It laughed, as you held up the empty pencil case, asking it how he expected you to be able to do your homework now. He only chuckled, the rest of his head and shoulders appearing. “Stay pawsitive, Prefect! No need to be so catty!” You rolled your eyes, to which the boy simply snickered and rubbed his head against your cheek. “Come on, my puns are purrfect!” He pulled a pencil out of seemingly thin air, letting you take it from him. “And I’ve got plenty of pens back at RSA if you’d like to take a weekend trip to see me.” 

Neige Leblanche - Kinda angsty, but not much

He’s a sweet guy first and foremost, and his having a crush on you reflects that. 

He buys you flowers, takes you on walks in nature, romantic stuff like that. 

Maybe watching cheesy old movies with you and cuddling 

He wants to be your friend before he dates you, though, and won’t make a move until after you can see what life would be like if you were dating him considering how famous he is. 

He needs to make sure that you’re comfortable with the fame you’ll gain, and that you love him for more than just his popularity. 

Neige sighed, biting his lower lips. He was situated in your arms on the floor of his dorm room, what you’d define as a cheesy romcom on the TV. The most interesting part was the man going through his DM’s next to you. He snuggled into you a bit more as you asked him what was wrong, to which he said “Just... Hate comments and stuff. They’re really mean sometimes. Saying stuff...” He took a deep breath again, and melted against you. “Thank you for treating me like I’m a normal person. It means... So much to me. I... Care for you so much.” 

Rollo Flamme - Rollo's got yandere tendency's

Unfortunately, I can in no way see Rollo having a light crush on anyone 

For him, I imagine it’s an ‘all or nothing’ situation 

So, you’ll end up with a very obsessive and objectively evil wizard trying to win your heart by any means necessary 

But this is not the post for that, so he’s getting toned down to fit into a little drabble  

“Mon amour, how are you feeling?” Rollo asked you, coming into the area that you were lying in. You had been resting in the infirmary since coming back from the destruction he caused, and he sat on the edge of the bed. You turned away from him, closing your eyes and saying that you had no desire to speak to him. Rollo sighed, “Please, my dear? I am begging you, just talk to me.” You shook your head, but he took your hand and kissed your knuckles anyway. “Then I will wait for you to want to speak to me again. However, I do ask that it be soon. I cannot imagine my life without you, my dear angel, and I do not intend to live without you forever.” 

[porcalinecunt]

𝐃𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐉𝐎𝐁𝐒!

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 taking good care of the duke and the scribe . . . ♡

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ WRIOTHESLEY & ALHAITHAM X GN! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — afab!reader, threesome, dual handjobs, lots of cum, double pussyjobs, “just the tip” wriothelsey, edging(?), masterbation, not proofread!

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ : this was made for a request that was accidentally deleted so im sorry for that ;-; im not the best with alhaitham as a charecter so sorry if he’s a bit ooc! either way, i hope you enjoy :3

you couldn’t think straight, not with two dicks in your fists as you desperately pumped away at your two lovers.

the great duke himself, mansplaining against his desk while the scholar simply stood next to you as he bit back a moan. you knew a man like alhaitham wouldn’t want to make too much noise, unlike wriothesley, who was groaning his little heart out.

“fuckkk…knew i couldn’t wait ‘till we got home..” he chuckled, his signature grin flashed a fang or two at your helpless position. jerking your lovers off as cum already sat splattered all over your fucked out face and flushed chest. your mouth smeared with their seed from an earlier double blowjob that somehow didn’t break your jaw. yet they still wanted more, insatiable as always.

alhaitham reached down to grab a piece of your hair, tearing your gaze away from the duke and into his piercings jade eyes, his expression softer then his usual sharp glare. “you’re doing..so well for us love, shit..”

“not well enough.” wriothesley interjects, shooing your hand off and getting up on his feet. his dick still hard and dripping with precum. “couch. now.”

he snarled, prompting you to stumble onto the soft seating before he pushed you onto your back and forced your legs wide open. you’re neglected pussy now in view for your boyfriends to see, giving them an idea they somehow managed to think of at once.

“say, how ‘bout we make it up to our pretty little thing..? hm? what do you think?” his grace asked.

alhaithem stared down at you like a lion in front of meat, he raised an eyebrow as he gave wrio a more then approving look.

“very well then, as long as you share this time.” he spoke sharply, referring to the times wrio would hog your attention and your cunt.

“good, and as for you..” wrio begins, leaning closer towards your ear. “don’t even think about closing those fucking legs of yours, got it?” he rasped in a menacing tone that made your body freeze up and your pussy clench around nothing.

you sat there confused beyond belief, until something hot and hard slides itself between your lips. a second one came immediately, this time, slapping against your clit crudely.

a nice, fair pussyjob for both of your boys to enjoy. the lewd noises from their cocks rubbing against your wet cunt was enough to arouse you more then before. dripping in desire as both men teased your hole all the way to your swollen clit, with one of them even teasing the tip into your pussy only for them to pull it out.

agonizing, but in the best way possible. you moans harmonizing with wrio’s groans and alhaithem’s sighs of pleasure seemingly fueled your incoming orgasm. “fuck, m’gonna cum..gonna cum..!” you whined, running your fingers against their leaking and swelling tips.

“yeah? want us to make a mess of you love..? just say the word..” the scholar sighed, spurts of white already ruining your clit. with wrio on the other hand practically fucking you with his tip as he came closer to his own orgasm.

“yes..yes..that’s fucking it..!” the duke groaned through clenched teeth as he came all over your cunt, only with alhaithem cumming all over your clit and stomach shortly after. however, despite all that, your own orgasm never came.

“i..i didn’t get to cum yet..” you whined, watching your lovers lean down in front of your ruined pussy with a gentle look in their eyes. alhaithem bringing his fingers to your cum-stained hole while wriothesley pressed a kiss against your needy clit.

“d’wa, don’t fret pretty thing..you’ll be taken care of, just let us do allll the work..”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[ellecdc]

The High Price of Family

chef!Sirius who has some explaining to do x mixologist!reader [1k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

CW: fluff, one reference to having 'been inside' reader

“Red, can you tell your husband to stop being a prat?” Sirius muttered as he stalked back into the kitchen where Lily was sitting at the kitchen island “helping” Sirius cook (which translated roughly to flipping through a magazine as Sirius did all of the work but being credited for having kept him company). 

“James! Stop being a prat!” She called out easily, not bothering to look up from the celebrity gossip she was reading.

“I’m not being a prat!” James called back.

“Then stop pretending to be mad at your best mate!” She conceded, and both she and Sirius shook their heads in fond exasperation as they heard James storming towards the kitchen.

He appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with his hair a mess (not unusual), his arms crossed (somewhat unusual - he did have very nice biceps that he liked to flaunt every now-and-again), and a dark scowl on his face (very unusual). 

“I am not pretending.” He hissed, his stormy gaze flitting between Lily and Sirius before Regulus and Remus entered the kitchen and each took a seat at the table. 

“Do you know what he has me saved as in his phone? Hm? His honorary brother and best friend with whom he has lived for much of his life? James. Fleamont. Potter.” James announced severely, emphasising each part of his name by hitting the side of his open right hand against the flattened palm of his left. “He government named me, Lils! Even Remus is at least only Remus J Lupin, but nooo, I get the full legal name.” 

“I think that’s perfectly acceptable.” Regulus offered primly. “It is your name, isn’t it?” 

Remus snorted a laugh before pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s head. “You two are so weird.”

“It is weird!” James shrilled. 

“What do you have me saved as, Sirius?” Lily asked then; Sirius smirked.

“Lily Evans.”

A horrified sound came from the general direction of James as he stared at his best mate with a look of horror and betrayal, his arms falling uselessly to his sides. 

“But we’ve been married for fifteen years!” 

“And I’ve had Lily saved in my phone for seventeen.” Sirius responded simply. 

“This is absurd!”

“Why are you so bent out of shape about Sirius’ contact list?” Remus asked finally as Harry walked into the kitchen; hovering over Sirius as he dodged Sirius’ half-assed attempts at keeping him from stealing “tests” of his dinner. 

“Oh, dad’s miffed because he saw what Sirius has his new girlfriend saved as in his phone.” 

Remus let out a hum of understanding as Regulus let out a rather inelegant snort. “What’s the future Mrs. Black saved as?” He taunted, earning him a glare from his older brother.

“Y/N martini glass emoji.” James announced dramatically. 

Sirius continued cooking as Remus, Regulus, and Lily all stared at him in silence before Lily finally broke it with an “awe”.

“No! Not ‘awe’!” James shrilled.

“Oh come on, James. You’re only mad because Harry got to meet her first.” Remus placated, causing James to harrumph as he sat dejectedly beside his wife. 

“S’not fair.” He grumbled at the same time Regulus asked Harry what you were like. 

“Oh, she’s hot.” Harry offered quickly around a mouthful of stolen food, earning him an ‘oi!’ from his godfather. 

“Don’t objectify her like that!” He defended quickly, earning him a bemused look from his godson. 

“But…she is?” He asked.

Sirius blinked owlishly at Harry before turning back to his food. “Well, yes, but-”

“When do the rest of us get to meet her, then?” Regulus interrupted.

“Never.” Sirius muttered.

“And why not!?” James beseeched. 

“Because you’re horribly embarrassing and dramatic!” Sirius volleyed, turning towards his best friend and gesturing at him vaguely as if to say ‘see? Case in point’.

“Well that’s not fair.” Regulus pouted at the same time Remus let out a conceding ‘yeah, that’s fair’. 

“So what? You’re just going to meet the love of your life and never introduce her to your family?” Lily teased, causing Sirius to groan and let his shoulders fall. 

“That had sort of been the plan, yeah.” 

“Tough.” Regulus spat.

“You should host a party, Sirius; have us all over to meet her.” Remus offered.

“Fat chance.” 

“What about my birthday, then?” Regulus chimed in.

Sirius turned to look at his brother sceptically. “What about your birthday?” 

“Perhaps I host a party at our place.” 

“Perhaps you do…” Sirius continued.

“Perhaps you bring a plus one.” 

“Perhaps I don’t.”

“Perhaps,” Regulus continued, “that’s what I want for my birthday.” 

Remus nodded gravely at that. “That’s actually exactly what Regulus wants for his birthday, Sirius. He’d asked me for it first but it's not exactly something I can get for him.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want for Regulus’ birthday too.” James added quickly. 

“You don’t get anything for Regulus’ birthday.” Sirius sneered at him. 

“Yes, well,” Regulus started - clearly quite chuffed with what he considered a victory - as he stood to join Harry in stealing food directly from Sirius’ pan, “I do hope neither of you have plans next weekend, because I’m expecting both of you there.”

Sirius sighed and stepped away from the stove as he told the gremlins to ‘have at ‘er’ before grabbing his phone from the kitchen island and opening up your messages.

[mysumeow]

ᯓ★ KINKTOBER DAY 1: SEMI-PUBLIC

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body reader, referred to with you/your. Established relationship, handjob, doing it in a semi-public place, reader takes a dominant role for the most part of the smut. Not proofread.

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: You sneak in with Kinich into the changing room.

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: First kinktober post! I almost caved in and posted it before it was october but I held on since I wanted to actually participate for the first time TT_TT

🎃 . . . KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

There was just something about Kinich today that made your thoughts swirl with improper ideas, and thus, the moment he excused himself to change from his usual clothes into swimming trunks, you knew it was a window of opportunity to sneak in with him into the changing room.

You looked around to make sure there was no one in sight before you called his name. Kinich identified your voice, and he proceeded to open the door.

“What—”

With a solid push, you cut him off and stepped inside with him.

His skin was warm, and it was nice against yours. You pressed your face against his bare chest, as you’d caught him mid-undressing. After a few seconds of both surprise and confusion, your boyfriend wrapped his arms around your waist.

“I was going to ask what you were doing here, but I have an idea of what it could be.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” you pulled away and feigned innocence.

“Sneaking with your partner into a secluded area doesn’t always come with pure intentions.”

“Says who? I only came here to see you,” you were aware it was a brittle excuse and that he knew you were toying with him. Kinich sighed, used to your playful antics at this point.

“Do as you please.”

Next thing he knew, he was pushed against the wall, facing it. You snuck a hand under his pants and got to work him. It was a matter of time until you felt his dick harden beneath your touches, your free hand toying with one of his nipples. Besides that, the way you kissed his shoulder blades further aided to that result.

“Already hard? That was fast. You must like me a lot,” you couldn’t help but tease him, smiling satisfied at yourself.

“When you’re touching me all over my weak spots, how could I not get like this?” Kinich rebutted with a shaky breath; his arms trembled as well.

How unfortunate you couldn’t see the way his precum beaded at the tip or watch him furrow his eyebrows from the pleasure. You acted in an impulsive manner; you didn’t give it too much thought in what position you wanted to pleasure him. Nevertheless, the sounds he was making were arousing, and you continued with your pursuit of his climax. You slid your thumb over the head to smear it on his cock, the friction became more fluid. 

“Haah… It’s not enough,” Kinich murmured. His hand seized your wrist and attempted to fasten your rhythm.

It was your intention to go slow, so you swatted his hand away. “I want to call the shots today, okay? You can have your fun later.”

“I’ll remember this when it’s my turn.”

“I’m scared,” you said with a giggle.

The fact that he was still able to get hard despite the dryness, you decided to tone down a little your unfair treatment. The hand that was working his member went to his mouth, and you asked him to spit on it.

“What bit you this morning?” he was near speechless, not accustomed to being on the receiving end of these types of shameful requests. It was usual for it to be the other way around, when he wanted to finger you, and he told you to get his fingers wet with your tongue. However, he did as you asked, finding no harm in humoring you.

Now with your hand wet, you resumed your strokes. Heeding his request to go faster, though. You increased the tempo enough to lead him closer to his climax, but not quite, to tether him on the edge.

Kinch bit his lip, trying to hinder his groans. All you were doing was giving him a handjob, and yet, it grew more difficult to control himself.

“Kinich!” Mualani’s voice sounded from the outside. “Are you in there?”

“Yes. What’s the matter?” Kinich answered with utmost effort to not let out any suspicious noises.

“You’ve been gone for a while now. I was worried. Everything alright?”

Kinich parted his bitten lips to answer, but a hitched groan escaped instead. You’d decided to really speed up.

“Yes, I’m okay. I’ll be there—” he leaned his head against the wall to steady himself. A hand shot to yours, and for a second you thought he wanted you to wait a moment, but he didn’t put any force in his grasp. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay, then! Don’t take too long. The celebration’s about to start.”

Before you were given the chance to slow down, Kinich maintained his hold around your hand and proceeded to guide it at a steady tempo now, his orgasm built in the matter of a blink of an eye. He shifted his hips forward, your hand flush against the base when he came.

Shortly after, his hand went limp as he relished in the waves of pleasure that coursed through him, trying to regain his breath.

“Head back before it gets too suspicious,” Kinich spoke once he recovered. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Alright,” you gave him a peck on his cheek.

The party continued in complete normalcy; the festive atmosphere helped with everyone being distracted. You had so much fun with your friends and Kinich. It was a rather nice night.

When the party ended and everyone was heading back home, and it was your turn to change clothes... Little did you know of who was waiting there for you to payback what you did to him earlier.

“You know very well how I operate. Everything comes at a price,” Kinich whispered against your ear, a hand already parting your legs and rubbing at your clit through the fabric of your swimwear. “You had your fun. It’s my turn now.”

[fresalana]

you told me your new man don't make you nut that's a damn shame.

synopsis: showing caitlin what it feels like to feel.

warnings: referring to c*nnor, sex. idk how to write warnings.

type: long blurb?

a/n: new tag. first time writing smut. i hope y'all missed me, because i missed y'all.

you knew caitlin wasn't cumming the way she deserved to. c*nnor was definitely not making that happen. she was constantly working hard, giving but never receiving. you wanted to help your friend relax; you wanted to her show her what it was like to feel. you wanted her to understand that dick wasn't the only thing that could make a woman cum. not that she was getting any real dick, anyway.

caitlin's back arched involuntarily off of the bed, a whimper leaving her lips as her hands gripped the bedding tightly – she was going to rip holes in it if she continued gripping it any harder.

"i feel like i'm gonna die, please," caitlin whispered, the desperation in her voice evident as she looked down at you, pleading with you to do something.

"you're not gonna die." you replied, rolling your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. she had squirted at least eight times on the towel beneath her. your fingers were deep inside her pussy, massaging her g-spot, forcing her to cum again and again. your thumb was rubbing her aching clit.

she knew she wasn't going to die, but you were driving her so insane that it felt like she was. "i feel like i am," caitlin whined quietly, her body shaking slightly, her head falling back against a pillow.

you leaned down, kissing her aching clit. "again, you're not gonna die, cait" with your voice muffled against her wet pussy, you licked a stripe up her clit, causing her hips to chase after your mouth. your teasing and condescending remarks were driving caitlin insane – and it wasn't the good kind of insane.

"yes i am," caitlin whimpered, shaking her head. "please, oh my god," and even caitlin could admit that she was being totallydramatic.

"all you can say is please." you scoffed, pumping your fingers into and out of her pussy at a rapid, steady pace with a wet plap! the fact that you had so much power over caitlin was irritating, she'd never admit that. she would never tell you, but there was a certain level of irritation when she was so desperate for something only you could give her.

"mmm," caitlin whined in response, her back arching and hips bucking into your hand, her head falling back against the pillow. "i - i can't, please please-"

"can't what?"

caitlin had no idea what she was even capable of saying and doing at this point, the only thing she was thinking about was what you could do to her. she had completely lost control of her body and was completely at your mercy, and it was killing her.

"i can't take it, i - i really can't," caitlin's words were cut off bay a whine, her hands still gripping the bedding on the bed.

"you want me to stop?"

there were many things caitlin wanted to say and do – but she was too busy feeling the pleasure and overstimulation that north was giving her, which made it difficult to form sentences.

"no, no, keep going, don't stop – oh please -"

"you don't even know what you're saying." you sighed, massaging her g-spot faster.

"your boyfriend ever make you cum before? hm?" your words were, once again, incredibly annoying but arousing to caitlin, who really didn't want to think about c*nnor. being with you was nothing like the relationship she's in now.

"no, god, never," caitlin responded through a whimper, looking down at you. "never like this." your words were incredibly true, and they bothered caitlin; her boyfriend was nothing like you. with you she felt so much more comfortable, free to lay back and have north care for her without having to worry about anything.

"mhm. he probably didn't even fuck you. made you do alll the work. you don't have to do that here, baby. just lay here and "feel .." as you planted a gentle kiss on her stomach, you quickly moved your thumb in tight, fast circles over her clit.

"i love you," caitlin spoke quietly, her eyes shut tightly as she trembled, her back arching as she came again that night. safe to say she'd be coming back for more, and more, and more..

[spiderbeam]

🎧 + Franco #26 (requesting for a friend 🫣

🎧 — prófugos (“fugitives”) by soda stereo

bonus: partners in crime dynamic <3

Lights are blinding, the dull buzzing of electric current lulling you into an odd sense of relaxation. You lean back against the uncomfortable chair, metal rattling lightly as you drum your thumbs against the metal table.

He doesn’t look pleased at all. You can feel him scrutinizing you—trying to make you nervous, to find the cracks and fissures in your facade. And if he’s done his job correctly, if he’s ran your prints, he’d know that you’ve been over this a thousand times before.

“I could help you,” the officer sitting across from you says. Good cop, bad cop, dumb cop—it’s all the same. It’s the same tiresome strategy, pretending to be on your side, trying to nudge you into a corner. “I could get you a plea deal. Make it so that you never have to set foot inside a cell.” You’re still drumming your thumbs, the thin chains of your handcuffs rattling in a rhythmic beat. You can tell it’s starting to annoy him. “But I can’t help you if you don’t help me first.”

Your lips quirk up at that, a small amused huff escaping you. You don’t doubt Franco is being offered the exact same deal. Rat her out, they’ll be telling him. Why should you have to take the fall for her?

So unoriginal.

“C’mon,” the officer urges, staring at you pointedly. His eyes briefly drop to your handcuffs and your fingers tapping against the surface. It forces you to stifle a grin. So it is annoying him. “You’re a bright girl. Your boyfriend has priors—we can say it was his idea. That he roped you into it, that you were an unwilling participant in that carjacking.”

You stop. “Really?”

The officer tilts his head slightly, and like a hound smelling blood, he nods with barely contained enthusiasm. “Absolutely.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, blinking at him. “And what about the other thirty-one?”

His brow twitches. “What?”

“The other thirty-one carjackings. Was I roped into those, too?” You cock your head innocently, leaning closer to him across the table of his desk. “What should we call that? Stockholm Syndrome?”

He stares back at you, blinks once, and you can’t swallow the laugh that bubbles out of your throat.

The officer’s jaw tenses, clenching and unclenching as he takes a steadying breath. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. You don’t have to be his accomplice.”

You grin. “Oh, but I am.” You happen to like the sound of that. You decide to relish it a little more, test it out, see how it sits on your tongue. “We’re accomplices, us both.” You shrug with a smile. “Allegedly, anyway.”

It’s been a long time since Franco and you’ve been having brushes with the law. It isn’t the first time they’ve tried to pit you against one another—certainly won’t be the last. But there’s a thrill that comes with sitting beside him as he drives over the speed limit, music blaring on the stereos of a stolen car and your hand on his while he shifts gears.

Un delirio de condenados, Franco called it once. You asked him what it meant. He’d leaned closer to you with a smile that made you bite down your lips. His voice was kiss-hoarse later that night. Nothing good.

“Move it,” you hear another gruff voice call. You lean your head to the left, hallway packed with police officers at their desks and hauling suspects around. Still, it’s impossible to miss his head of curly hair and winning grin.

He’s handcuffed too—and it takes him a split second to spot you. You see it in his eyes.

Your eyes never lie, you told him once, the two of you sitting on the hood of a stolen car. He raised a brow, amused. No? Never? You could only trace your fingers down the line of his jaw. Never.

It’s how you know it’s business as always. The officer behind him is nudging him forwards and Franco ducks down quicker than lightning. You relish the feeling of his lips against yours, tongue swiping at your bottom one.

“No seas tan cruel,” he hums, referring to the officer across from you. You chase his lips again, but he’s quickly yanked away by the cop behind him.

“Keep it movin’,” he growls, and you turn your head to watch Franco being escorted to the holding cell. He tries to crane his neck to look behind at you again, but the cop with him shoves him forward.

You sigh, the traces of a smile still on your lips. The officer across from you doesn’t look pleased at all.

“So. Where were we?”

a/n: wrote this in one sitting as a little warm up!!!!! hope you enjoy <3

eve’s 1k celebration 🎧

[bluemerakis]

Imagine . . .

❝ Lover Boy Butcher ❞

This is my yapping ass session about what I think Butcher could be like when he’s smitten over you ~

Warnings: mentions of naughty bedroom stuff is all

All likes & reblogs deeply appreciated! Enjoy it my Butcher Babies ᡣ𐭩

Everybody loves talking about mean Butcher, and yeah, well that man is a grade A dick, let’s take a moment to imagine that once he’s actually quite fond of you: he’ll take the time to do the little things that he knows makes your day a little brighter — making you that extra hot cup of coffee/tea in the mornings when the sun’s still rising and the crisp air around your lips thaw with each breath; randomly throwing in a one-line reference of a book or movie you can’t stop talking about (and that you didn’t think he paid attention to) whenever the two of you banter; turning up the radio when a song he knows you love comes on—hell, sometimes he’d catch himself thinking of a snippet of the song you can’t stop randomly erupting into sing over whenever you’re mindlessly tending to chores. You’re all he wants to get back to when he’s out on a job, and definitely the last thing he wants to leave behind when it’s time to go.

When that man loves you, he LOVES you—against his hard-ass will and everything, and he’s still going to be comfortable enough to call you a wanker whenever you’re being a bit of a prude, but it’s never not followed by some form of Billy affection to soften the blow. . . even when you’ve one-upped him with some ball-bruising insult. If you fight—which can be often due to his impulsive brutish nature—he might storm off, or turn to short-lived alcoholism, but he’s always back in your shared bed come nightfall, taking you into his arms, even when you’re not ready to talk to his dumb face. It’s all right, though because depending on how mad you are, he’ll start caressing you in the places he knows you’re sensitive, and if he’s daring enough, he might go in to plant a kiss or two on whichever part of you is most accessible. He might even throw in a crappy, vulgar joke just to elicit some form of acknowledgement from you.

Let me not even get started on how he’ll act in the bedroom—jokes I’m going to tell you anyways: it’s rough—he’s a rough man, he’s unapologetically mean and abrupt in getting to the point, but he’ll slow things down for you. He’s not so much in the rush when it comes to you—why wouldn’t he want to delay every moment spent inside of you, on top of you, in and out, up and about every inch of your body? Come on, what a fucking zone of euphoria to get lost in! Consider him a goddamn hobbyist explorer when it comes to folding you over below him, or hoisting you onto his hard on, or pressing down on the small of your back until you’re wedged between the pillow he’d laid under your lower stomach and the greedy, propulsive thrusts of his hips. Oh, and he’s always going to simultaneously target that clit with a rough fondling of his fingers. This is a man that KNOWS how to pleasure a woman right, good god!

Initially, Billy was not the most educated on aftercare—he’s usually a hit it and quit it type of guy. But since being with you, he’s learning little by little on what he could be doing differently to make the post-sex experience as comfortable and as healthy as possible for you. After holding you close for a few selfish moments, he’ll get up to pour you both a glass of water and bring it to the bedside table before fetching a towel to dab yourself dry. He’ll take off the sheets while you fetch new ones, and you both work to equip the new, clean bedding. If you’re in the mood for it, he’ll draw you both a bath, or steal you away to the shower. But his favourite part? Settling back into the bed, arm hooked around you and pressing you as close to him as humanly possible—your fingers entangled as you chat about the day, about anything and everything, and of course about that one wanker Billy nearly laid to an early grave. Most of the time, it’s you doing the talking, and he’s more than content to listen on—he’s mostly just watching you exist, anyway because he still can’t believe you’re all his. All his. And god, does he love you. He’d do anything for you, kill anybody for you—lay himself down for you.

Okay I’m done now (for now). Enjoy these procrastination thoughts, this is what my brain juice went towards instead of studying because, you know, priorities!

This is not really proof read so apologies if there are any errors—but let’s be real, you just came here for a good wank (jokes?)

[thewrstinme]

“Immortalised in stone.”

word count: 5668

summary: what’s intended to be a cosy night in, cuddling up with noah, watching movies and drinking your favourite tea, turns into copious amounts of praise and worship - where you’re not allowed to do anything except feel and understand the immense adoration this man has for you.

tags: oral (female receiving), tooth rotting fluff, noah worships you n your body, religious/greek god references ig, fingering, pure love n adoration, noah is the sweetest bf ever confirmed, sweet words & lots of praise 18+ mdni

notes: not proofread, first real fluffy kinda smut i’ve written so constructive criticism is super appreciated! thanks for the support on the last two fics, love u all <3

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a soft golden light through the windows of their cosy living room. You’re curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, your long hair spilling across your shoulder as you absentmindedly scroll through your phone. Noah is in the kitchen, humming quietly to himself as he prepares both of your favourite tea, the familiar clink of mugs and the soft hiss of the kettle filling the air.

You glance up from your phone just as Noah walks over, holding two steaming cups. He hands one to you, and you smile, setting your phone aside.

"Thanks, love," you murmur, your eyes warm as they meet his brown ones.

Noah sits down beside you, his arm naturally draping over your shoulders, pulling you close. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the sound of his heartbeat soothing in a way you could never get tired of.

"Long day?" he asks softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Yeah," you sigh, but it wasn’t the kind of exhaustion that weighed on you. Being with Noah, like this, always made you feel lighter. "But this… this makes it all better."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Glad to help."

You shift slightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and sinking further into his embrace. It wasn’t grand gestures or elaborate plans that made their time together special. It was moments like this—quiet, simple, and full of warmth—that made you feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

In the soft light of the sunset, Noah's fingers trace idly along your arm, his touch leaving a trail of warmth on your skin. You close your eyes, savouring the feeling of being wrapped in his arms.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are today?" he asks, his voice low and soft, a murmur against your hair.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "Maybe once or twice," you tease.

Noah chuckled, his chest reverberating with the sound. "It’s worth mentioning again, then."

There was a comfortable silence for a few moments. Noah's fingers continued their lazy path up and down your arm, each touch a subtle declaration of love. He knew you better than anyone else, and somehow, the way he touched you always seemed to say more than words ever could.

You open your eyes and look up, meeting Noah's gaze. There was a softness there, a tenderness that was reserved just for you. "You’re not so bad yourself, you know," you murmur, your lips curling into a playful smile.

A low, amused chuckle vibrates through him. "Oh, stop it, you’ll make me blush," he replies, feigning modesty.

His eyes never leave yours, a mixture of warmth, affection, and the hint of a spark of desire. He shifts, his arm tightening around you, pulling you closer. Noah leans in, and his lips brush against your temple, peppering a trail of light kisses from there to your cheek, each one a promise of his devotion.

The atmosphere in the room changed, becoming charged with an undercurrent of yearning. The quiet had turned intimate, the air between them thick with the unspoken. You feel your heart rate quicken as his fingers continued to draw lazy, soothing circles on your skin.

"I’ve missed you," Noah whispers, his words barely more than a breath. His lips ghost along the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"We’ve been together all day," you point out, unable to keep the laughter out of your voice. The effect he had on you was immediate - your mind and body both respond to his touch in a way that was almost Pavlovian.

18+ under the cut, MDNI!

Noah murmurs something vaguely apologetic, his lips finding that sensitive spot on your neck, the one that always made you dizzy. His hand moves from your arm, slipping under the loose fabric of your shirt to find the skin of your waist.

"I know, I know," he murmurs against your skin, his fingers tracing patterns on your waist. "But I can't seem to get enough of you. Is that a crime?”

There was a hint of a smirk in his voice as he pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes roaming over your face, memorising every feature. He takes you in like he was seeing you for the first time, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, moving up, tracing the curve of your breast through the thin material of your shirt.

"You’re insatiable," you laugh, your voice hitching slightly in response to his touch. You shift against him, trying to regain some control over your own body.

You can see the desire smouldering in his eyes, a look you were intimately familiar with. It was a look that spoke of unbridled passion and a need that was almost primal. Yet, despite the heat that was building between them, his touch was still tender, still reverent. The dichotomy of his actions made your head spin.

"Can you blame me?" he asks, his voice low and gruff. His hand continues its journey up your shirt, his fingertips grazing your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Noah pushes the fabric up slowly, baring more of your flesh to his touch.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his eyes roving over your exposed body unabashedly. His hand splayed across your stomach, his touch both possessive and reverent. "Like you’ve been made just for me."

Your breathing quickens under his touch, your body responding to his words and caresses in a way you couldn’t control. The way he looked at you, like you were the most beautiful, most precious thing in the world, still made your heart skip a beat, even after all these years.

You reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head closer. You can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.

"Maybe I was," you whisper, your voice hoarse with need.

The words hung in the air for a moment, the intensity of their meaning sinking in. Noah looks at you, his gaze darkened with a mixture of awe and want. Then he smirks, his expression playful.

"You’re probably right," he concedes. He pulls you closer, his hand still under your shirt, fingertips dancing along your spine. "You’ve always been my perfect fit, haven’t you?"

He leans in, his lips trailing down the column of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there before moving to your jawline, then your chin. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilting back instinctively to give him better access.

His hand continues to explore, leaving a trail of heat in its wake until it reached the underside of your breast. He pauses, his thumb tracing the edge of your bra, the touch delicate but deliberate.

Each caress, each kiss, each gentle touch sent a shiver down your spine, making you arch into him. You wanted him closer, you needed him closer. His touch was both a comfort and a delicious torment, igniting a fire within you that only he could quench.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tightening in his hair, your body pressing against his. Your hips move slightly, instinctively seeking friction, the thin fabric of your shirt doing little to conceal the growing heat between them.

Noah's arm encircles your waist, lifting you effortlessly from the couch. Without breaking stride, he carries you towards the bedroom, his steps determined, yet surprisingly smooth.

You cling to him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as he navigates the short distance with relative ease. Once you both enter your shared room, the door closing behind you both with a soft click, he sets you gently down on the edge of the bed.

He stands before you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking you in with an almost possessive gaze. Then he kneels before you, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your shirt higher, and higher, revealing more skin.

His touch was still gentle, though there’s an underlying hunger beneath it. The room was silent except for the sounds of their breaths mingling, growing more ragged with each passing moment.

Noah leans forward, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along the inner part of your thigh.

He stops just short of where you wanted him most, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "I could spend the rest of my life just looking at you."

His hands continue their exploration, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns over your stomach, your hips, and up to the valley between your breasts. It was an almost reverent touch, like he was worshipping at the altar of your body.

He moves closer, his mouth finding the sensitive hollow of your throat, his tongue tracing a path up to your ear. His teeth graze your earlobe, his breath warm on your skin. He then whispers your name, your name sounding both like a prayer and a plea on his lips.

His fingers, still under your shirt, move again, finding the clasp of your bra. With a click, the garment comes undone, the fabric loosening around your chest. Noah pulls away slightly, his eyes darkened with want as they meet yours.

"Lift your arms for me, love," he says, his voice taking on a tone of command that sends a spike of heat straight to your core.

You obey, your arms lifting slowly until he could pull the fabric of your shirt over your head, discarding it alongside your bra somewhere behind him. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him, his gaze roaming over your exposed skin, his chest heaving with each breath.

"You're so perfect," he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort it took to keep himself in check. His hands move, cupping your face, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones.

Noah leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It was a kiss of worship, a declaration of his love. His tongue seeks out yours, dancing and exploring in a way that was both familiar and new.

His hands leave your face, roaming down to your hips, then your thighs, his touch both gentle and possessive at the same time. He wanted you, here and now, but he also wants to make this moment last, to savour every second, every touch.

He breaks the kiss, his lips moving down, trailing to your jawline, then your neck, planting a series of soft kisses along your skin. His fingers continue their journey, finding the waistband of your pants, his touch light as he traces the line of them, before slowly, slowly, inching them downward.

He takes his time, the way he always does. It's not about haste or urgency, but rather about the journey. He wants to know every inch of you, to touch and taste every part of you.

His mouth finds your collarbone, his teeth grazing against the sensitive flesh there. His hands continue their work, slowly guiding your pants over your hips, down your legs, and past your ankles until they're removed entirely.

He looks at you, his eyes full of desire and something else, something deeper. You see the years of love and passion, the understanding of each other that comes from many years spent together.

Noah's eyes never leave yours as he kneels before you once again. His hands trail up your thighs, his touch reverent and tender. He looks at your body the way an artist might look at a work of art, appreciating every line, every curve, every inch of skin.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "So perfect."

His fingertips trace the outline of your hip bone, his touch both delicate and firm as he commits every contour to memory.

He continues his exploration, his hands moving higher, caressing the curve of your waist, the soft skin of your stomach, the softness of your breasts. Everywhere he touches, he worships, his eyes never wavering from your face.

"Everything about you is just... perfect," he says again. "Perfect for me."

His lips follow his hands, planting kisses along your stomach, your ribs, your chest. Everywhere he goes, he leaves a trail of fire in its wake, his need for you growing with each touch, each kiss.

Noah's lips trace a path up your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. He stops just below your ribcage, his eyes drinking you in, his expression a mixture of awe and desire.

"You know in Greek mythology, they'd write stories about people who were so beautiful, they were said to be sculpted by the gods themselves," he whispers, his voice low, his hand tracing a pattern on your hip.

"I would've thought they were talking about you."

His eyes rove over your form, taking in every inch of you. The way the light casts shadows across your body, highlighting every curve, every contour, it reminds him of the sculptures he saw in museums in his youth.

"You're like a Greek goddess," he whispers, his voice thick with reverence. "Aphrodite come to life, carved from ivory and gold."

His hand traces the line of your hip, his fingers trailing down to your thigh.

"You could have your pick of any god, any mortal man, yet you choose to be mine," he murmurs, his voice soft, his gaze fixed on yours.

His hand, still on your thigh, gives a gentle squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh just slightly. He loves these times, when he gets to see you like this, when he gets to worship you the way he'd always wanted to but was afraid to ask for.

"You're an angel, sent from the heavens just for me," he whispers, his lips hovering just over yours.

"You're like the embodiment of everything perfect, everything beautiful," he continues, his words a soft murmur against your skin. His hand continues its journey, trailing up your inner thigh, the touch both reverent and possessive.

"I can't believe you're mine. I don't think I'll ever get over how lucky I am."

His heart slams against his ribs, his breath catching, his throat tightening with emotion. It's always like this with you, he thinks. Every time, like the first time.

"Shh," he shushes you as you go to speak, his finger against your lips. "I know what you’re going to say, my beautiful girl."

His lips find your stomach again, his hands roaming, caressing every inch of your skin. He is gentle, so gentle, his fingers tracing patterns only he can understand.

"Right now, I just want to worship you. Just let me."

He knows every curve, every freckle, every mark. He knows your body as well as he knows his own, and yet every time, it feels new, different, like he's discovering something wonderful for the first time.

His body moves over yours, covering you with his weight in a way that both feels protective and dominating. His hands are everywhere at once, his lips trailing a path down your neck, over your collarbone, down your sternum, like he's mapping out a familiar but no less sacred territory.

"I love you," he whispers against your skin, his voice low, his breath hot. "I love every inch of you, every inch is perfect. Mine."

Noah looks at you with an almost reverent expression, his eyes tracing every feature of your face, like he's seeing you for the first time. He knows every inch of your body, every freckle, every curve, yet every time he sees you like this, naked and open, he's struck anew.

"You're a goddess," he whispers, his voice thick with adoration. "And I'm just a mortal, worshipping at the altar of your perfection."

You try to interrupt, to thank him, or to tell him how you too feel, but he silences you with a gentle finger against your lips. His expression is serious, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce intensity.

"No," he says firmly. "Tonight, you don't have to worry about anything. Just let me make you feel good, love. Just let me do this."

Reluctantly, you nod, your body relaxing against the bed sheets, the trust in your eyes palpable. You trust him, completely and utterly.

He smiles at this, a small, almost satisfied smirk, his hands returning to your body, caressing and worshipping you, every touch a silent promise of pleasure to come.

His lips find your skin again, his kisses slow, deliberate, his tongue tracing a path over your body. Every touch is soft, almost reverent, his hands and lips moving in unison, as if they had been designed to explore only you.

"Just lay back," he murmurs against your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. "Just let me take care of you tonight."

His hands move down, caressing your thighs, his fingertips tracing feather-light patterns on your skin. His mouth follows, his tongue darting out to taste the salty sweetness of your skin. Everywhere he goes, he leaves a trail of fire, his passion for you burning hot and intense, with a reverence that borders on religious.

"You're the only worship I need," he whispers against your hip, his lips trailing slowly towards the most intimate part of you. "The only shrine I'll visit, the only prayer I'll ever say."

He looks up then, his eyes locking with yours, as if seeking permission. He wants to taste you, to make you feel more than you ever have before, wants to show adoration in the only way he knows how.

You nod, a silent permission given, and he smiles, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves lower, his hands gripping your thighs, gently moving them apart.

"All the artists in the world," he mutters, his voice thick with desire, "and they never managed to carve something as perfect as you."

Your breath catches in your throat at the look in his eyes. He smiles, a slow, satisfied smile, his hands tightening their hold on you ever so slightly.

"You should have been immortalised in stone," he murmurs, his lips trailing over your stomach. "A masterpiece that generations will look upon and strive to reproduce, but fail every time."

"I'd have built a temple in your honour," he whispers, his lips just above your hip. "I'd have worshipped you every day, every night. Made you a queen."

His hands trail up your legs, the caress of his fingertips leaving behind a trail of gooseflesh, his touch both soothing and arousing. He’s almost there, the moment he’s wanted since he first saw you today.

"I would've painted you in every colour," he murmurs, his breath hot on your skin. "Written sonnets to your beauty, crafted ballads that would echo through the ages. I would've-"

He's interrupted by his own desire, his words turning to guttural moans as he finally, finally tastes you, his mouth finding the most intimate part of you.

Your back arches involuntarily at the feeling of his tongue against your clit, a soft gasp escaping your lips. He grins against your skin, his eyes glancing up to meet yours.

"You're the only prayer I'd ever pray to, love," he murmurs, his words almost a prayer in and of themselves. "The only deity I'd ever kneel for."

He continues to pay proper homage, his tongue moving against you, his fingers caressing your thighs, holding you in place as he devotes himself wholly to pleasing you. He's not thinking about anything else but you, making your pleasure his only priority, his only desire.

"You're more than a goddess," he mumbles, his voice thick with want. "You're a religion, and I'm your most devout follower," he whispers, his eyes locking with yours once more. "Willing to spend an eternity on my knees, if it means I get to worship you like this."

You desperately whine his name, your back arching under his touch, your body responding to every caress, every movement of his tongue. He smiles, the sound of his name from your lips like music to his ears, his eyes drinking in every little reaction he can pull from you.

He's intoxicated, drunk on the taste of you, the feeling of you under his hands, his mouth, everything about you. He's in a state of bliss, and he knows he could stay like this for hours if you'd let him.

He moves against you, his tongue tracing patterns, his lips never leaving your skin. He can't get enough, he'll never get enough. He wants to worship every inch of you, pay homage to your beauty, your strength, your heart. You're everything to him, and he wants to show you that, to show you how deeply he adores you.

"I'd sell my soul to have you like this," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "I'd do anything for this."

His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place, as he continues to worship you with his tongue. You can feel his devotion in every movement, in every moan that escapes his lips, in the way his body seems to fit perfectly against yours.

He's completely lost in you, drowning in the sensations he's creating, the feeling of you under him, the sound of your sighs and moans echoing in his ears. He wants to stay like this forever, to spend an eternity making you feel like this, like you're the only thing that matters.

He moves his mouth against you, his tongue tracing stripes up and down your sensitive flesh, his fingers moving in unison to gently pump in and out of you, adding to the sensations you're feeling. His touch is both soothing and intense, sending shivers up your spine, making you gasp and moan.

He loves this, the way you respond to him, the way you sound, the way you taste. It's all addictive, and he's helpless to resist the pull he feels.

His touch is everywhere, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, his devotion evident in every move he makes. He knows your body, knows everything that makes you react, and he exploits every weakness, every pleasure point, to bring you to the peak of ecstasy.

He's lost in the moment, lost in you, his eyes glued to your face, watching every expression, every gasp, every arch of your back. He doesn't want to miss a single thing, wants to memorise every minute detail of this moment.

“You’re perfect," he mutters against your skin, like a prayer, a benediction. "Perfect, perfect, perfect,” he hums each word in between a gentle peck that lands on the centre of your clit, making you squirm and grip his hair a little tighter.

He knows he's babbling, that his words may not make sense, but he can't help it. You do this to him, make him lose control, make him forget anything beyond you and him and this moment.

He’s not thinking about anything but you, about your pleasure, about making you feel even a fraction of the adoration he feels for you. It’s all that matters, everything else is just background noise to him. He feels the way your body starts to react, the way your breathing quickens, the little whimpers that escape your lips. He grins against your skin, a feeling of satisfaction and pride washing over him. He's doing this to you, bringing you to this blissful state, and it's making him feel alive.

You whine his name, the sound a plea, a desperate yearning. You beg him to continue, not wanting this feeling to end, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

"Please," you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets, your body arching under his touch. "Please, Noah, I need you, don't stop, please."

His eyes lock with yours, a smirk on his lips, his ego inflated by your words. Knowing that you're begging for him, begging for release, it's a feeling like no other. He could stay like this forever, bringing you to the edge and back again, over and over, just to hear you say his name, to watch your body react to his touch.

"Anything for you, love," he murmurs against your skin, his voice low, "anything."

He doubles down, his mouth and fingers working in tandem, his movements becoming more insistent, more intense. His fingers are relentless, two of them sliding in and out of you with a gentle yet powerful pace, and his mouth and tongue work effortlessly to stimulate your clit. He's determined to bring you over the edge, to give you the release you’re begging for. He can feel himself getting carried away, lost in the moment, in his devotion to you.

"You taste like sin," he mutters against your skin, his breaths ragged, his heart racing. "Like every bad habit I've ever had. I'm addicted, love, obsessed.”

His words are rough, his voice low and raw, the sound of your gasps and whimpers only driving him further, his need growing with every second that passes.

He continues to babble, his words a mixture of blasphemies and prayers, his mind fuzzy with pleasure.

"You're a sin," he groans, "a temptation I couldn't resist. But you're also an angel, a masterpiece, a deity incarnate, you’re everything I'm not but everything I need.”

He moves against you, his pace relentless, his breath warm on your skin. "You're perfect, love, and I'm addicted to you."

"I'd burn the world down for you," he whispers, his words a fervent confession, a promise he'd die to keep. "I'd sacrifice everything, just to make you feel like this, to hear you say my name, feel you under my hands."

He's in a trance, drunk on his own desire, on the feel of you, the taste of you, the sound of you. It's all consuming, a whirlwind that he can't escape, wouldn't want to even if he could.

You arch your back, feeling like you're about to lose your mind, your body writhing under his touch, your gasps and moans filling the room. You're a trembling, pleading mess, completely at the mercy of his hands, his mouth, his words that send shivers down your spine.

"Please, Noah, please," you gasp, your voice cracking, "I need you, I need you so bad it hurts."

"I know, love," he murmurs against your clit, his voice ragged, his body thrumming with the desire to satisfy your need, to give you everything you're begging for. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you."

His hands hold you in place, his mouth and fingers never leaving you, his pace relentless, his goal singular. He wants to make you come undone, to see you fall apart because of him, because of the pleasure he's bringing you.

He's lost in the moment, completely surrendered to the need to make you feel good, to give you the pleasure you're craving, to show you how much he worships you. It's like nothing else matters, everything and everyone fading into the background, until there's nothing but the two of you in this moment.

Your body arches and trembles, your eyes squeezing shut as the waves of pleasure overtake you. You gasp, his name a plea on your lips, the sound loud and desperate. You're completely undone, quivering and gasping, your body responding to the pleasure he's given you.

"Noah," you gasp, as if saying his name is the only thing that’ll ground you from the waves of pleasure you’re experiencing.

"That's it, angel," he whispers against your skin, his eyes locked on your face as you reach climax. "Let go for me, gimme that pretty sound."

He's watching you, his gaze intense, drinking in every reaction, every gasp, every twitch of your body as you ride out the pleasure he's given you. It's a moment of pure intimacy, a sight that only he gets to see, and he's worshipping it like it's the first time he’s ever tasted you.

He slowly slows down, his movements gentle now, his mouth peppering your clit with soft kisses, his hands caressing you gently, like you're fragile and easily broken. He's in awe, his eyes soft and dazed, humbled by the effect he's had on you, by the sounds you made because he wanted it, *needed* it.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, his lips ghosting over your skin, tracing a path from your jawline down to your collarbone. "More than I deserve."

He's reverent, almost reverential, as if he's witnessing a miracle, a moment too perfect to be real.

He continues to whisper praise against your skin, his words a constant litany of adoration and worship.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his voice soft and reverential. "A goddess incarnate, a deity walking among mortals."

His hands move over your body, tracing every contour, every curve, as if he's trying to commit your body to memory.

He gently pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, his eyes still filled with awe and adoration.

"You were perfect," he whispers, his lips moving over your skin, trailing a path from your temple down to your chest. "So beautiful, so good, so perfect for me. I'm so proud of you, love."

His hands caress every inch of you while his mouth showers you with praise and worship, his touch tender and loving, his words filled with affection and appreciation.

He takes his time, mapping your body with his hands and lips, his touches gentle, his words reassuring. He wants you to feel safe, valued, treasured. He wants you to know that you're everything to him, that he worships you, adores you, lives for you.

You snuggle your naked body against his still fully clothed one, feeling the cool fabric against your sensitive skin. You nestle into the crook of his arm, your head resting on his chest, sighing contentedly as you feel his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Your hands draw idle patterns on his chest, tracing the muscles that lie beneath the fabric, your movements comfortable, familiar. You feel safe, cocooned in his embrace, your body heavy and satisfied. You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes soft and languid.

"I love you," you murmur, your voice slightly hoarse from the sounds you just made, your words a soft admission, a declaration of your feelings.

"I love you more," he replies, his arm around you tightening subtly, pulling you closer, as if he can't bear even an inch of space between you. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment, inhaling the scent of your hair.

He continues to hold you, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your shoulder, his heartbeat a steady rhythm under your ear. He knows you're tired, physically and emotionally spent, and he's happy to just hold you, to feel you against him, the warmth and weight of you a comfort he's glad to have.

Noah gently guides you onto the bed, a soft and content smile on his face, before disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a warm, damp towel in his hand, the action practiced and familiar.

"You were perfect, love," he murmurs as he begins to wipe down your body, his movements gentle but efficient. His lips follow the path of the towel, planting soft kisses on your skin, reverential and appreciative.

"So good for me, so beautiful," he continues, his voice a low, soothing murmur, his praise constant and sincere. "I couldn't ask for more, love. You're everything."

He takes his time, his touch soft and loving, his movements slow and gentle. His eyes are glued to your face, watching your reactions, making sure you're comfortable and relaxed.

Once he's finished, he leaves the towel near the bed and crawls over you, his body hovering above yours. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin tenderly.

"You alright, princess?" he asks, his brown eyes searching yours, his expression full of concern and care. You nod sleepily, a soft smile on your lips, your eyes heavy with fatigue. You tuck yourself into his side, curling up against him, your body seeking out his warmth and comfort.

Your head rests on his chest, your ear pressed against his heart, the steady thump-thump lulling you into a state of blissful contentment. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

"Sleep, baby," he whispers, his voice barely above a murmur. "I’m here."

Noah’s voice was like a gentle melody, his soft words wrapping around you as his arms held you securely. His warmth seeped into you, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek was the most comforting sound in the world. You felt safe, cherished, completely at ease in his presence.

“I love you,” you mumble sleepily, your voice muffled against his chest. His fingers, still drawing soft circles on your skin, paused for a moment before resuming their tender path.

“I love you more, princess,” he murmured back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re everything to me.”

The weight of his words filled you with a deep sense of belonging. Noah always had a way of making you feel like you were his entire world, like nothing mattered more than being here with you, right in this moment. His touch was gentle, his presence steady, and you knew that no matter what, he would always be there to hold you like this.

As your eyelids grew heavier, you curled further into his side, his warmth surrounding you like a cocoon. His fingers continued their slow, soothing movements, lulling you into a peaceful haze.

“Goodnight, my sweet girl,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

taglist: @aubrey-melinoe @cainified @krrule1 @ihrtlonghairedboys @somewhere-diamond

@thisbicc @lovesick-evangelist @fadingintothegrey @anything-more-than-human

[simpxxstan]

cannn i request a bff! Wonwoo with lots of pining and emotional constipation pls 🤍 love ur writings

anon requested: hiii can i please request a f2l wonwoo trope? Luv ur writings<3

this is a part of my 550 followers event, but requests are now CLOSED.

genre: sugary fluff, gamer!wonwoo, high school au, friends to lovers.

word count: 6.9k words.

listening to his voice asmr audios and leftover while writing this- can't you tell i just love wonwoo's voice? he's just such a warm hug personified! pls note: i've combined two requests here because they're similar! thank you to both anons for requesting! i'm so sorry again for the delay T_T i rewrote this many times. i hope you like it!!

warnings: very shy reader, gaming references (likely to be inaccurate due to lack of personal experience, please excuse!).

it's the last year of your high school, and yet it doesn't feel like so. you may have turned 18 early this year, but it doesn't feel like the year you graduate from school and move on to a higher, more independent direction in life.

or perhaps you're just not mature enough. not ready enough to embrace adulthood. either way, the intense fear of what the future holds has you by the throat since the start of the year. it's not that you're trying to escape from responsibilities, but somehow it daunts you to no end that you'll have to leave this cocoon you've lived in all your life. step out of your comfort zone and into the real world.

perhaps it's not a maturity thing. perhaps it's just an introvert thing.

you're quite sure none of your classmates feel this scared of the future right now. most of them have their career goals defined, ready to sit for entrance examinations, or write applications to foreign universities. most of them have had experiences bordering on the edge of adulthood already- like their first kiss, their first date, their first relationship. most of them have already figured out where they see themselves three or four years from now- even if it not perfectly, it's brilliant that they even see themselves four years from now.

you? you don't even know if you'll be able to make it on time to the first day of class. it's literally the last year of school, and you've still not mastered the art of not getting late due to extreme social anxiety on the first day of class. somehow you rush into class, ankles burning from running through the campus, moments before the teacher arrives. you notice that there are only two seats left available in the class- one in the first bench, and another towards the back. you wonder if you should be sitting in the front to make a good impression on the teachers on your first day, but then your friends wave to you from the back, and your decision is made for you.

just as you finally settle down, your nerves easing out with the flowing conversation with your friends, the teacher walks into the classroom, creating pin-drop silence instantly, but she's not alone.

"good morning, class. welcome your new classmate for this year." on hearing her words, you look up from the new book your friend's been showing you.

the book almost drops from your hands.

"hello! my name is jeon wonwoo. nice to meet you all!"

_

in this moment, you're so, so glad you didn't choose to sit in the first bench. in this moment, you're so, so glad you always stick to your friends who generally do the talking for you whenever you're outside your tight-knit friend circle. in this moment, you're so, so glad you're the most ordinary-looking girl in the class.

because all of these ensure jeon wonwoo doesn't even spare a glance at you. and if you can keep yourself in check, he will not spare a glance at you for the rest of the eleven months of the school year. it's anyway just one year. if you keep out of his sight for long enough, he'll forget you exist.

as you walk home that evening, you wonder why must the universe be so cruel to you that it's now decided to make jeon wonwoo enter your class? wasn't it enough that he tormented you every day after beating you at games, that now you would have to see him daily in your immediate periphery? wasn't it enough that he'd already stolen your heart when you knew nothing of him except his voice, that now you would have to also know how devastatingly handsome he is in real life?

on reaching home, you slump down in your gaming chair and turn on your desktop.

2 messages from jeonwonubokdeongeori

you sigh before clicking the discord popup open, your annoyance increasing tenfold on reading the texts.

how was your first school day? going to a new school is so daunting T_T

daunting? with that face? with those charms? with that obvious intelligence sparkling in his eyes that no teacher can resist? what a liar. but at least he's telling you now that he's going to a new school. you can't ask him the name of the school because you don't want him to get curious about your school in return. so you keep it neutral.

i bet it wasn't as bad as mine lol wanna play and get the stress out?

wonwoo's message comes instantly, and you feel yourself melting. it does sound like such a tempting idea, especially with the way your body is still high-strung from all the social exposure and new worries of the final academic year. you want to say no- you want to start distancing yourself from him, you want to ensure your crush doesn't become serious. and yet, you can't keep yourself away from clicking on the yes button when he sends you a request to join a game.

seconds later, his voice rumbles in slowly through the other side of the game. his player is wearing a yellow outfit today, similar to your school uniform. "hey," it's a single syllable but it sends a shiver of comfort down your spine, and you can feel your body relax. it's online. he doesn't know it's you. it's just a game between friends.

"hi won," you voice is a soft whisper, almost afraid that he'll recognise you. you're sure he won't, because you've made sure he hasn't heard your voice throughout the day- but even if he does, he doesn't indicate it in any way.

he chuckles on the other end. "you sound so tired. you probably need sleep more than a game." "i've been drinking too much soda- no way i'm gonna sleep soon," you stifle a yawn to keep talking to him. "mhmm, soda's not good for you, princess." princess. you know it's not a nickname, or meant to be endearing. he's simply referring to your username, pretzel_princess, which you go by during games. three days ago, you'd wished you'd used your own name as your username, just so you can hear him say your name while playing, although princess sounds good enough. but in hindsight, it's been the best decision you've ever made.

"jeon wonwoo, are you just stalling the game?" you smirk, and you hope he hears it in your voice.

he does.

"well then, game on, princess."

_

after that, you can't keep your eyes away from wonwoo. the initial shock has now worn down- and suddenly the reality seems more stark in full HD. he's right here- literally ten seats away from you. in all likelihood, you could just whisper and he would hear your voice.

and identify you at once.

and yet, you can't keep your eyes off him. he seems so.... different in real life, and yet exactly the same. you start linking every tiny bit of character you've learned about him till now to his real self.

like how he's complained to you multiple times about his poor eyesight- and you've scolded him about his terrible gaming addiction and how he should stop immediately, only for him to laugh it off. you can see how thick his glasses are, and how he has to squint often even with the glasses- and you make a mental note of scolding him again tonight.

like how he doesn't like swimming during the physical education classes- instead opting for athletics. he's told you before he has a fear of drowning, and now you witness this with your own eyes too.

like how he's an introvert too- keeping mostly to himself, although everyone is trying to get a piece of him. with his looks and his natural charm, you can hardly blame the girls and the guys for swarming around him every day. although it's barely been a week since he's joined, he's already solidified a fanbase- people who are ready to give him homework, their lunchboxes and also their hearts. it's no surprise though- you're no different than them. you were just a tad bit more pathetic- at least they hadn't fallen for him after hearing just his voice.

it feels like you're leading a double life. you've never been more thankful for your introvertedness- perhaps the only time you've been thankful for it. but this is the only way to ensure wonwoo doesn't know who you are. you do your best to ensure your friends don't get curious about him, and even if they do talk to him, you stay away from the spot at that moment. it's even better because none of the teachers know you by your name (you've never given them reason to), hence no one in class draws attention to you. your friends call you by a nickname (not princess), so even if they're calling out for you from a distance, wonwoo could never realise it's you.

well. things are not as bad as you'd think they would be.

unless of course, one counts the worsening of your infatuation. it's already been a while since you've known each other as ... online best friends. well, you'd been gaming together on the same server for a year now, but it was only eight months since you'd dm-ed him, and initiated a conversation, ignoring your shaky hands. thankfully, he'd replied almost instantly- and that had sparked things off. too fast, you'd gone from strangers who game together occasionally to friends you share your feelings and thoughts with. wonwoo had been surprisingly easy to open up to. perhaps because he resonated with most of your experiences? with him being as introverted and shy as you see him now, you'd understand why. or perhaps because you'd always thought he would be just an online friend- a voice behind a screen. never more tangible than that. and there was a comfort in that. no fear of judgement. no insecurity about your looks. no worries about embarrassment. and even when you had your voice on, conversation had flown easily, and so had giggles and intimate moments.

you slam your head against the textbook you're reading as you remember that night when you'd messed up. of course, your crush was nothing new. you'd slowly and surely begun to develop feelings for the gentle-voiced gamer who had won his way into your heart with his gaming skills and the softness with which he treated you. like how he would immediately catch on to any exhaustion in your voice. how he'd remember the little details you told him about your daily life. how he'd remind you to sleep instead of playing another match, because you'd have to wake up early the next day. sometimes, with your headphones on and wonwoo's voice floating in, you'd escape from this real world, away from the fears of your life, into a world where it felt like you were sitting with him, on a swing, in a playground. and sometimes, your imaginary world took you to a rollercoaster, him holding your hand as you both screamed with the adrenaline rushing to your head. and eventually, your imagination would take you to a world where you'd picture a faceless wonwoo hugging you after a long day of studies, just as his words comforted you with the similar warmth of a hug.

well, faceless no more.

your face heats up as your mind strays to the thought of hugging wonwoo. knowing he was so much taller than you, and so beautifully built even in the hideous school uniform, his hugs would absolutely engulf you and drown you in his warmth. you shake your head as you focus on your book again. you shouldn't be daydreaming about your online best friend. not when you don't even have the guts to own up and face him in real life.

_

the next month is largely uneventful. the novelty of wonwoo's presence slowly wears off, although his fanbase does not. but you've grown smart at avoiding him. with your study pressure mounting up, you both have lesser time to play games anyway, but whenever you do, you're bound to lose your sleep. because after two hours of just you and him, your noise-cancelling headphones focusing on every breath he takes and curse he utters while playing, your mind feels like levitating. he frequents your dreams on those nights- and you dream about an alternate reality where you can sit next to him in the library and hear his gentle voice from up close instead of simply through your headphones. where his laugh shakes up your desk and you can actually see the beautiful smile you know he must have on his face whenever you crack a silly joke and he laughs for you. where you can solve his maths sums with him, after he complains about finding them too hard.

you know you're being stupid. you have your college entrances coming up really soon, and you should move on from this silly crush of yours when you're not even brave enough to do anything about it. but you simply can't distance yourself from jeon wonwoo.

"what are you thinking about, princess? you're very quiet these days." his question isn't probing, but caring. "it seems like there's a lot on your mind."

you sigh. "there is, but i can't tell you."

"no? wonwoo's upset on hearing that."

you double take on hearing that. "it's nothing serious. just silly worrying. i don't want to dump on you-" "you're not dumping anything on me. if you keep stuff from me, i'll feel even more helpless and sad." you try to understand if there's any hint of fakeness in his voice, but you cannot hear anything except the slow rumble of genuineness in his voice.

"i- i can't tell you, wonwoo."

"is it about me?"

"what? no. no, no. why would i be upset about you?"

"i don't know. why else would you hide things from me?"

"ummm-"

"i won't push you. but i really want to help. i like hearing you laugh often, princess."

he doesn't raise the issue again during that match, but his words linger in your mind for longer than they should. it ends up distracting you during the game, and he tsks into the microphone.

"i'm seriously going to abort this game if you don't tell me why you're playing so badly. i thought we were friends."

best friends, you remember telling wonwoo two months back. you're the closest thing to a best friend that i have, won. and he'd said it back, his voice shy, me too, princess. i'm so glad i found you.

"you're not going to let this go, will you?" your voice is vulnerable, as his caring words really seep into the layer beneath your skin. "if you want me to, i will."

"then i do want you to. i'll talk about it when i'm ready, wonwoo."

he sighs, and you feel the sound of his breath send a shudder through your spine.

"as you want, princess."

_

it's midterms week and you're neck-deep in assignments, when wonwoo's call request comes in. you don't think twice before accepting it, knowing he's a great study partner.

"hey! are you busy with exams?" "so right i am." "yeah lol, me too. 'tis the season, huh?" he chuckles, and you grin. if you consider the fact that it's almost the end of two months and wonwoo still doesn't know you, then it makes you feel ... kinda good on the inside. like you're in a detective movie. like you're in a spy film.

"my brother says he wants to meet you." you almost choke on your coffee when you ask him, "what?!" "yeah, he said that he's heard enough about you, now he wants to see if you exist at all." "you can just tell him i exist-" "he doesn't believe me. says that i'm too loser to have a sweet girl friend like you."

sweet girl friend.

pretty sure wonwoo doesn't intend it to sound like the way it does, but it does make your skin burn up with an unbearable blush instantly. all your sleepiness is gone instantly, his words acting quicker than coffee, and you sit upright.

"you're not a loser. and you have plenty of female friends, i'm sure." "no, and no. princess, i play games on my computer every day, barely have a social life, and haven't gone on a date with anyone in my seventeen years of existence. i don't think you understand my loser level."

"and your brother has done all of this?" "you bet. he has a girlfriend and he's just fifteen. seems kinda illegal to me." you laugh. "as long as he isn't crossing lines, it's not illegal i guess." "hmm true. the point is- we're really very different, my brother and i. and i admit i am a loser... in real life."

you coo at him, your voice becoming softer. you can't imagine him having confidence issues- not when you've seen how perfect he literally is. "i think you're just overthinking. firstly, gamers aren't losers. secondly, you do have a social life. you have me. and you have those other friends you game and hang out wit-" "yes but seungcheol and mingyu are also losers. seungcheol is literally in college but hasn't been able to get laid yet." wonwoo's dead-serious words make you burst out laughing, and he joins in.

"i think it's just because you're all shy. it's okay! you know i'm super shy too." there's a pause before he replies, and you almost think you've lost your internet connection. "i don't think you're as shy as me, though." "there's no comparative metric, won."

another pause. "maybe. but i wish i wasn't like this. you know, you and i live in the same city, but we've never even planned to meet up or anything."

your pulse flutters in your neck. "but that's the charm of online friendships! we connect so well, but just talking online is enough, isn't it?"

"yes... but don't you ever get curious?"

you're moments away from a meltdown. you want to confess your secret and run away from the desktop at the same time- because you're sure he's recognised you. but thankfully he replies before you do. "but then again, i wouldn't ever be able to face you because of how often you've beaten me in overwatch." and his laugh breaks the tension and you take a deep breath of relief. fuck. that was close.

_

"wonwoo, you were right when you'd told me you'll need some help in pre-calc. i understand that the curriculum in your previous school was slightly behind ours here, which is why your foundation is a bit weak. don't worry, smart boys like you catch up in no time." you'd barely paid attention to your math teacher's ramblings, eager to pack up your bag and leave for home. it's finally the end of the class day, and you're excited for the weekend. you also know wonwoo's birthday is tomorrow, and you've bought a new character for him on the game you're both obsessing on currently, and you can't wait to hear his excited, high-pitched giggle tonight when he receives his gift mid-match.

"y/n and seori, i want you to discuss amongst yourselves who would like to tutor wonwoo in his pre-calculus foundations for the rest of this term. you'll receive extra marks for this on my paper, so i request you to take this seriously."

your bag slips from your fingers, as you look up, an ashen look on your face. it's clear that your teacher wants you to take this up with the way she's got her eyes fixed on you even as seori has already stepped up to her. thankfully she speaks before you need to. "i'll do it, ma'am. y/n, i hope that's okay with you? i really need the extra marks," she whispers the last bit to you, and you let out a sigh of relief as you nod your approval. you look away from seori to see wonwoo's eyes on yours, and you panic for a moment. but there's no sign of recognition. just a mild curiosity and confusion flash in his pretty eyes, before you avert your eyes and walk out of the classroom.

it's probably a coincidence, you tell yourself as you walk back home, your heart still racing from the close escape you made mere minutes ago. it was bound to happen some time or the other, you console yourself, you're lucky to have avoided it for two entire months anyway. but as soon as you reach home and switch on your desktop, you see a notification flash.

4 messages from jeonwonubokdeongeori

what can he have to say? what if he has actually recognised you? you gulp, your palms sweaty as you click it open.

hey can we skip tonight's gaming session? i have a small gaming party with my friends tonight and then they'll be coming over for a sleepover

oh, must be a birthday celebration.

sorry if you were looking forward to it :(

you were looking forward to it. you've spent a solid bit of your savings from your pocket money to buy it for him, and you'd really looked forward to, well, hearing his reaction. but you wouldn't dream of barging into his plans.

ooh it's not a big deal at all! i hope you have fun, wonu <3

you see him come online instantly, and you're hit with panic. maybe you shouldn't have sent the heart. it was overstepping boundaries, wasn't it?

i'll make it up to you, princess ^^

god. he knows too damn well how to make your heart flutter.

or maybe you can come along and join the party? you already know seungcheol, right? it'll just be him and a couple of my other friends. jungkook and mingyu. they're really fun too hehe

the panic rises in your throat again. fuck. you remember exactly what happened the last time you joined a gaming party with wonwoo and seungcheol. and you've spent the entire last month trying to erase it from your memory, and if you could, really, from wonwoo's memory too. so you're pretty quick to turn him down.

nah i think i'll pass have fun tho!

and then you go offline to avoid spiralling into your thoughts, and get into studies. which is actually what you should be doing, instead of gaming with your crush anyway.

_

silence.

radio fucking silence.

there's just the pitter patter of the rain outside, but no replies from wonwoo.

i like hearing you laugh.

i'm glad i found you.

sweet girl friend.

it all feels like a lie when you stare for hours at the unseen, unread, unopened message that's staring back at you from your chat with wonwoo. it's almost night, one would think he could text back with a simple thank you after you'd spent half your pocket money on buying him the new character.

or maybe wonwoo is just like all the other boys. what did you even expect? that he'd be rolling over in gratitude after you buy him something he's been audibly craving for for weeks now? that he'd confess his love for you after you stupidly purchase something for him that has no real value?

get out of your damned imaginary world, y/n, you chide yourself mentally as you wipe the lone tear that has begun sliding down your cheek. but it doesn't make sense! after all these months of getting to know wonwoo, you simply can't believe it that he's this heartless that he won't even have the courtesy of replying back after almost an entire day of receiving the gift. and you know it's not an unwanted gift. and you also know wonwoo isn't the type to ghost you either! you'd think he's busy or caught up in something- but you can the little text next to his discord icon showing that he's been online today. then there's really no logical explanation left that can explain this kind of beha-

oh.

of course.

of course! he must have found out who you are. fuck. maybe during the delivery of the character, they must have shown him your email address or something to show them who's send him the gift. and that would be a total giveaway because your email address definitely contains your name. either he's put two and two together and matched princess with y/n, and naturally, instantly felt repulsed by you- hence the lack of response.

or.... (and this is honestly the worse option) he thinks you're just y/n who's sending him a birthday gift that miraculously coincides with something he really wants. oh my god. this really is much worse than the other alternative because now he thinks of you as a creep who can't even meet his eyes in class but must be stalking him and finding out about his gaming hobby.

another slow tear rolls down your cheek, and the phone drops from your hands and crashes down on the tiled floor, the screen cracking from side-to-side.

at this point, you should just drop out from school.

_

but of course you don't. monday comes round, and so does your period. you've never been more thankful for cramps before today. at least it saves you from the embarrassment of facing wonwoo. as you toss and turn in pain on your bed all day, trying fruitlessly to read your study material, your mind keeps going back to one face.

a single, delicately created face, with eyes that look alive. complete with a simple pair of metal glasses, shining against the spots of barely-there acne on two cherub cheeks.

you shake your head and dump your books on your lap. there's no point in this. it's a risk you've taken from the first day when you'd decided to hide from him instead of coming out as your true self. who knows, perhaps he wouldn't have rejected your friendship so blatantly then? instead, you try to sleep. maybe that'll help you feel refreshed.

but oh, you're not even left relieved in your sweet sleep. a single scene keeps replaying in your head as soon as you shut your eyes.

it was the first time you were in a live gaming party with voice unmuted. wonwoo, two of his friends, and two other friends from the common gaming server, smera and roy. he'd convinced you to switch on your mic because it was just friends who you trusted anyway. well, that was just the first mistake.

the second mistake had been, of course, to get comfortable enough with all of them to agree to play that silly truth and dare game. and then one thing had led to another, and a little bit of prodding from smera had ended up with you confessing that if there was anyone in this group who you'd kiss, it'd be wonwoo. if the mortification of that wasn't bad enough, smera had gone ahead and said that she'd even lowkey expected it. and within moments everyone else had forgotten your confession- it was as if they didn't even know how hard it had been to admit it- when rob confessed that he really want to kiss mingyu right now and the group started cheering.

the third mistake, and the worst one, had been staying on call with wonwoo after the party was over. "so you'd kiss me, huh?" he'd asked softly, his voice laced with a grin, as you'd blushed and thanked god he couldn't see you right now in your embarrassed live wire state. "among the others, yes. i don't know the others as well as i know you!" you'd rushed to explain, hoping your voice wasn't quivering as fast as your heartbeat. and then wonwoo had gone silent for a very long time, before saying, "and what if we knew each other outside this world, y/n? would you kiss me then?"

and then you hadn't been able to reply. you'd frozen in your spot, until wonwoo's shy laugh could be heard and he'd resumed the game.

you don't know if you could still reply today. perhaps it's the secret you'll hang for.

_

your excuse only lasts so long and eventually it's wednesday and you make your way out of bed. you've mentally lectured yourself enough times to know all the different things wonwoo might have to say to you and you've armed responses for most of them (although you think you're going to end up running away in almost all of them, forgetting your practiced response in the spur of the moment). your first class in mathematics, and you decide to arrive just a few minutes late so as to avoid any chance of conversation with wonwoo before class.

"oh y/n, you're finally here." your legs falter as you appear at the door of the classroom and find your teacher looking you straight in the eye. "sorry i'm late, ma'am!" "it's okay. i'd thought you'd be absent again." "i wasn't feeling well, ma'am, i'd mailed-" "yes yes i know," she nods her head impatiently. "it's good you came today. you'll have to start tutoring wonwoo from today itself. mid-terms are in two weeks, and i want his level to improve by then." "i thought seori...?" "seori isn't professional enough, from what wonwoo's told me."

it's only at this point that you realise that there's another pair of eyes focused on you in a piercing gaze. you know who it is, and you try your best to avert your glance.

not professional? you wonder what that may mean.

"fix up a timing for the sessions, and please don't disappoint me, y/n." she says the last bit with a pleading tone in her voice, and you wince. "alright, ma'am."

_

all through the class, there's only one thing playing in your mind on loop. you. wonwoo. in the tutoring room. alone. for the next two weeks. fix up a timing for the sessions. don't disappoint me. your lower lip wobbles and you can feel the tears inching in your eyes slowly. expectations. disappointment. aren't you just a disappointment to everyone? to your parents. to your teachers. to yourself.

even to wonwoo.

if you hadn't kept your head down for the entirety of the class, gazing at the sight outside the window, your attention completely unfocused from class, you would've noticed a figure turning to look at you whenever the teacher has her back to the class. but you don't notice him, so you don't realise his eyes fixed on you when you make a dash out of class as soon as the teacher leaves the classroom. you want to escape the inevitable for just another day- defer it, rather. you know it's going to be torture when wonwoo finally accosts you. as you make your way to a corner in the school, a secluded spot near the roof, where you've never seen anyone else going except yourself, a flurry of thoughts float in your head. all thoughts that should ideally deter you from running away. but you do it nonetheless, because you can't think straight. you feel the tangible cloud of these worries clog your throat as you hide in your favourite hideout corner and cover your face with your hands as you feel the fresh wind blow onto your heated skin.

he's going to hate you more now because you're delaying the academic help he deserves, simply because of your stupid nerves.

he's likely going to complain against you to the teachers, how you've taken academic responsibilities casually, and mar your good academic record and rapport with teachers. fuck, that's a further lower chance of getting the LORs you need.

he's also likely going to talk about what a creepy stalker you truly are in your mutual gaming circles, and you'll be ousted from the one safe space, your hobby, the one place where you've felt unjudged, the only place you can be yourself.

fuck. fuck. f-

"how long are you going to hide from me, princess?"

you freeze on spot. the voice is unmistakable, it's haunted your dreams long enough. you can feel a warmth in your periphery and you know he's right behind you. the hair on the back of your neck rise up into goosebumps and you know you've been caught.

you turn around slowly, your eyes fixed to the ground. you see wonwoo's sparkling white sneakers standing close to yours, and in the silence of this secluded spot, you can hear his breathing, slow and steady, completely contrasting your own shallow, frenzied breathing.

"i d- don't kn-know what you're t-talking a-about." you stutter through every word, your skin burning up with the keen awareness of wonwoo catching you red-handed.

"so that's how it going to be?" you can see his toes edge slightly forward, as if he's rocking in his shoes. and then you start to feel slightly less tensed. you start to focus on the tone he's using- it's not particularly menacing. in fact, it's not angry at all. which is surprising because-

"are you mad at me, princess?"

this time you look up, and you're hit with the force of wonwoo's beautiful eyes looking straight at you from barely any distance. with his height, he's easily towering over you, his glasses making his gaze more stern... and yet the way he's looking at you, it's so... soft? how odd that he's asking you if you're mad at him, when truly, it's quite the opposite.

"i sh-should be asking y-you that."

"me?" he tilts his head to one side in query, eyebrows furrowing. "i could never be mad at you."

your voice quivers as you speak the next words, "but you now know who i am."

"and?"

"that's why you're avoiding me!"

"that's true." you take a step back at his words. "so you do admit it, wonwoo?"

"i do. if you're referring to my lack of communication in this last few days, then it is true. i won't blame it on any excuse except my own conscious behaviour."

god. he's going to just say it like that. straightforward. no roundabouts. no sugarcoating. perhaps it's better like that. will save you the pain of hope after the heartbreak.

you look straight into wonwoo's eyes. "i get it, wonwoo. i've disappointed you. and you regret ever making friends with you. because i'm not popular, nor smart, nor attractive. you know how you'd wished if we could ever meet in real life? the truth is, now you're glad you didn't follow along that plan, otherwise you'd regret it terribly."

"i do regret it." he lifts his hand to brush your bangs out of your eyes. you almost jerk at his touch, but it's too gentle. when it gently wisps along your cheek, it feels... almost familiar. how cruel of him to do this before he's going to reject you outright. how cruel of him to give you a taste of heaven before leaving you heartbroken.

"why are you doing this, wonwoo? can't you leave me alone?"

his hand frames your cheek, cupping it barely, and you want to lean into his touch. when his cold palm slowly begins getting warmer through your touch, he speaks again. "i regret not meeting you sooner, princess. or rather, y/n. i regret not following up on that, y/n, because that way you'd never think such mean things about yourself. not just are you being mean to yourself, but also you're being mean to me!"

"to you?" your eyes grow wide, and a small smile plays on wonwoo's lips. "yes. you're not giving me a chance to explain myself. i'm sorry for disappearing on you after my birthday." he pauses, and you just raise your eyebrows, waiting for the explanation he's so desperate to give.

"yes, well. dumb move on my part. but then- i didn't know how to react after you sent that character to me!"

"how did you know it was me?"

"the mail id?"

"yes. damn, yes. i knew it."

he chuckles, "but i knew that you were princess long before that." "you did?" "seungcheol's sister goes to this school, you know? she'd recognised your voice immediately." you gasp at his words, "but you're still not letting me finish."

you take a step back, suddenly reeled back to reality. you try to move your face away from his hands, and his left hand drops from your cheeks, only to grab on to your wrist even as you step away. "i was stupid. i didn't know if you sending me the gift was... just friendly or something more. and just because i feel something more doesn't mean you will reciprocate it."

"what do you mean?" your voice is softer now, glazed with curiosity.

"the reason why i disappeared on you was because i needed time to think my way through with how i wanted to approach this with you. and convincing our math teacher to get you, her favourite student, to tutor me was the easiest way out ever." there's another chuckle, but your mind is spinning.

"approach what with me? wonwoo?"

he takes another step towards you, his hand slipping lower than your wrist and holding your palm now, inches away from locking his fingers around yours.

"i like you, y/n. don't you know that already?"

your mind whirls again, and you blink for a few seconds. "what?!" he blinks back at you, equally shocked. "i thought it was obvious, y/n. do you think i play games with any girl every night? share every life update with any girl every night? can't go to sleep without hearing the voice of any girl every night?"

"won-wonwoo..."

"so tell me now, please. spare me the heartbreak and tell me why you sent me that gift."

it feels surreal, but wonwoo's racing pulse against your fingers makes you realise that he's real. this is real. this is happening. wonwoo likes you.

"of course i like you wonwoo. i even told you i'd kiss you. wasn't that a giveaway enough?"

"you said that because i was the only one you'd kiss in a room full of other friends... but it didn't mean anything!" he's quick to protest, and your heart melts. maybe wonwoo is shier than you'd thought. so you take a step closer to him, and link your fingers into his finally. "well now you know what it means."

_

three bunked classes later, you and wonwoo make your way back to the main classroom area of the school. the rush of adrenaline in your body is insane right now, because you're holding hands with wonwoo. with wonwoo! you don't think you can believe it, so you keep looking down at your hands to make sure its real.

"i wish i'd met you before y/n. i was so desperate to know you more! it was so obvious," wonwoo's low giggles are music to your ears as he leans in to whisper his sweet words. "i thought that's why you kept running away from me." his hand slips out of your lock, and around your waist, pulling you in gently. you gasp at his move, and look around quickly to see if anyone's looking. but thankfully, there's no one in the corridors right now, so you let his hand remain there.

"i kept hiding because i was worried how you'd react on knowing the real me, won." "but i knew the real you already. sight isn't our only sense, you know." "yes, but i'm not-" "i don't care what you're not. there's so many things i'm not. and yet, you say that you like me. so what matters is you and me, don't you think?" you turn your head up to look at him, blushing at the fond look in his soft eyes. you want to hug him, pull him towards you and never let him go. but you settle for leaning closer into his body for now.

"i was promised a tutoring session, you know." he says slowly, as you realise you're both walking towards the isolated tutoring room of the school. it's empty right now, because it's still class hours. "do you want to be tutored now?" you raise your eyebrows, concerned at his wish to break out of this precious moment you're having and instead study. "i want to be in the tutoring room right now. there are no cctvs, see." you spin around to quickly check, blushing at the way he's whispering into your ear. but before you can turn back to him and reply, you feel a wet peck on your cheek, and your body bursts into flames.

jeon wonwoo just kissed you.

"wonwoo!"

"what? did you not like it?" he whispers, slightly alarmed.

"no! just! warn a girl before you do things like this, you know." you try to hide your blush furiously, but fail, as he wraps you into his embrace. "there are no other girls to warn. only you. and i don't need to warn you. because now you know i do things like this." and he leans in again, and before you realise, he's left a kiss on your nose. your heart races as you avert your gaze, and you're both erupting into giggles. "you're really a menace, jeon wonwoo." he cups your face with his hands, looking right into your eyes.

"and you're my princess, y/n."

[somethingvicked]

Don't want to miss a thing

An Eddie Munson one-shot.

Inspired by an anon ask for daddy Eddie!

warnings: female reader, baby teething, fluff, references to Flight of Icarus (Eddie's mother's name)

You were awakened to a shrill cry from the other room and sighed tiredly.

You loved being a mom and loved your daughter more than anything but waking up every other hour in the middle of the night wasn’t at the top of the list of the things you loved about it.

Your daughter, Lizzie, was teething and only fell asleep out of pure exhaustion and as soon as she had slept enough to be able to feel the irritation in her gums again she woke up and screamed.

You carefully untangled yourself from Eddie, whom was sleeping soundly on the other side of you, a protective arm over your waist, his nose all but buried in your hair.

Silently you walked into your daughter’s room, seeing her little face screwed up in frustration, as she chewed on her lip to get rid of the itching ache in her mouth.

”Come on, I know what’s better,” you said as you lifted her into your arms.

She looks so much like Eddie, flew through your mind, for probably the thousandth time, as you kissed Lizzie’s forehead. She was the spitting image of him – Robin had even commented, ”were you even present at conception, Y/N?” when the whole gang came and visited you at the hospital after you had given birth.

Her eyes may have been blue when she was born, as most newborns, but they gradually darkened to Eddie’s chocolate shade after just a couple of months. Her hair was dark, the same color as Eddie’s, and already curly, and she had his smile, the shape of his eyebrows.

She had your nose, though, and you supposed you should be grateful for that, to at least have her resemble you in some degree. You and Eddie had decided to name her Elizabeth, after Eddie’s mother. Elizabeth Arwen – the last one from Eddie’s favorite book series, Lord of the Rings. He had been ready to beg to get you to agree but in your opinion it was a pretty and unique name, so you happily went along with it.

You carried Lizzie with you to the kitchen and took out a pacifier from the freezer, warming it up by putting it into your own mouth at first, so it wouldn’t be completely frozen through, and then offered it to your daughter. She willingly opened her mouth and sighed in contentment when the chill eased the ache in her gums.

”There, that’s better, hmm?” you cooed and swayed with her, even though you couldn’t suppress a big yawn.

”I can take her if you want to sleep,” you heard a voice say behind you and almost jumped from the fright.

”Jesus, Eddie,” you said, voice full of laughter. ”Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Eddie snorted. He was dressed in his worn plaid pajama pants, bare chested, hair all tousled from sleep. Even though you were drained to the bone, you still felt your heart flutter at the sight of him.

”Come on, baby,” Eddie said again, ”you deserve some sleep, you’ve had to do most of the lifting all this time.”

That was true. Since you were on maternity leave and Eddie worked shifts at the car shop you had resigned yourself to take most of the burden when Lizzie woke at night.

”But what about work?” you wondered, bouncing your daughter on your hip.

”I’ve got some vacation days saved up. They’ll just be happy if I don’t use them all during the summer, when everyone else does. I could use a day to just be with my two favorite girls. ”

You nodded, warmth welling up inside you from his statement, and finally passed Lizzie over to him. She smiled at the sight of her dad, hands immediately going to his long hair, wanting to play with it.  You smiled too, seeing your beloved daughter with the love of your life.

”I’ll take her to her room, see if I can make her fall back asleep,” Eddie told you, stroking Lizzie’s back, as you turned around to go to your own bedroom.

You crawled into bed with a sigh, closing your eyes. Sleep was almost upon you when you heard a low, melodic sound penetrating the mist of slumber.

” I could stay awake just to hear you breathin'

Watch you smile while you are sleepin'

While you're far away and dreaming

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Where every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

Eddie. He was singing to Lizze.

His voice was low, it was obvious he was singing to soothe her into sleep, but it was still clear enough that you could hear him, making out the words. It brought tears to your eyes.

”Don't wanna close my eyes, I don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you, babe

And I don't wanna miss a thing

'Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream would never do

I'd still miss you, babe

And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

Lizzie was remarkably quiet – either she had fallen back asleep or she was as transfixed by her daddy’s voice as you were.

Your tiredness  forgotten, you got out of bed and padded down to Lizzie’s room, seeing Eddie sitting in the rocking chair with Lizzie in his arms, looking down into her eyes, eyes that were a complete copy of his.

“Lying close to you, feelin' your heart beating

And I'm wonderin' what you're dreamin'

Wonderin' if it's me you're seein'

Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we're together

And I just wanna stay with you

In this moment forever

Forever and ever.”

Lizzie was awake, you saw, but she was blinking repeatedly, as if she was fighting sleep, not wanting to miss the soothing sound of her dad singing to her.

Eddie looked up and saw you standing there. ”Honey? I thought you were asleep?”

”I was about to, but then something so beautiful called me over here,” you gently teased him. ”And this sight... it was worth it. I guess I’m like you – I don’t want to miss a thing.”

Eddie smiled, the most beautiful smile in the world, you thought, at least until your daughter had smiled at you for the first time. But then again, her smile was Eddie’s, so go figure.

Eddie continued the song, Lizzie’s eyes finally closing, her intense sucking and chewing on the pacifier slowing down as her breathing evened out.

Eddie whispered-sang as he got up from the rocking chair and carefully placed Lizzie back in her crib.

You wrapped your arms around Eddie’s middle, resting your chin against his arm as you two stood, watching your sleeping daughter.

“He has a point,” Eddie whispered as he pulled you tightly against him.

“Who?”

“Steven Tyler. The sweetest dream can’t possible match up to this.”

You couldn’t help but giggle quietly. Trust Eddie to be able to make a rock reference. But oh, how you loved him for it.

“No, I suppose that’s true. I really don’t want to miss a single thing with her. Or you.

“The feeling is mutual, baby,” Eddie promised you as you two quietly walked out of your daughter’s room and back to your own.

taglist: @h-ness1944 @quinnyficsy @jenniquinn @melodymunson @pandemoniusstuff

please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 14

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on the amazing @discoscoob 's concept & bot!

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelve. thirteen. fourteen.

Fifteen. 十五

As the first rays of dawn break through the window you start awake, your internal clock telling you it’s time to get up, even though you’ve set no alarm. 

You start to try to disentangle yourself from Donaka, but he only pulls you close again. “Where do you think you’re going?” he grumbles sleepily. 

“Work.” 

For some reason, he chuckles darkly at your answer. “Don’t be stupid. Go back to sleep.” 

You’re not sure what that means, but you relax back down into his arms. You close your eyes again, enjoying the haze of lazing in bed, snuggling, as unlikely a word that seems with a man like Donaka Mark–but you do not fall back asleep. You cannot stop wondering what he meant. Don’t be stupid. 

Well it’s too fucking late for that, you suppose. 

An hour later he stirs, running a possessive touch over your body, almost as though he’s taking inventory. You turn to find him looking at you with a small smile that makes your heart beat double-time in your chest, for some reason. What is he up to now?

“Shall we have breakfast on the terrace?” 

“Okay?” 

He is the boss. He reads the confusion in your expression, and you get the sense that he’s enjoying it too. 

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re fired as my housekeeper.” 

You blink in surprise at that.

“I am?”

“Yes. And if anyone ever asks for a reference, I will inform them that you bite.” 

You press your lips, unsure if he is now amused, or still mad about that. 

You do not, however, say that you’re sorry. 

“Then what…are you going to do with me?” 

“I’m going to take care of you, obviously.” 

At hearing that your blood runs cold. He presses his lips to yours, but you do not kiss him back, alarmed by his proclamation. This annoys him–he kisses you harder, weighing you down with his larger body, shifting on top of you. “Where is my sweetly begging little bunny from last night, hmm?” 

“She’s nocturnal,” you grouse, winning a snarl of a smile. 

“That’s fine. So am I.” 

But then he proceeds to contradict himself, using you as he likes for his own gratification, twisting you up like a pretzel while he fucks your bruised little hole. He does not offer you pleasure this time, and you do not ask for it. Your body is sated, and sore, and for once your mind is almost clear. 

He’s going to take care of you. 

What the ever loving fuck does that mean?

You find that you’re afraid to ask just yet, and you watch him quit the bed, stalking into the bathroom for a shower. He does not ask you to join him, so you are relieved to lie there, alone, and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes of peace. 

***

After your own ablutions you join Donaka on the terrace, wearing a robe you found that seemed to match your lovely new nightgown. He pays you a steely look from across the table, and you are not sure if you’re in trouble again or not. 

There is fresh fruit, boiled eggs, congee rice porridge, and tea on offer. You take some slices of mango and pour yourself a cup while you wait to see what your future holds. 

“Well?” he demands, clearly still annoyed. “Aren’t you going to ask about the new terms of your existence here?” 

You find you are grateful, for some ridiculous reason, that he does not say employment. 

“You like to play god, don’t you?” you ask instead, taking a sip of tea. “Always watching, and pulling everyone’s strings...”

You do not expect this observation to please him. The smile he pays you isn’t exactly nice, but it’s better than one of his thunderous frowns. 

“Why play at god when you may as well be one?” 

Wow.

You raise your eyebrows to that, but give no answer, sitting back a little in your chair with your cup of tea. You look at him from across the table, feeling strangely zen about whatever he’s going to say next. Resigned, perhaps. But also you realized, while you were taking your shower, washing away the remnants of his essence on you and inside you, that you will never beat this man with force. Your only hope will be to go with the flow, and see what opportunity arises. 

You are not hard like stone like he is, so you must be water instead.

Easier said than done, because you think the element that comes most naturally to you in a crisis is fire. 

“Very well. Do enlighten me.” 

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly not enjoying this brave face you’re putting on. He’s a bully, at his core. He wants a reaction, and you don’t feel like giving it to him. 

“Come here,” he demands, holding out a hand. 

Your stomach lurches. 

“I’m fine over here.”

“You want to play this game again?”

You think about the ridiculous game of chase you played the day before. Then you imagine pushing Donaka over into the koi pond, and you crack a spiteful little smile. “Maybe.” 

He, however, is looking out over the steep ledge of the terrace with some concern. “You’re not foolish enough to harm yourself out of protest, I hope? It won’t work.”

You snort in answer. “I don’t like being in pain, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Maybe, but your tolerance for it is admirable.” 

Hearing that should not make you feel as proud as it does. 

Water, you remind yourself. Flow, bitch flow. 

Rolling your eyes, you stand from your place to go crawl into his lap. His big hands on your thighs pull you closer, settling your body just so–and there is that kindling flame inside you again. Godammit. 

“Alright, darling,” you sigh in the bend of his neck, entirely too comfortable for your own good. “Tell me your evil plan.” 

Like flipping a switch he laughs, delighted with your sass again. “Maybe I should just keep you locked up in my room,” he muses into your hair, nibbling at your ear. “Perhaps that would tame you properly.”  

“Or perhaps I would chew through the fucking drywall,” you retort, and you feel his laughter more than hear it. 

“Watch that filthy mouth.” 

“I think you like my filthy mouth.” 

“For some things.” The look he levels at your lips should not send a frisson of heat across your skin. Suddenly you swear that if someone sprayed you with water you would steam. You definitely have a screw loose. 

“I’m willing to give you run of the house,” he tells you, sliding fingers down your thigh. “And if you behave yourself, I will arrange for a proper escort to accompany you on outings while I’m at work during the day.” 

“Like…a babysitter?”

“The person I have in mind was Chinese Special Forces, but sure. Call her a babysitter to her face. See where that gets you.” 

You grumble a little into his neck, but not like you mean it. This is interesting. Because leaving the house…means opportunity. 

“Fine.” 

“Fine?” He actually sounds surprised, clearly having expected you to fight him more. But you know if you resist him…he will lock you up, and then you will be up the proverbial creek.

“For now.” This wins the wicked smirk that signals he’s having fun again. And maybe…you are too, which is a whole other forbidden box you don’t really want to get into. 

“As if you have a choice.” 

“I am aware you have me over a barrel, dear.” The dark chuckle he directs into the bend of your neck should not make your clit purr the way it does. 

“Now there’s an idea.” 

“Ugh.” 

“Hmm.” He kisses your jaw, grazing your cheek with his teeth. You let him, laying passive in his arms. 

“But…what am I supposed to do with myself all day?” 

It’s not as though you like working, but...it’s what you do here. He scoffs at this. “Anything you want. Write. Peruse the library, Use the gym. Anything but sitting around eating potato chips.”

“Damn.” 

He pinches your thigh, making you squirm in his lap. “What is it with you and junk food?”

“Not all junk food. Just fried potatoes.” 

“Hmm,” he growls. 

“Oh come on. Tell me you don’t have a favorite food that you can’t resist?” He narrows his eyes at you, and you nibble his neck. “I bet you do...” you singsong playfully.

“Watch those teeth.” 

So you lick him instead, and he frowns at you, though not in his usual forbidding way. “I should put you over my knee again,” he grumbles, his hand disappearing beneath your nightie, squeezing the curve of your sore behind. You are turning into a wet little mess all over again, sitting in his lap like this, and you hate yourself all the more for it. 

“I haven’t done anything!” you protest, and maybe it’s the genuine note of fear in your tone that satisfies him. 

“Maybe not yet, but I know you will.”

“You can’t spank me for projected infractions. That’s not how punishment works.” 

The smile he gives you is all fang. “You want to lecture me on how punishment works?”  

You whimper, hiding in the bend of his neck–and it’s not for show. You really are pathetic. 

He lets you, stroking your hair for a good minute like the pet you are, before answering your earlier question: “It’s possible…I could eat my body weight in shumai.” 

Imagining this forbidding man excited about yum cha, drinking tea and eating delicious dumplings Hong Kong style, is surprisingly…endearing. 

You imagine what it might be like to go eat together at a restaurant, like a normal couple. Which is stupid, because you certainly are not. 

Just because he was willing to let you go out with a bodyguard–a keeper, more like–didn’t mean he planned to be seen in public with you. How would that go, if you ran into one of his high flying acquaintances in the city? What do they do, when the wealthy encounter each other in the wild with their mistresses? Do they exchange a wink and a nod? A pat on the back and a well done ol’ boy? The thought of being regarded as a sex object in public makes you clench your jaw again. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks, almost as though he can hear the gears in your sad little brain grinding. 

What can you say to him? That in a fleeting moment of lunacy, you wish he was actually your boyfriend? 

That you wish he actually cared about you?

You know you have to tell him something, so you force out past the lump in your throat, “I like shumai too.”

He hears it, of course. There’s no getting one over on this laser-focused man. You tell yourself that it is some cruel joke of the universe that he is so attuned to your emotions, yet somehow does not truly care about how you feel.  

“What’s wrong?”

You shrug. “This is all…a lot to process,” you deflect, which isn’t in fact a lie. 

“Is it? I think deep down, you knew where this was headed.” 

You dare to let out a shaking sigh. 

“You can mope and feel sorry for yourself,” he muses with his lips against your temple. “Or you can accept it, and enjoy it for what it is. It’s your choice.”

Easy for him to say. 

Another dark thought occurs to you, and before you can stop yourself you ask in a whisper, “And what happens when you get tired of me?”   

“Good question, little one. I suppose you’d better make sure I don’t get bored.” 

It feels like a threat, and in that moment you cannot fathom he would ever let you go free. You don’t really know anything incriminating, aside from what he’s done to you. Technically, it’s a crime, though women are treated badly all the time to little or no consequence, especially for men like him. All he’d have to do is present your notebook as evidence of your complicity. But a part of you just knows he wouldn’t let it go that far…he’d never let you just walk away.  

You sigh again, and then unexpectedly–you laugh. At the absurdity of all this, and at your own stupidity.  

“Is something funny?” 

“It’s just…does it ever feel like we really are doomed to become our parents?” 

You never aspired to be a kept woman, but your mother was another story. You think it’s the whole reason she even had you, blindsiding your wealthy father with a pregnancy after a fling and milking it for all it was worth. You always had an understanding as a child that you were a meal-ticket first, and her daughter second. Strangely your father had never actually treated you badly, though he’d never really been present in your life either. You rarely saw him, the court-ordered summers you spent at his home. Mostly his third wife, and your half-sisters, who were all too happy to make your life a living hell. 

This is far enough off base that you think you surprise him into giving you a real answer. 

“I never knew my father,” Donaka admits. “He left my mother when we were very young.” 

This shouldn’t pull at your heartstrings for him the way it does. “We?” 

There’s a very long pause, before he admits, “I have a sister.” 

“Where are they?” 

He lifts an eyebrow at you now. “Somewhere else.” 

“Do you ever see them?” 

“No.” You hope he’ll elaborate, but he remains silent.

“Why not?” 

He seems amused by your prying. “Why are you on the opposite side of the globe from your family, y/n?” 

You shrug. Part of the answer is that you like adventure. The other reasons are a can of worms you do not want to open right now–same as him, you suppose. 

“I’ve seen your mother’s Facebook page. She is a ridiculous woman.” 

For some reason you find it hard to imagine Donaka Mark, on the iPad he carries around, social media snooping. “What do you mean you’ve seen her Facebook page?” 

“You can’t be surprised that I would check into your background. It’s so easy, in this digital age.” 

You’re not sure why the thought of Donaka Mark looking over your Facebook mortifies you. All your trip photos, and stupid memes, and existentialist Bourdain-esque travelog pieces that make you want to bury yourself in a hole these days, but still you keep them. Your old boyfriends, who still try to talk to you now and then, realizing what they lost much too late. Your assorted cousins who occasionally reach out before disappearing into the ether of their own lives again, and your half-sisters who all wish you were dead so they possibly don’t have to split their father’s money four ways someday. It’s not something you’ve ever banked on.  

 “I guess…you must find me ridiculous too.” 

Inexplicably his hold upon you tightens a little. “No.” He speaks softly against your temple. “What I meant, is that you seem nothing like her.” 

You’re not sure if he knows it, but it’s possibly the nicest thing he’s ever said to you, and your grip on his arms involuntarily tightens. This man is just full of surprises, it seems.  

“So…was this…development the surprise you were talking about yesterday?” you dare ask. You suppose the announcement of not having to work anymore could be considered a prize, though you’re not sure you like the trade off. 

“No.” 

“Oh.” 

He’d just planned this all along, regardless. Lovely. 

The silence between you stretches on, until strangely he breaks. “Don’t you want to know what it is?” 

“Is? I thought it was all past tense now.”

“It should be,” Donaka agrees. “Look at this.” 

He pulls up the loose sleeve of his robe to show you your handiwork on his forearm. The distinct imprint of your teeth, some broken skin, and a fabulous purple bruise. You trace the outline of the bite feather-lightly, morbidly fascinated by your mark on his skin. He watches you with an attention you perhaps should be wary of. 

“You like it, don’t you? You bloodthirsty little thing.” He kisses you, a sweet, full-mouthed affair that melts your insides, until it ends in his teeth clamped upon your lower lip, biting just this side of too hard. You whimper in alarm, and he laughs wickedly, releasing you. 

“Hmm. I’ll get you back, bunny.” There is a heat in his eyes you don’t entirely understand. 

If he’d voiced it, he would have told you that the thought that he is already corrupting you into something more like him, excites him. 

“No, thank you.”

This amuses him, but he tips you out of his lap with a pat on your behind that turns into a squeeze. “Finish your breakfast, naughty girl.” 

He says nothing more about your surprise, and you do not bring it up again, deciding it’s better not knowing.

[nqueso-emergency]

"They aren't doing hidden messages because 'this isn't prestige TV.'"

No offense to people making this argument because I get what they're trying to say but I am not a fan of it. It makes it seem that if this show aspired to be a "better" or more prestigious show all the "signs" Buddies are seeing would lead to somewhere.

And that's just not true. "Prestige" shows might have more of a plan and do more to layer in themes and literary references, but even they don't bury their "clues" as deeply as Buddies need to go to get "gay Eddie."

Ironically, Buck's coding is probably similar to what a "prestige" show would do. They never had super obvious tells like Buck ogling a man or having a tension-filled pause where it seemed like he wanted to kiss him.

Instead, they've done things like having TK think Buck was hitting on him. Or give Buck significant moments with queer rescues. Even in the elf scene, by the time she said, "You have a beautiful family," Eddie and Chris had already walked away. She said that only TO BUCK. If they're going to interpret "color theory", then they can't ignore that choice. Those moments presented Buck as potentially open to seeing himself in a same-sex relationship. Other interpretations existed, but there weren't many alternatives. All of Eddie's "clues," like "Catholic guilt" or feeling like he's not being authentic in a relationship, have many other explanations. They could be a part of a queer arc IF coupled with other clues. However, the other clues related to Eddie point to different reasons for feeling disassociated with parts of his life.

Thank you for sharing your viewpoint with us, anon!! ❤️

[creative-kny-fics]

HII! I don't know if you are accepting requests at this time, but if so, I would like to request lee!Giyuu, Ler! Kyojuro, they are so cute! It is one of my favorite ships and friendships (besides the sanegiyuu) you can refer to the image you uploaded before. Please and thank you!!!!

Sure! (I need to do this)

Ler: Kyojuro Rengoku

Lee: Giyuu Tomioka

Love is strange, isn't it? A couple formed by an introverted person and an extroverted person, or also called, a sun and moon dynamic.

Despite people's opinions, the love of this couple was unbreakable, there was no jealousy, no fights, no misunderstandings, just love, love and nothing but love.

'Have I ever told you that I feel like the luckiest man, Tomioka?'

'For having me by your side?'

'Yes!', Kyojuro hugged his lover, who was sitting on his lap.

Giyuu Narrates: Since I started my relationship with Rengoku, I was ashamed and afraid, everything I loved, I lost.

My sister, my best friend, some companions I made during my time as a lower-ranking hunter, I lost everything.

I couldn't believe that someone like him would notice me, I felt bad, to a certain point, I, I loved him, but I didn't believe I deserved that love, Rengoku deserved someone better.

'Tomioka? Are you okay?', he asked me, but I didn't answer, I think that made him attract me more.

Even though he loved to talk, he was able to maintain silence, just because I didn't want to talk.

I can't help but sometimes get into my thoughts like I'm doing now, I felt like anything that came out of my mouth would ruin everything or could be misunderstood, I didn't want that, I didn't want to lose him...

Kyojuro Narrates: Giyuu, he is someone who is too shy, he is so quiet and his voice is so light that you must be completely silent to hear him, but still, I couldn't help but feel that sometimes, he was afraid, maybe it was me?

We've never talked about the past, personally, I don't care about that and if Giyuu won't open up to me about it, why would I "force" him to?

It is better to focus on the present after all, but, sometimes, I would like him to tell me what he thinks, maybe there is something that I am doing wrong or that he is afraid of, but I want him to get out of it, without being something forced, something natural.

'Tomioka...'

'Why do you like me?'

'Huh?'

That was strange, but it didn't make me angry, I always liked to remind him how much I loved him, so I was cute that he asked that question.

Seeing his cheeks blush slightly and how his eyes seem to shine, like the reflection of light in the sea, how he hides his face and looks away, pretending not to have liked my comment, everything about him is perfect in my point of view, even if he doesn't think he feels that way

'Why? I don't know, there are so many things that attract me to you. Your beautiful eyes, your hair that contrasts with them, your pale skin because I can always tell when you blush, your beautiful smile, although I very rarely see it, I consider it to be the best in the world. Should I continue?'

'Is there more where that came from...?'

'I have a huge list!', oh well.

Giyuu settled better on his chest, closing his eyes when Kyojuro began to caress his cheeks, he didn't know why, but he had always liked that light sensation.

Rengoku smiled and placed a kiss on his forehead, chuckling when Giyuu groaned in embarrassment and hid further into his chest, trying to cover the growing blush, too bad he couldn't stop it from going to his ears.

Giyuu Narrates: Now I understand why so many people adore Rengoku, he is such a good person, just one of his hugs comforts you, it feels so warm to be between them and the sensation is so pleasant that you don't want to separate.

His caresses and touches are so light, it brings back so many memories, memories that make me cry, but somehow, no tears come out of my eyes, although, do I confess something?

Lately, since I started being with Rengoku, has my heart been melting? Can I consider it like that? I don't know, but I think it would explain well the fact that it makes it easier for me to cry, but not with anyone, only with him and no one else but him.

'Giyuu, is everything okay darling?'

'Why do you said so?'

'You're... Crying...', the blonde commented, drying his lover's tears.

Kyojuro narrates: Tomioka, I always knew there was something with him, there was an internal pain that constantly accompanied him, but, I never dared to ask him, I didn't feel that it was right.

But now, we are a couple and there must be trust between us, right? Of course, I don't want to force him, I just want to help him, perhaps it sounds somewhat contradictory to my previous thoughts, but that's how thoughts are, right?

They vary after a few seconds...

'Tomioka, if there is something I have done wrong...'

'You never do anything wrong. You're the best I've ever had and that's what I'm afraid of...'

"That's what I'm afraid of"? I don't understand, maybe he doesn't like me and he only said it so he wouldn't hurt me? No, he wouldn't be able to, I know him, there is another reason, but what is it...?

'Everything I love, I lose...'

Giyuu Narrates: Wow, that, that felt so, comforting? Yes, I think that's the term... Before, I had not discussed this with anyone, I preferred to keep what I felt to myself because no one had to be bothered by my problems.

Sabito, Tsutako-Nee-San, I'm sorry for my change, but how do you expect me to remain that innocent child after everything I've been through? Yes, there are people who go through worse, but, I, I am weak, despite my physical strength, I am weak...

'Giyuu Tomioka...'

'Huh? You've never called me by my full name... Did I do something wrong?'

'Yes.', oh...

Kyojuro Narrates: Maybe, I shouldn't have used that tone, the little shine I had seen before had disappeared, oh no, this is wrong.

'Why did you never tell me?'

'Why would you be interested?'

'Why? Because I love you, because I want to be part of your life, because I want to help you get ahead, I want us both to do it, but I can't do it if you close yourself off so much. I don't want to force you, I just, I just want you to trust me, trust me, Tomioka...?'

'I will, Rengoku...'

That was something easy, but, oh god, I was afraid, what if I lost him? At least now I'll know a little more about him, maybe not now, but in time...

That's fine, I'll wait until old age if I have to, because that's what love is about, or at least that's what my mother taught me...

'Would you mind if I told you another time?'

'Of course not, honey, I want you to feel ready, nothing forced, okay?'

'Thank you... For everything... Seriously...'

He is, without a doubt, so beautiful... So pure... I love him so much, even if I am dreaming, I would sleep forever so that this does not end

Giyuu Narrates: Why am I this lucky? Do I deserve it? Tsutako-Nee-San, you always had a relationship like that, so calm, serene, without problems, just love and affection, and you gave it up for me...

Maybe, after so much pain, a little joy never hurts or yes? Yes, I think you two would have liked it for me...

'Kyojuro...'

'Hey, you called me Kyojuro... What's wrong? Is it okay if I call you Giyuu?'

'Surely... It would bother you if... You know... You do that...?'

'What exactly?'

Damn, why was it so hard for me to say that word? He must know, I know him too much to know his reactions, he just wants me to tell him, but how could I? I can't even say the word without...

'Giyuu, hehehe, your cheeks... They look so cute when adorned with that reddish color. Or maybe pink?'

'Shut up, my cheeks are not red, much less pink'

'You're right, it's not just your cheeks... Your ears too!'

Kyojuro Narrates: Isn't he cute? God, if anyone else saw it, their heart would also be as captivated as mine.

I know exactly what he wants, but, it sounds so nice when he asks me, I can't just do it and miss out on that opportunity, it doesn't always happen, so, the few times it does, it's always a gift to me.

'So? What is it?'

'The, the thing, the tingly thing...'

'What? 'Do you want ants?'

'Noooo...'

Hehehe, so cute when he blushes like that and covers his face, while kicking in embarrassment, so beautiful, so innocent, so unique...

'So? Do you want me to guess?'

'Rengoku, do you know what I want, why do you like to make me suffer like this...?'

'Because you sound so cute when you do it, do you really want that?'

'Yes... Please...'

"Please"? How cute, God, it makes me want to squeeze him with my love, although I always do it hehehe

Giyuu Narrates: There are times when I feel like I'm talking to a child, in the body of an adult, but I can't deny that I like it, I like how it pampers me.

'E-ehehehe... Ky-Kyo-Kyohojuhuroho!'

'Remember if it's too much for you, you can tell me, I don't want to do something that bothers you'

Man, this man is a real tickle monster, but a very attentive one, he really knows how to make me laugh, he just need a few kisses in my ears and neck, of course, nothing with ulterior motives, dirty minds.

'Rehengohokuhu! Ahahaha!'

'Is there something bothering you, honey?'

'Noooo! Juhuhust, oh mahahan, I cahahan't!'

'Aren't you the cutest little thing in the world? How cute, you have no idea how much happiness it gives me to see your beautiful smile and hear your beautiful laugh, it is the best gift I can have. I love you so much, you're so cute!'

Oh man, why this...?

Kyojuro Narrates: I feel like my heart is beating a mile an hour, since I discovered that Tomioka, or rather, Giyuu was incapable of handling teasing, I felt even more in love, can he stop liking or captivating me for a single moment?

Should I tell you something? There are times when he usually whispers things to me and I don't know why, but I laugh, even if he hasn't said anything to me, that's why many times I like to do the same and take a few bites of his ears, I like his squeal of embarrassment, to be honest.

'Do you need a break? Maybe, to stop me, change spots, strategy? You know I don't mind doing it, or maybe you want me to continue? I know very well that, deep down, you love when people tickle you!'

'Please! Pleheahasehehe!! Dohohohon't tehasehe meeee! I cahahan't! Kyohohoho!!'

'Aaaaw, your laugh is so contagious! Also, you're laughing more, does this tickle you~? What should I call you? Giggle bug? Mr. ticklish? What, you don't like it? Hahaha, hey! Why do you cover your face?'

'Stohohohoooop!'

It makes me so cute to see him, how he covers his face with his hands and kicks. I know him well and I know that, indirectly, he asks me to continue, and who am I to refuse such charms?

'Can we play something?'

'O-okahay... But... No teasing... I don't think I can tolerate it'

'I swear, love, and you swear to me that you will tell me if something bothers you, okay?'

'...I swear...'

His emotion is obvious, despite everything, he tries to maintain his "reserved" personality, hehehe, how cute

Giyuu Narrates: What was I thinking when I accepted? I mean, obviously, I wanted something, I knew he would respect my limits, but, oh man, I've never been good at this tickling game, I don't hate it, but I find it impossible to keep my composure.

'1, 2, 3 or 4?'

'Huh? Well, still won't you tell me the option I chose... Mmm... 2?'

'Good! Maybe you know it, it's a classic! Itsy bitsy spider...~'

Well, I regret having accepted, it was obvious that there would be an indirect mockery, Kyojuro chooses songs where you have to sing, damn, why didn't I choose another number?

Did he have to go straight to my ribs? He knows well that I am incapable of tolerating tickling there, and that with just a few squeezes, he will have me begging for mercy...

'Ple-plahahasehehe!!'

'I haven't even started hahaha! I've barely said the name of the game and you're already laughing! Hahaha, your blush is so cute! Can I start or do you need more time?'

'You can start... I guess...'

'Okay, but remember to tell me if it's too much for you, although I know you'll like it after all and ask for more!'

'HEY.'

But what a shame...

Kyojuro Narrates: Why must this man be so cute?! Just a few squeezes on his ribs and I felt how he squeezed my uniform hard, I must admit, the fact that he hides his face in my chest makes his hair rub against my neck and tickle me a little hehehe, but it doesn't bother me, it just It lets me know that I'm doing my job well.

'Oh my gohohohod! Tohoho muhuhuch!! Pleheahasehehe!! A minute! A mihinutehehehe!!!'

'Okay okay, I'll stop~'

Did I tell you or not? It only took me a few squeezes to make him hysterical, his sensitivity is so captivating

'Do you need me to stop? Maybe...'

'3'

'Huh? Oh, I see! Well, okay, if that's what you feel most comfortable with...'

'Why do I feel like I'm going to regret it a little...?'

'I don't know, but if it bothers you, feel free to tell me and I'll stop!'

Wow, either Tomioka is an only child or he is the younger brother, because it seems that someone, whose role has been that of an older brother, can make him scream in a few seconds hahahaha!

This brings back so many memories, I just hope it doesn't bother him, I wouldn't want to do something that makes him uncomfortable and lose the privilege of encouraging him this way whenever he wants or when he feels uncomfortable.

'I might kick you...'

'Then we'll both have to be careful hehehe. If it bothers you...'

'You can tell me, I know, you don't have to remind me every moment, I'm older than you...'

'And? That doesn't mean I can't pamper you or treat you like a baby~'

'Stoooop...'

I'm having cuteness overload, Giyuu Tomioka is so precious!

Giyuu narrates: Gods, why? What need does Rengoku have to make fun of me? I mean, it doesn't bother me, I know he doesn't do it with malice and I like it, but that, aaaaaah damn thoughts, why?!

'Grkh!'

'Oh my! Hehehe, so soon? Oh wow, you're more ticklish than I imagined and I love that about you~'

'Shut... U-uhuhuhup!!'

'Honey, I just ran my finger along the sole, are you okay?'

'Y-yeah... Y-you ahahaha ca-cahahan Co-coho-cohontin-nuhuhue!! Let me finish the sentence!!'

'Aaaaw, I just can't! You're so cute!'

I still want to understand, why Rengoku insists that I'm "cute"? Personally, I don't consider myself that, but he must have seen something to call me that, right?

I shouldn't even be thinking, I should be trying to stop myself from laughing at the tickling, but, my mind gets cloudy every time I get tickled, oh god... This won't be good... Please help...

Kinda inspiration in:

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