#so orange face smudges it is!
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I have had this post in my drafts for so long and I finally got to it
Thank you @yorshie for another fun drawing idea( ^∀^)
#literally started drawing him with his regular mask and realized he probably wouldn’t have it#so orange face smudges it is!#can you tell I kind of threw Hana in there? was definitely more excited to draw the little feral boi#turtle Tarzan-he#tmnt#tmnt art#tmnt hana#hanashi#my art#tmnt fanart#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt bayverse#bayverse turtles#bayverse mikey#bayverse michelangelo#bayverse tmnt#tmnt 2014#tmnt 2016#tmnt x oc#tmnt doodles#tmnt fandom#art 4 others
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the look of love | collection
RAFE CAMERON meets the new art teacher.
includes fem!teacher!reader / uncle!rafe / reader goes by "miss sugar" / fluff / grumpy x sunshine / family dynamics / safe to read! / wc 1.5k
Sarah already had her own family. Two rascals, Jackson and Josie. Meanwhile, Rafe didn’t. He had no kids. Nada. Zero. And he planned to keep it that way for a while.
As much as he loved his niece and nephew, they depleted his desire to have any. They were both rowdy and talkative and an awful lot like their parents.
It scared him.
He didn’t need more John B’s and Sarah’s walking the earth. Those little devils.
And yet, he was on his way to pick them up from school.
He never had to before. It was typically JJ, Kie, or anyone who wasn’t him. But apparently, the Pogues were more swamped than usual and had a ‘customer issue’ at their little Surf Shop. Whatever that meant.
Safe to say, Rafe wasn’t too thrilled about it. He was a busy man—the CEO of Cameron Development, to be exact. Children didn’t fit in his schedule. At least, that was what he told himself on the lonelier, quieter days. But family was family, as his dad always said. So, when his sister had called him, pleading, he reluctantly agreed.
When he pulled into the pick-up zone, driving along the curb, he spotted his niece and nephew. They were hard to miss, not only because they were the only kids in front of the school, but because of the woman accompanying them. You.
With the sweetest smile Rafe had ever seen, you stood between them, hands clasped behind your back, your eyes darting between the two children as they talked over each other.
Rafe stopped in front of them and rolled the windows down. The youngest of the two, Josie, was the first to notice.
An exaggeratedly loud gasp left her lips, her eyes wide. “Uncle Rafe!”
That set off a chain reaction.
Jackson looked up, his brows furrowed. “Uncle Rafe?”
Rafe didn’t know if he should feel offended.
Then, your gaze shifted away from the kids, meeting his eyes through the passenger window. Time slowed. He saw your smile soften, and you waved at him. His heart lurched out of his chest, the feeling foreign and borderline uncomfortable.
What the fuck?
But he didn’t have time to dwell on the feeling as his niece and nephew rushed towards his car.
“Uncle, uncle, uncle,” Josie chanted, panting like she ran a mile. “You’re pickin’ us up?”
Jackson stared at him with narrowed eyes. “You never pick us up.”
Damn, what was this kid’s problem?
“Yes, Josie. And, well, they’re busy at the Surf Shop,” Rafe sighed, unlocking the car doors to let them in. “So, you guys got me for today.”
Through the rearview mirror, he watched the children clamber into the vehicle, feet kicking and hands flying as they argued about trivial matters—I always sit on the left side! So? I got in first. You’re being a butthead! I’m telling mommy you called me a butthead!—and so on. He chuckled, his lips curving into a grin.
Suddenly, you spoke, “They’re special, huh?”
Your voice was warm and inviting. He didn’t know a person could sound so lovely.
When Rafe looked at you, he forgot how to speak. Every word he knew? Gone. And you barely did anything. You were just standing before the passenger door, staring back at him. He couldn’t help but notice the smudge of orange paint on the bridge of your nose.
“Yeah, definitely,” he ultimately said, nodding.
You extended your right hand out to him through the open window. He saw more dried paint on your fingertips. “I’m Miss Sugar, the new art teacher here.”
Ah, that explained it.
“Rafe.” He shook your hand, his eyes locked on your face. Your hand felt soft but far from fragile. “Rafe Cameron.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” you beamed.
Did you ever stop smiling? Your cheeks should be hurting at this rate.
He nodded, letting go of your hand before he looked like a creep. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
“Oh, Uncle Rafe,” Josie called, rummaging through her backpack, “me and Jackson made a paper chain thingy with Miss Sugar! Look, this one’s you!”
He turned his head, eyes squinting at the paper doll chain she held up. Josie explained they made it during the after-school program, where she and Jackson spent a few extra hours each day. There were nine cut-out paper dolls, with what he assumed to be Josie at the start and him at the end. It was rough around the edges, but what did Rafe expect from a five-year-old? And the longer he stared at it, Rafe figured he was a last-minute addition, his hand glued to Sarah’s doll, the paper there wrinkled.
From the corner of his eye, he saw you tilt your head into his car, looking at the kids. You seemed proud. It made him wonder what it felt like to have someone be proud of him.
“That’s really nice.” Rafe looked at his niece, who grinned brightly at his praise. He then stared at the frowny face drawn on his doll. “Why’s everyone smiling except for me?”
“Because you’re always grumpy,” Jackson replied bluntly.
Little Josie slapped a hand over her mouth and erupted in giggles. Of course, his nephew was the one behind it.
Seriously, did this kid have a vendetta against him?
“Okay, you—” Rafe caught sight of your amused expression, and he bit back his words, “—I’m not always grumpy.”
You tried to cover up your laugh with a cough. “Yeah, he doesn’t look grumpy right now,” you defended, though it was far from convincing. Then you shot him a wink, and the gears in his mind stuttered and fell apart. Were you flirting with him? Or was it more of an ‘I got your back’ sort of wink?
Fuck, why did he even care? He needed to pull himself together.
“Anyways, I have to get back now,” you sighed, and the kids protested almost immediately. He saw a frown tug on your features, and you moved to the backseat window, cooing a mix of ‘I know’ and ‘I wish I could stay longer’ that eased their complaints. Eventually, you moved to the passenger window again, telling him a sweet, “Get home safe.”
Rafe felt himself having to fight back a smile. “Thanks.”
You pursed your lips, your fingers tapping the window seal. “Don’t be a stranger, Rafe Cameron,” you said, stepping back from his car.
Jackson and Josie shouted their goodbyes to you before he could respond, but your words rang in his ears. Don’t be a stranger. He watched you wave to him and the kids before turning on your heel, your long skirt dancing around your legs as you made your way to the school’s entrance. Once you disappeared behind the door, he eased off the brake and pulled out of the pick-up zone.
As Rafe drove the kids home, the wind whipped through the open windows, the music on the stereo hummed softly, and his niece and nephew whispered to each other in the backseat. What about? He didn’t know, nor did he want to know. But he suspected they were up to no good.
Josie cleared her throat with an over-the-top ahem, ahem! “Uncle Rafe?”
“What?”
She didn’t waste another second. “What you think of Miss Sugar?”
Rafe stared hard at the road. He had many thoughts about you: beautiful, messy, stunning, smiled too much, gorgeous.
“Uh, she seems nice,” he answered, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “Why?”
“Just wondering!” Josie chirped.
Silence fell between them.
He thought that would be it, and then he heard more whispering. Dread flooded his body. Rafe tweaked the stereo volume higher. They hadn’t caught that you piqued his interest, right? No, that would be ridiculous. They were kids. They would be none the wiser.
At least, he thought so until his niece asked, “Do you think she’s pretty?”
No wonder the Pogues called her Nosy Josie. It all made sense now. And, of course, he thought you were pretty. Who wouldn’t?
Rafe sucked in a breath, scratching his brow. “I’m not answerin’ that.”
Jackson grumbled, “I told you, Josie.”
“You didn’t!”
And a new argument ensued. But for once, Rafe was content listening to their high-pitched shouts because that meant the attention was off him. He didn’t want to be pestered about you any further. If Josie had kept pushing, he feared he would be sent down a rabbit hole, you consuming his thoughts.
But maybe he had already fallen down the rabbit hole. He was just too busy denying it.
Soon, Rafe arrived at their home, and the kids hopped out of his car and ran to their parents. Sarah thanked him for picking them up as John B took them inside—Josie sat on his hip, with Jackson walking beside him. He brushed it off, even offering to pick them up from school more often. His sister looked surprised and a little skeptical, but she didn’t question his change of heart.
While Rafe Cameron didn’t have time for children, he could make time for you.
sunnie speaks! i realized miss sugar is barely in this WHOOPS!!! but i hope you guys found his dynamic w jackson and josie fun, haha! i sure had a fun time writing it :D let's chat about rafe cameron / teacher!reader
if you like my work, consider following @sunniefics to stay up to date on all my future fics!
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron x teacher!reader#rafe x teacher!reader#( 🍎 : teacher!reader )#file — recent works#✶ — rafe cameron#( sunnie writes obx! )
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makeup
synopsis - pegging matt in his sexy costume
pairings; sub!matt x dom!reader (no use of y/n)
contents- smut, pegging, ass play, mommy kink, male masturbation, use of pet names, cum, all that good stuff.
a/n - this was heavily requested! but i understand that this is not for everyone so please do not read if this makes you uncomfy otherwise enjoy! not proofread
“okay you can look now” matt giggled, referring to your hands covering your eyes. matt had been so secretive about his halloween costume claiming he wanted it to be a total surprise. not even letting you come shopping with him. you slowly removed your hands and opened your eyes, they adjusted to the brightness of the room before focusing. it took everything in you not to scream, he looked so fucking good. covered in black clothes head to toe with tiny spots of orange and grey, brown hair so perfectly messy, and black face paint smudged around his blue eyes as a cherry on top.
“now don’t you look handsome mr. wayne” you complimented. matt twirled as you praised his costume, giving you a full show. you sauntered over to his standing figure to look closer at him. your hands felt up over his costume once close enough, stopping at his hands that were covered with fake bandage wraps. the skin was smooth in comparison to the ragged material adorning his wrists. you brought his hand to your lips and softly kissed his knuckles, just above the bandages.
matt smiled shyly at your soft touches and kisses. “don’t tease”. matt was close to melting under your touch– almost forgetting he had to go take pictures with his brothers soon. “sorry you just kiss look so kiss good” you purr. with one last kiss, you let his hand go. “i’ll be back in an hour or so?” matt offered in return, implying that you had all night to kiss on him and other things. you nodded while straightening him up .“don’t be long yeah?”. his soft hair tickled your face as whispered teasingly, lips brushing against the shell of his ear “my favourite toy is calling your name” . shivers ran down his spine at the mention of your strap-on, riling him up already. not to mention the seduction laced in your voice, it drove him insane. It took everything in him not to bail on his plans.
۶ৎ
the instagram notification broke your focus from the halloween movies and specials you were watching on tv. Matthew.sturniolo just made a post displayed across your wallpaper. you clicked on it immediately, excited to see how the photos came out. once instagram loaded it showed matt’s post of 4 photos of him as batman and references for his costume. six in total. your jaw dropped as you swiped, seeing matt look so mysterious, dark, and sexy. the bad lighting of the photos made it even sexier. you liked the photos and commented a few emojis with horny messages.
after oogling over the post for a few minutes you placed your phone down and headed back towards your room to prepare for matt’s return. the floorboards creaked under your feet as you sped towards the bathroom.
your hands wrapped around your towel as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, water still dripping off your body and leaving a trail behind you.
still, in your towel, you rummaged through your closet for the special black lingerie you planned on wearing tonight and a cover-up while you waited. it was wedged in between one of matt’s hoodies and your jacket. you pulled it out and smiled, caressing the lacy fabric as you thought about how you would look in it. draping it over your arm you moved on to finding what you needed for the intimate acts you planned on engaging in with matt. the box of toys was hidden well, in a spot which only you and matt could find easily but nobody else would think of looking. opening the velvet top you instantly reached for the strap on and the lube. once you had those you carefully looked around in the box for anything else you might need before shutting it and stepping out of the closet.
you placed the various sexual items on your bed, laying them out in the order you would use them; lingerie first, then the lubricant, and finally the star of the show the skin-toned dildo attached to black straps. you sighed and turned on your heels to get ready, excited to look nice but not for the process. after about 30 minutes you were so satisfied with how you looked, silily getting distracted by yourself in the full-body mirror in the corner of the room. the black fabric hugged your body just right, showing off your cleavage and parts of your skin under the see-through lace.
your phone kept you busy for the time being, watching various tiktoks and liking more halloween costume reveals. you scrolled until matt cracked open the bedroom door. “sorry for the wait, the city needed me sweets’ ” matt said in his batman voice as he walked into the room. you shut your phone off and chuckled at him still being in character. you swung your legs to the side and hopped off the bed, and began seductively stripping out of the cover-up. discarding the garment and you strode towards your boyfriend slowly. showing off the black set to him.
matt’s eye black surrounded eyes widened at the sight of you. he mouthed a damn as he met you halfway, his bandaged hands immediately reached for your waist. your arms wrapped around his neck as he grabbed your waist, closing the gap between you both. your fingers tangled in the hair on the back of his neck as you talked. “are you all mine now mr. wayne?” you giggled, keeping up with his act. his thumbs smoothed against your sides as he took you in, just floored by you. “all yours” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss you.
the quick kiss quickly turned into a heated makeout session, without the tongue fighting— though sexy, matt gave you complete control, letting your tongue slip into his mouth and your lips engulf his. the kiss was messy and full of need from both parties. multitasking while you kissed him you started to walk him towards the bed, pushing his body back without breaking the kiss. matt grabbed at your lace-covered ass as he stumbled backward. you groaned into his mouth at his wandering hands. once at the side of the bed, you broke the messy kiss. saliva was swapped and connected you both once you pulled away.
you reached around his long legs and moved the toy and lube before pushing him back on the bed, ensuring he wouldn’t hit anything on his way down. matt hit the bed pretty hard but his multiple layers softened the fall. he opened his arms and positioned his legs so you could climb on top of him. you took the signal and crawled over his body only stopping when you reached his crotch. balancing on one hand you dragged your free hand across the tent that formed in his pants while you guys kissed, you felt it poking due to the proximity but got lost in the feeling of his mouth.
matt gasped at the touch you were giving him. he was sure his thick cargos would hide his hard-on until he stripped. “this all for me?” you cooed, tracing the outline of his cock. he nodded quickly. “yes mama was thinking about you fucking me the whole time”. you can’t even lie, the confession made you grin, knowing a couple of whispers hours ago affected him this much. you paused on the groping to stradle him. your thighs caged his smaller legs in. the scratchy fabric made marks against your thighs from how close you were and his cock was distracting under you.“and i was thinking about how bad i wanted to ruin your makeup”
you brought a thumb up to his lips and tapped lightly. the cracks and dry patches stood out as you touched them. matt instantly opened his mouth for you, lips wrapping around your thumb perfectly. matt’s tongue swirled around the tip of your thumb as he got it wet for you. “good boy” matt whimpered at the praise and sucked until you took your finger out his mouth with a pop and dragged it under his eyes — leaving a smudged empty spot on his face. perfect.
“please ruin it i can’t wait anymore,” matt said as he squirmed under you. his cock was begging to be released and touched. and his tight hole was dying to be stretched. you caressed his cheek as you looked down “you’re gonna look so pretty as i fuck you” he shuddered at your words and whispered a please, resorting to begging now as he began aching for you.
his eyes followed your movements as you reached for the lube and strap. they lit up as soon as your fingers made contact. you slid off his lap and sat on the space next to him. “pants down and ass up,” you instructed. while matt scrambled off the bed, you focused on coating your fingers with lubricant.
the sounds of matt stripping filled your ears, the zipper flying down, pants ruffling as he pulled them down, and the plop of his boxers joining his pants at his ankles. he turned his head towards you, watching you coat the tips of your fingers in lube. you placed it down on the bed and turned to matt, cooing internally at his obedience. your clean hand smoothed over his soft bare ass, caressing it but avoiding where he wanted you to touch. “ready?” you asked. he muffled a please and nodded eagerly.
you spread his cheeks with that same hand and used the other to prep his hole. you gently spread the substance around, making matt hiss and arch at the coldness. your fingers circulated his tight skin before plunging the index in. squelching sounds came from the tight fit you had to make. his hole clenched around your finger as he moaned out at the insertion. you watched his body as you fingered him, searching for signs of discomfort. “you’re so tight baby, how am i gonna fit inside you?” you tease.
his body tensed at the sentence and at the fact that you might not be able to fuck him if he was so tight. his head shot up as he got deeper into his thoughts, he could and would take you, matt was determined to defend himself now. “jus’ gotta stretch me out please don’t say that” he begged. you took his words seriously and began massaging your middle finger around his hole as you prepared to insert it. two fingers are enough to stretch, right?
with one finger already inside, he started to loosen up. his rim wasn’t fighting your digits anymore, instead welcoming them. your second finger slid in effortlessly, not having to go halfway like you did the first. with both your index and middle inside you began to curl them upwards. aiming to get as close to his prostate as you could without hurting him. you built up a pace as your fingers slid in and out. matt’s body jerked against the bed as you fingered him. he was getting that full feeling just from your fingers. his muffled moans and whines rang in your ears as you pleasured him. he turned his head to the side so you could hear him clearly as he begged for you to start fucking him. “please ‘m ready i need you so bad”
“easy now, we have all night” you tried to warn, selfishly. you just wanted to spend a little more time playing with him. he was right though, he was ready and stretched out enough to take you fully. matt’s pink lips formed a pout as you denied him once again. you were taking your sweeeet time with him but he trusted you so he didn’t complain further. you flicked your wrist a few more times before pulling out fully. a pang of emptiness washed over him as you removed your digits, but he didn’t get to dwell over it for long. “all fours” you instruct. you weren’t fucking around anymore.
you wiped your lubed up fingers on his ass before he sat up. your action elicited an indescribable sound from him. upon your instructions he jumped up from his previous position and climbed on the soft bed. his feet almost hanging off the bed while he waited in the doggy position for you. you grabbed the toy by the straps from the right of matt, checking him out a little as you reached. your stocking clad feet stepped into the straps like you were putting on pants. you brought the black material up until it didn't budge anymore, the straps fit snug over your clothed pussy and waist.
matt waited ever so patiently as you attached the strap to your lower half. even though he was facing the opposite direction he still knew what you were doing. the sounds of the objects moving helping tremendously. the cap popped off of the bottle like before letting him know your next moves. you smothered the head in cold lubricant, the small drop you applied going a long way.
you threw the bottle on the dresser before stepping closer to the bed, tip almost lining up perfectly with matt's ass. you placed a hand on the small of his back and pushed slightly. perfecting his arch and planting his body how you needed it. your other hand gave quick strokes to the silicon, ensuring it was fully covered and slippery. matt's arch was good enough for you to slide in now. you removed the hand from his back and attached it to his side.
a small yelp was heard as you grooved into matt. the tip was barely in and matt was reeling already. his wet hair fell in front of his face as his head drooped down. with a nod, you continued to push past his rim and eventually fully into him. once inside you stilled any movements. letting him adjust to the real fullness, not just two fingers. matt finally was able to let out a sound after having his jaw agape for so long. he let out a grunt as he made slight movements around the strap.
you patted his side as you waited for him to give you a sign of readiness. even though he was eager as ever you never wanted to hurt him. and him not being prepared would do exactly that. "move please" matt groaned. your gentle touch turned into a tight grip on his hips as you gave your first thrust. he kept the arch you gave him and went forward at your hips meeting his ass for the first but not last time tonight.
you pulled back just until the tip only was inside him then gave a rougher push of your hips. the silicon slid in and out of him just right. matt's hands tangled in the bed sheets to prevent him from screaming out. the toy just stretched him so good. his moans of pleasure gave great encouragement as you fucked him. the louder he gets the harder your thrusts get.
the slow pace you had was driving him insane, you were supposed to be ruining him and his makeup. this pace wasn't gonna bring him to tears of pleasure. matt knew you were playing with him again, making him ask for everything. he mustered up the courage to ask for more. "harder please i can handle it" he urged. your grip got impossibly tighter and you gave him one last soft thrust. "don't wanna hear a word of complaint got it?"
you didn't wait for a response and began drilling your hips into his ass. his body wobbled from the fervor of your motions. the slapping of skin bounced of the walls of the steamy room. his hard cock smacked against his thigh while you pounded into him. the symphony of the mixed moans, groans, and grunts combined with the slapping. "this what you wanted, yeah?" you hissed, movements never slowing.
matt couldn't even reply if he wanted to. the way you were fucking him was too much. the tears welled up in his waterline as the thrusts got rougher if even possible. you smiled at his silence, knowing the strap rendered him speechless.
you continued to relentlessly drive your hips into him. one in particular hit his sweet spot. matt let out a cry at the contact and seconds later the waterworks came falling. disgruntled noises came from the boy under you. overwhelming spurts of pleasure were pulsing through his spent body. black droplets of tears stained his face and the comforters under him. his sniffles joined the various sounds in the room.
even though he was crying matt never wanted you to halt your movements. feeling his orgasm creep up matt snaked a hand around his cock. he needed that extra push to come crashing down fully. you hips continuously snapped and matt tried to match your speed on his cock, jerking it agressively. you watched as he clenched around the silicon and knew he was gonna cum soon "oh-oh fuck m close please" matt rushed out.
you slowed down and opted on going deeper rather than faster. matt squirmed at the change of pace but nevertheless kept touching himself to the rhythm you had before. you observed how he stroked himself to give him the stimulation he needed to finish. his moans got louder and with one last stroke from him and the last few deep thrusts he was done for "cumming please—ah" he warned at last minute
your hands caressed him as he spilled his milky cum all over his thighs, hands, and the sheets. matt cried and moaned at the same time from the blistering orgasm he just experienced. you saw his struggle to stay in doggy and pulled out before he collapsed onto the bed, stepped out of the removed the strap on from your sweaty body. you sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to come down from his current state, not wanting to overwhelm him with clinginess.
matt crawl-limped over to you, silently letting you know he was alright and wanted cuddles now. you opened your arms to his sweaty body and he took his place in between your thighs. "without all that makeup covering your eyes, you look a lot like my boyfriend, mr wayne"
#jules writes 📓 !!#matt stuniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#sub matthew sturniolo#sub matt sturniolo#submattenthusiast#matthew sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo imagine#sturniolo triplets smut
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taste (y. jw)
✎ yang jungwon x reader synopsis you and Jungwon were drinking together, until you impulsively recommended to play spicy drinking games. he eventually agreed with your idea, and from there on you could discover something that he's been hiding from you and you decide to make it come true. genre drinking together, reader has supposedly bad drinking tolerance but actually lasted the entire way, drinking game, jungwon respects boundaries (as he should) but reader likes to push it, jungwon is shy when getting onto the spicy topics unlike reader who's bold, Hershey's chocolate syrup, teasing, not proofread warnings spicy drinking game/spicy question(s), VERY ALMOST smut (read at your own caution), very suggestive, food related (smudging on areas on the body to clean up), vivid description of licking, hickies word count 1.4k cly's note honestly writing suggestive/almost smut fics are lowkey out of my comfort zone but i wanted to give yall another one after seeing how much support dangerous got. if i wasn't so awkward with this topic, jungwon would've been more bold and confident LOL. don't think i wrote this as well as dangerous but hope yall enjoy this too!
As you finished taking a shot, you immediately gulped down the liquid in an attempt to reduce the effects that the alcohol has on you. You sighed as you felt the burning sensation in your throat, your face tensing up as you slowly felt the sensation disappear. Jungwon chuckled as he held up the alcohol bottle and poured you another shot. As the sensation in your throat fully died off, you quickly cleared your throat, "I'm done".
He gave you an approving hum and smile as he patted your back, knowing that you weren't such a good drinker unlike him. You sat back on your chair, letting your head hang over the edge as you stared into the ceiling. The room was dimly lit up by a warm light, the walls and ceiling looking more of a dark orange.
You could almost tell that feeling in your stomach was coming — y'know, that feeling when you drink a lot of alcohol. Your head was starting to feel light and as your heart starts to race, you suddenly feel like you want to do a lot of things.
"Hey!" you called out, and Jungwon's eyebrows raised, anticipating to what you were going to say next. "Drinking game, let's play," you suggested.
And that was exactly how you got even more wasted. You were panting as you felt your head spin, almost feeling like you were going to pass out. Jungwon laughed as he watched you in your drunken state, folding his arms and relaxing back on his chair, "Are you sure you can continue? I can bring you to bed now if you want".
"No!" you slammed your shot glass down onto the table, determined to prove that you could drink more, even if your boyfriend already knew damn well that you were already pass your limit. "I.. can do thiss," you mumbled, your speech already starting to slur from the alcohol.
"Y'know what?!" you exclaimed, standing up from your chair and slightly startling Jungwon and you looked at him with determined eyes, "Spicy. Let's play spicy".
Jungwon's eyes were slightly widened as he realised what you were asking for. You wanted to play spicy drinking games, and his mind has run wild, the number of things he wants to do being unlimited. His face slightly burns up at the idea and he shook his head.
"I'd love to, but-" "Wonnie!" "You're drunk, Y/N."
You pouted. "So what?!" He ran his fingers throug his hair, feeling slightly agitated. "I don't want to take advantage of that!"
You looked at him with half-lidded eyes, "I don't care. Do it".
He bit his lip, and if you were sober enough, you can physically see him lose control from the way his brows furrow and how he exhaled audibly. He was losing it. He wanted to respect boundaries, and you were tempting him.
He spoke, his voice deep. "Who was your best kiss? Me or yor ex?". You chuckled, your eyelids barely opened as you pointed at him without hesitation. "You, duh". You've slightly sobered up already since all you've been doing is answering his questions honestly, avoiding any shots.
He nodded his head in approval, trying his best to compose yourself until you continued talking. "I fucking love the way your lips ruin me whenever—".
Jungwon, with his reddened ears, covered your mouth which silenced you. You giggled as his mouth prevented you from talking, and you could hear him sigh. Though he agreed to play your spicy "Truth or Drink" game, he still wanted to respect the boundaries, but you were forcing him to push it, his self-control slowly slipping away.
He sighed as he slowly released your mouth, watching you as he slowly leaned back. "It's your turn," he furrowed his eyebrows upwards, feeling slightly shy as to what you might ask him. You've always found him adorable that he was always shy at these topics even when you and him have already done a lot.
You decided to shoot a question, "Do you have any fantasies I don't know about?".
He seemed to ponder for a second, his eyes looking empty and him pursing his lips, and just as soon as he picked up his shot glass and was about to gulp it down, you grabbed his wrist to prevent it from moving.
Your eyes were dark and determined. "What is it?" your tone sounding open, yet demanding. The tension in the air suddenly grew, the silence becoming more unbearable as you two stared into each other's eyes. He grew more nervous, gulping and pursing his lips as you could see him decide if he should tell you or not.
"It's okay, baby," you comforted him, encouraging him to be more open.
"Food" he quicky muttered. "What?" "I said food."
You looked at his face and you could tell his face was completely red, and you knew it wasn't from the alcohol. He bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows, feeling sheepish that he finally admitted something he'd been hiding.
"What about it?" "The thought of you smearing food on your naked body for me to clean up with my mouth is just.."
His whole face was a bright shade of red and he broke eye contact, afraid to see what kind of facial expression you're making to his confession. You lifted his chin up with your finger, "Let's do it".
There were two differences that were made. One being that you were now shifted into your room from the living room since Jungwon offered to carry you with his trustworthy strength and arms, and second being that you were completely bare. You hugged your legs as the cold air hit your body, waiting for Jungwon to return until you heard the door slowly creak open.
Jungwon appeared, holding the Hershey's syrup bottle you stored in your refrigerator, and at the the bare sight of you, his breath hitched. He gulped as he walked towards you, being conscious of the way you were w him wtching with pedatory gaze.
He gulped as he climbed onto the bed, his knees pressing onto the sheets, staring at you, having a flustered expression take over his facial features. No, this wasn't his first rodeo with you, but it was his first with his most hidden fantasy.
He slowly handed you over the syrup bottle, your fingers brushing his for a moment and without a moment of hesitation, you immediately started to squeeze out the syrup onto different parts of your body — your knees, outer thighs, stomach, collarbone, neck.
His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you being fully covered in syrup. His heart skipped a beat as he took a few seconds to scan your entire body up and down. He licked his lips and he slowly started to climb over you, eyeing the first spot that he wanted to clean up first — your knees.
His tip of his tongue flicked against your knee, the temperature difference between his tongue and your skin making you shiver. His muscle immediately started to clean you up, using various movements such as long strikes or short kitten licks. He quickly cleaned up the syrup on your knee and he started to progress to the other areas such as your outer thigh.
He sucked the skin along the way, leaving light hickies that were bright red. He slowly pushed you down on the bed as he hovered over you, a shadow forming over you, next cleaning up your stomach. You watched how his eyes fluttered close and how he took his own time to clean you up.
"Teasing me aren't you?" he mumbled as he was in the midst of cleaning up your stomach, taking a quick second to look at you. You smirked, knowing exactly what he'd meant. You'd purposefully avoided all the core parts as you wanted to leave it last.
"Be patient, will you?" you shot, enjoying how he whines and just continues.
He'd just finished cleaning up your collarbone and neck, and without taking a break, you immediately started to pour the syrup out to areas where he'd been anticipating to the most. His jaw had dropped at the breath-taking sight of you, almost believing that he was dreaming.
"How about, we start here?" you challenged as you poured the syrup on your lips, his eyes watching the syrup as it lands on your mouth and drips down your chin.
extra note GRHAUDEWFN I FEEL SO SHY THAT I WROTE THIS. OH MY GOD. okay. i hope you guys enjoyed this. I HOPE THIS WASNT TOO CRINGE THIS IS LOWK MY FIRST SMUT FIC. im gunna sleep this away GOODNIGHT.
#enhypen#enha#enha fics#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen drabbles#enha imagines#engene#enha fluff#enhy#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen smut#enhypen x#enhypen x engene#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x you#enhypen xo (only if you say yes)#jungwon fluff#jungwon x reader#jungwon yang#yang jungwon#jungwon#enha smut#enha jaeyun#enha x y/n#enha x you
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ᛪ༙ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔.
𝟓 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐒. 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐋, 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐓. 𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃, 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐌𝐄. ⚠︎ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄—𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓. 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒; 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘.
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𓆩ψ𓆪 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [𝐊𝐎𝐅𝐈]
↓
𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈 𓆩❦︎𓆪
WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL ⟶ 🎴 Magic. 8oS. 10oP↺. Faith↺. Page of Pentacles↺. the Chariot. 8oW↺ [bod].
THE TEMPTATION, OTHERWISE A TEMPTRESS TO SUITORS THAT “DARE” TO INDULGE; TO MEET A FATE THAT’S FORBID. Attributes include the ability to lure their 'prey' in with just a glance, emanating tenacious sensuality, and exhibiting divinity [energetically]. Poison with legs, seeping into the thoughts of anyone's minds. Heightened emotional intelligence assists them in hypnotizing others. Seduction is an accessory, a mask of sex they can put on [“and off”] at anytime.
♰♰♰ An innate power of transformation is what this pile has. Able to demand ("command") a room with just their presence, let alone a word, they're perceived as the Magician; resourceful, magical, and opulent. Something of them is practical, as in they're adept to the metaphysical and what it may offer. LOA, glamour (or "sex") magick, visualization and scripting are familiar concepts. Witchcraft is a part of them, as it could've been passed down or learned ["through lineage"]. Genetic gifts that assist their "urges", or more importantly their fantasies. Non-conforming, unconventional ways and ideal (as they are the same). At most, this pile's aura feels mystical, untouchable and otherworldly. This kind of force can be turned off and on; felt by everyone, seen by none. Will attract "watchers" i.e. stalkers online or in real life. ♰♰♰ "Too hot to touch”; very tempting group here, even more so when they're done up to "play the part". Sensing that red, ginger (or “orange”) hair can emphasize their burn (fire). Hot! An edgier aesthetic suits them better than most, as if their mystique abruptly magnified. Deeper colors (maroon, black, and “dark blue”), smokey eyes, and smudged glitter are enhancers. Channeling woodsier scents? A scent including this note could melt into Pile One’s pheromones; they’re sensible and protective. Confidence within them is grounded, gives off older and mature. Faces contradict the assertiveness tho, some people of Pile Two have cherubic features (e.g. button nose, fat cheeks) which offers up an illusion of innocence.
LONGTERM CONNECTIONS ARE PRONE TO COME ABOUT, DUE TO CAPTURING LOVERS IN THEIR WEB. It's more of being bound than being "in love", and that's because Pile One doesn't leave them alone until Pile One says so; a pulley system only they control. At worst, this is a manipulation tactic in the hands of a former ["serial"] cheater, unless Pile One has evolved and grown out those ways. Trapped in a trance, pulled along a thin string, kept in an unopened box; partners don't conceptualize self-value when Pile One's not there. This as a scenario would be the equivalent of man pleading on his knees and to the world for his girl, like the music videos. Someone that’ll die for querent, feeling nothing but raging love. How Ari professes while admitting she’s been an anxious mess, “completely disheveled” and still wanting to appease “you” is how Pile One’s partners are.
♰♰♰ Samantha Jones in SATC is who they remind me of. Similar to her, Pile One prioritizes self-maintenance [and self-pleasure] before anyone else. Discarding dinner date plans for a night alone instead, opting out of fling appointments to mingle with friends, etc. "I gotta put myself first," "hasta la vista," and "me time" sum them up to a tee. Hesitating between shoe selection versus before asking someone to get out of bed and leave; to them partners are disposable, replaceable. Not #1 [because that's reserved for themselves], but the very bottom of the list instead. Mindset of an Earth sign, Virgo (Moon or 1H) in particular—"mother knows best". It's attractive that someone won't accept less than what they've done for themselves [already], they impress themselves. The shiniest trophy, but nobody possesses them. ♰♰♰ Querents of this pile are equipped to handle the world (plus obstacles) with a step in the right direction. I always reference "the phoenix rising from the ashes" when there's strength of a warrior present, which applies now. Pain, challenges, disruptions—there's nothing that can keep Pile One from achieving. Seduction for them stems from a "broken" place, where they shaped a future out of dust. It's possible no one gets them, but that's due to their truth being concealed. These are people that can't be read (especially at face value), they're meant to be discovered. Learned.
WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴 7oW. King of Wands. 8oP. 6oC↺. Knight of Cups. 4oS [bod].
BECOMING THE MINX, “JUST LIKE MAGIC” IS A NOD ANOTHER SIDE OF THE SAME COIN; TWO HALVES OF ONE PERSON. The act of illusion is apparent, and it's potent within sexual circumstance. Skills, body, "sexuality" are magic, enough to arouse fascination in others. Ariana Grande's music portrays this visage perfectly, because Ariana is the embodiment of dual personalities. Innocent and unsuspecting until she's slipping a sexual innuendo beside her harmonies; a natural tease, because this is who she already is.
♰♰♰ In terms of sex, this pile is more prone to leading the encounter; the HBIC. How the momentum's pace is on your timing, how nothing ends or begins until Pile One's call. The demand of their instruction is seductive, it keeps "everyone" in line. Control may lessen, although it'll never fully leave. Granted, a limited amount of time to "disobey" is earned; to switch roles and have Pile One as a sub, get a taste of their authority. Seconds of pride that count towards a rush, a high that they'll only get with her, up until time's over and it's Pile One's turn once more. ♰♰♰ Not so much BDSM, but punishment is seductive; being spanked, "bit" (otherwise marked), and reprimanded. It's plausible that mama's boys or daddy's girls are prone to being on the other end—"under their hand"—because discipline isn't common. Getting told no, following directions and staying "put" keep their attitude together, something they're not used to. Pile One has bitches [or "pets"] lol. Degradation, using a condescending tone, edging and orgasm denial is a favorite.
PILE ONE’S PHYSIQUE, OR “CURVATURE” IS A HIGHLIGHT FOR THEIR PARTNERS. Their shape can resemble a peach, plump at the top and luscious at the bottom (otherwise supple breast and a soft ass). "Freakum" dresses can be a closet staple, especially when it's for a special night out—whenever they're ready to get (or "have") their way. Dipping in dark, brooding colors will heighten the allure, turn up the effect. Norma Jean's tactic to become Marilyn Monroe comes to mind, how she was able to shift: "I don’t know how to explain what she did because it was so very subtle, but she turned something on within herself that was almost like magic." "They were recognizing that this was Marilyn Monroe...even though a second ago nobody noticed her.”
♰♰♰ Clothing is a specialty and particularly when it's "coming off " (or "coming down"). Stripping out of them, dropping each piece to expose another stretch of skin; strip teases or showing off the birthday suit. This pile's lingerie should consist of lacy, sheer material such as wearing fishnets or leg garters (any form of tights tbh). The price of what they wear is attractive. It brings about this air of expensiveness, as in their aura is wealthy—abundant, self-assured and reliable. It traces back into the bedroom for sure, people can feel their income rise in just one night. Querents have the universal cheat code of being gifted ("being spoiled") in romantic connections (e.g. shopping trips and cash deposits). It's a favor for one, exchanging "secret" treasures. ♰♰♰ Pretty distinct, but tone of voice is being [heavily] highlighted; “vocal cords” are on the smoother side? Soothing almost, channeling that they’ve spoken people to sleep. Reminiscent of rum, in both taste and “singe” (wincing at the burn). Rugged (another Joel Miller reference, some querents are Southern); can hold weighted conversations with a voice full of conviction. Lol at the number of people that pine after this pile from their charm alone. “Just like magic, I’m attractive” and getting everything you want cus’ you attract it is about Pile One’s social interactions. Grounding a room with just a few sentences then flirting with everyone standing in it, golden gift for duality. Networking is quintessential considering it's one of this pile's skills; cue the stack of business cards they'd have gotten from exchanging contact information (huge).
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.
♡⃕ A kink for teeth and biting, both them and their partners. Into biting, getting bit on the lip and skin ["until it's tender"]. Sun, Mars, or Pluto could be in mutable signs [Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces] or houses [3H, 7H, 9H, 12H]. Scorpio/8H placements included.
♡⃕ Radiant". Beaming from the inside out, immersing the world in a glorious shine. Querents are on the friendlier side or possess the traits of "everyone's best friend". Big ole gummy smiles; a toothy grin. Friend of the world, can communicate with babies (children) and animals. Bunnies as a favorite animal [or "nickname"].
♡⃕ Find joy in mischief or getting a rise out of people; the jester of their friends or family (especially cousins). Pulling stunts to scare others, harmless pranks, and cracking jokes to lighten the mood at all times. Father could have the prankster gene hence why it's recognized. Def some home celebrities, family oriented querents for sure. Thanksgiving or New Years as a favorite holiday, too.
♡⃕ "Taut" RBF's, lips could form into a thin line on many occasions. Furrowing brows whenever they're driving home a point, prone to getting into "spats" or disputes (i.e. argumentative). Could hate banter, but revel in conflict; adrenaline rushes during confrontation(s). Intelligence is golden during debate conversations if tense. Bilingual/trilingual; native language from places of birth. Anais from Gumball in terms of frustration or attitude. Could have Virgo or Aries in personal (or outer) planets.
♡⃕ Really fiery, like it's all in this reading. "Quick", not doing things before or *after* thinking (i.e. regretting impulsive decisions). Cussing; swearing a lot or while chewing someone out. "Off the rails." Although full throttle, anxiety ("anxiousness") or bad nerves get in their way often. Bass boosted, loud volume, headbanging music as it compliments their vigor. 'TYG' from Megan thee Stallion & Spiritbox.
♡⃕ "Cupid bow lips". Bottom lip being plumper than the top; "fuller". Beauty mole(s) on the face or chin, above the mouth too. Using white lip liner or concealer for a signature makeup look ("added touch"). Distinct characteristics pertaining the face; statement piece [earrings, eye makeup, hair accessories].
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈 𓆩❦︎𓆪
WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL ⟶ 🎴 Reflection. King of Cups. Knight of Wands↺. Happiness. Queen of Cups. 9oP↺. 4oS [bod].
THE LOVER GIRL IS A HOPELESS ROMANTIC, A PERSON THAT’S ENCOMPASSED TO THE BELIEF OF HAVING [THEIR] TRUE LOVE. "Hopelessly devoted to you," comes to mind, a song that expresses the inner monologue this pile has ["everyday"]. Relationships can become a lifeline, a means of preservation in time of need; love is taken quite seriously, even more so if it's reciprocated. It's attractive to feel appreciated, yearned and cared for by Pile Two's energy; willing to share however many pieces of their heart if it’s necessary.
♰♰♰ Bubbly personality keeps this pile from being detected, the wide smiles and "softly glazed" eyes adds onto innocence. People can sense there's something more, carnal energy that's held from unleashing. I feel that there's Cancerian-Libran placements because the perception of them reminds me of pink bows and sugarplums. Cute, but only because their deviance is hidden ["in plain sight"]. "Naughty Girl" by Beyonce. There's more to them than meets the eye, as it's tempting others to come taste or try (lots of probing one's sexual identity can occur). ♰♰♰ Alchemy is a curated, learned skill and it's Pile Two's way to the Universe. Tumultuous rebirths are recurring, made to "force" them into shape; changing course throughout their journey is attractive. Learning and applying hard lessons in order to receive whatever they wish for. An enigma is how they're perceived, someone that's checked out when they're not immersed in another world. Going through—or "experiencing"—transformations will affect their overall appearance. Erasing an identity from the past, embracing change for a clean slate, shedding skin with hair and clothing. Their presence leaves people's blood rushing.
HIGHLY EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT, THEY CAN FIND THEMSELVES LONGING FOR HEIGHTENED SENSE OF AFFECTION IN OTHERS. An emptiness can rest inside them, but it's just because they're familiar with vulnerability; an "open book" if it pertains their feelings, being the only person who gets them. Honesty is a fault, because it allows the truth to be set "free". Human embodiment of the Justice card, their Judgement can sever or repair the lives ("energies") of those around. 222 and 333 are angel numbers that indicate progression in life or to urge use of discernment. "Put themselves first."
♰♰♰ Euphoric essence around their beauty, how it's a gift for their highest form. It's special—a beautiful blessing in physical features. Plush lips, "rosy" undertone(s), pleasant figure and "fleshy" areas (hips, thighs, love handles). Someone that's mesmerizing, the embodiment of Aphrodite's pearl; the birth of beauty. Shapeshifting is likely, as they've earned it with the help from above ("the ethers"). Staying true to what's on the inside and having it bloom on the outside. Dreams in human form. Being noticed [and "adorned"] for their innocence, in personality or facial features. Big, sparkly, animated eyes and "sooty" lashes; resembling Betty Boop; the fattest chipmunk cheeks (can insinuate someone's ass) and so on. ♰♰♰ Intention on Pile Two's end shows up in an authoritative sense, when they insert themselves it's because they're tired of the bullshit. Eerily similar to that of a "headmaster", otherwise strictness is a part of their love language. Coddling will only get someone so far, lol this pile's upfront; blunt, but respectful [simultaneously]. This pile won't allow people to run and duck from their problems, only "showing" the option to face them. Those same people are awakened to their fears, abilities, and unnatural desires; they've been found, truly seen. Making people sit up straight and pay attention; "IDGAF if I was late" ie. no one but Pile Two can check them like this. That spunkiness is a treasure alone, but especially cherished for stemming from "unaltered" independence. Praise and worshipping kinks could be prevalent during encounters.
WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴 3oS. Ace of Cups↺. 6oS. King of Pentacles. Death. 7oC [bod].
DISARMING PEOPLE WITH CHARM—ALOOFNESS—REMAINS KEY, A COMPONENT THAT OFFERS THE BEST SURPRISE. Playing coy, twiddling thumbs or tucking hair ("biting it" too), it's a game that this pile wins easily. Nobody expects this from Pile Two, not in the slightest because they're too kind. Gentle and 'maternal', nimble like a baby mouse. On the surface, that is. I'm envisioning the slow drip of a faucet, or the articulation of a cat's paw steps—steady [and deliberate]. This energy reminds me of honey while it drizzles, erotic and warm. This pile's *so* sensual, and it drives a lottttttttt of people insane ("up the walls"). Feline, otherwise 'tactful', energies are present; acquiring or possessing skills in seduction. Mastery in peep shows, teases, and dances for sure. Mastery in peep shows, teases, and dances for sure. "We can't just keep talking about it, I want you to come inside it...I want to get wild" insinuates romantic partners don't want to wait, that they're in the mood anytime they see querent.
♰♰♰ Provocative is the best word for this group, they're able to control a room with little to no motion (unless it's on top <3). Can move mountains, crush stone, with nothing but a toe point; very powerful people. Pheromones alone are even enough, it's the sheer nature of it all, this pile's addictive. They may find that their sexual encounters will include overstimulation or force (i.e. domination) because lovers aren't capable of holding it in. Losing coherency, spiraling in Pile Two's "abyss" ("going the extra mile"). Essentially, lovers that'll believe in the red string theory after just one time together. It shocks anyone that's graced a chance to get in bed, the sexual influence is mind warping. ♰♰♰ Orgasms come super easily ("almost naturally") when given from them. Their technique(s) to have someone cumming are "sensational", soul touching and tear producing (I smell Scorpio and 12H placements lol). Definitely bestowed with the "magic touch"; skills that beckon one's climax forth. The Enchantress. People reach different heights with them, a "new peak"—reborn for existence ["again"]. People have revelations and awakenings in bed with Pile Two, in which can come about in a matter of minutes or after one orgasm (in other words, tread this force of a skill lightly). Obsessive behavior is prone to arise, 99.8% that it will, because people won't get enough. Querents knowledge on ecstasy is beyond teaching, so much that I sense it's spiritual; an "antidote" for those who aren't "well" (i.e. in heat and addicted).
BEING COINED AS 'THE BEST' SOMEONE'S EVER HAD IS TIED DIRECTLY TO BEING WORTH THE CHASE. Not that this group's only good or made for sex, more so being an expert in that department adds to their prestige. It's giving public reputation, one that's good or possibly envied; 10H prominence. King of Pentacles is the emblem of high social standing, respect and utmost value; the spread itself clarifies the admiration of Pile Two from different POVs. May mirror the 'WAG effect', but with them as the celebrity and their partner the wife. Double confirmation for emulating a cat, this is their ownership and haughtiness lmao. Wouldn't be surprised if it was obvious that querents wears ["and buys"] the pants in romantic connections, I even sense being worshipped by choice—love's in a glass case for the public to see. May mirror the "WAG effect", but Pile Two isn't the wife (they're the "breadwinner").
♰♰♰ Physique is coming in similar to Pile One (check it out if called), more pronunciation on the upper half tho. The breasts (chest) are "opulent", so possibly on the fuller cup side or give off an illusion (i.e. being big). "Full moon" is what I'm channeling which gives off that their breasts hold the emphasis on moon; Cancer placements (Sun, Moon, Mars), weightier feel, stretch marks or birthmarks across (or around) them. "Pushup bra", meaning that area is noticeable. Anatomy aside, breasts equate to maternal characteristics. Being domestic, caring for those around them, owning an apartment and a dog—signs that potential partners associate to good parenting. "With child". Breeding and having babies/getting this pile pregnant are major fantasies because they carry the imagery of how a "mother" should be. ♰♰♰ The softest people are in this pile and not just referring to vibes; skin, hair, lips, and legs are reminiscent of warm butter (which can point to glowing). I see the definition of radiance within their regime. Wearing whipped scents and perfumes of dreams, they kiss every room with succulence. A mango of a person, each part of them quenching people's thirst. Softness also indicates being a safe haven, or "stress relief", [a peace of mind] for close connections in their lives. Lol I'm even imagining a stress ball ("magenta"), like querent is a few people's security blanket. Giving out the best hugs and sweetest smile. Nothing overtly sexual, seduction is their aura. Comforting, dependable [with reason], and trustworthy; characteristics that whisper "this is a good person".
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.
♡⃕ Humorous people, like will make an entire room fold under pressure and BOL. "Practical jokester" and "professional yapper". Dragging people along; "jittery" or full of enthusiasm. Big kid as an adult, could even giggle a "ton". Dimples, smile lines, “eye crinkles” are present. Sun could be in cardinal houses [1H, 4H, 7H, 10H].
♡⃕ Oral, both giving and receiving, is a favorite. Mouths are "heated", almost like steamy hot tub water. Head that's slow and deliberate; "toe curling", "sheet gripping". Keeping a lover in place, holding their legs apart or keeping them pinned [for max pleasure]. Learning new techniques, tricks and "treats" for a five star experience. Pluto could be in cardinal houses [1H, 4H, 7H, 10H].
♡⃕ Feeling the same as “bubblegum” pink, having an aura that’s saturated in sugariness. Pinkalicious (brat); getting their way in love and not having to do much in return. Pink skin after getting spanked, undertones that show "flush". "Sweetest Pie" by Megan thee Stallion & Dua Lipa (similar vibes). Skill in baking or treats ("top notch"), confectionary sugar. Using their goods as [or "for"] a temporary love spell.
♡⃕ Goodhearted with a 'girl/boy next door' quality, would be a TV show's comfort character [otherwise most popular]. Happiness evokes the distinction of the ✨ emoji; "higher frequencies." Eloquence of Disney princesses or princes; "ain't no sunshine when she's gone." Transmuting pain, turning it into better days [or "Good Days" by SZA]. Positive influence, specifically on elders. Singing can be therapeutic and a skill.
♡⃕ Masturbation and alternative self-pleasure tactics can be chronic. Satisfying their needs, practicing affirmative moaning (e.g. moaning out loud and looking in a mirror). Instills confidence with sexuality—revealing clothing, "fiercely" looking makeup (winged liner, "blood" red lips), sexual discipline [on their time]. Can't be tied down, like ever. Has options for different days of the week ("separate occasions"); a playa. Could be Martian (Mars dom).
♡⃕ Maternal instincts and having a knack for domesticity, "family oriented". Dreams of birthing [or raising] children; adopting pets (i.e. owning multiple). Children "flock" to them, feel seen and understood from an adult POV ("trustful"). Dependable to friends. Proficient in babysitting or caretaking the youth; babies and toddlers "favorite person."
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𓆩❦︎𓆪
WHAT’S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL ⟶ 🎴 Sadness. the Hermit. Page of Swords. Creativity↺. 7oS↺. Strength. 2oW. 8oS [bod].
BRIGHT DIAMONDS FEEL REVELANT IN COMPARISON TO PILE THREE'S RARITY. On the surface it seems they're forlorn and stoic or repressed and grim. Misunderstood and judged until an opportunity to see all of them arrives; "guarded" but authentic ("100%"). Querents may emulate the solemness in renaissance oil paintings. Given the chance to drop their guard, they'll ease into vulnerability. Not entirely, just enough to witness them relax. It's public knowledge that they're forced to be on [the] edge, and that it's near impossible to get off alone. This pulls people in, as if they're rushing to get closer; want to be querents knight in shining armor. "If I'm worthy enough?" People dream to sought out after this pile's approval, and coming to the realization is sexy.
♰♰♰ Querents of this pile are made of stone. Their energy is immovable, it's not made to crack ["shatter, or break"]. Willow trees make up their intelligence, these are teachers of power (strength and discipline). I see them as "silent, but deadly", as silence ("Hermit mode") is the shield. Saying nothing and knowing it all. Intelligence comes to mind, alluding to mental influence on others. Potential partners could find themselves having an urge to do better; heighten their knowledge, sharpen their skills, complete a craft. Lmao however, Pile Three wouldn't have even told them to go do it, those partners would've done it all by themselves for Pile Three ("just because"). Power is definitely a thriving source here. ♰♰♰ Determinative and empowered, querents are forthcoming regarding goals, ambitions, and accomplishments; success seems to "follow" them, but that's due to it being a source of comfort. Channeling the drive to "succeed" is found in creative or musical pursuits [if not about career]. It's not unheard of that this pile fights to the end of Earth to conquer a triumph (spirit of a warrior). This is perceived seductively as it displays to the world how perseverant they will be; "nothing that can be taken away" because it's what they know how to easily obtain.
THE LYNX WITH A SOLUTION IS HOW THIS PILE IS REPRESENTED TO OTHERS, PLUS ROMANTIC PARTNERS. Unpredictable, braggadocious, reactive, and relentless; characteristics in common as they're shaped from a similar mold. Intuition is a prevalent factor as well, because like a lynx, Pile Three can interpret anyone's energy (i.e. "read the room") and quickly adjust. Watchful gaze and all. Analyzing sceneries has led them into assessment, coined the role of lieutenant. It's prominent for sure, I'm hearing "dictator" as in this is how querents come off. It's "unsettling", but in the way that rolls tingles up your spine. Commanding and directing is attached to them as a personality trait, it's born from their urge to take initiative. Doing things, learning things, attempting things at the drop of a dime and asserting their authority by getting it finished.
♰♰♰ Querents are able to play hot and cold (like the song), inevitably putting people in a box labeled "undetermined"; people don't know where they stand, might not even know how to, just because Pile Three never tells. Like a magician pulling a trick and walking offstage even with the audience unbeknownst to how it worked. "Let me in" is what people scream internally, while jumping through hoops and hell to prove that they're worth the risk. Maximum effort to impress querents, or at the very least get them to "reconsider" dropping their defense. "Lower their expectations", so partners can dream of a real chance. Safe to say that querents are more likely to give "tests" with no thought about reviewing them. ♰♰♰ It's highly plausible that assertion on Pile Three's end is a coverup over their ["raging"] insecurities. Internal, external, mental or physical doubts hide under their reign ("rule"), it's easier for querents to take charge in all areas because they can't control their mind. Before spiraling, before "shutdown" (mass destruction); breathing techniques ("practice") helps level them out when in the midst of breakdowns. Personal lives can be on the brink of crumbling to querents, this is a result of 'unhealthy' home environment(s) as they grew older—interpersonal relationships were likely affected most. Codependency is a result from this unhealed wound ("wounds"), as it feels like something physical will heal the void rather than actual treatment (e.g. therapy). Addiction to sex, substance, work, or gambling is rather prevalent, so seductiveness comes in the form of sinful vices. ♰♰♰ Pile Three was the only group to receive an extra card, which happens to be about making decisions and stepping outside comfort zones [2 of Wands]. I found this interesting considering this pile has trouble taking [and making] leaps of faith, they live by the rule of a schedule (anything outside of that doesn't see light of day fr); someone [according to the number two] could change that. Show them a whole new world outside of expectations, routine, and boredom lmao. What gets querents to open up and breathe for once, that this someone gives them space to register, download, and process; they feel like being alone with the lights off, something Pile Three wouldn't mind sharing with them in real life; "let them in".
WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴4oC. the Hanged Woman. 10oP. the Devil. 8oW. Death↺ [bod].
CHAMELEONS MARK QUERENTS ALTERNATE IDENTITY ("SPLIT PERSONALITY"), A SIDE OF THEMSELVES THAT ISN'T COMPOSED AND HIDDEN. It feels like the confines of a private party; hair messy, lips smudged, phone lost but the music keeps jumping. They're spinning round and round, pulling whoever's nearby into their circle. This shows in moments of comfort; setting a mood outside of their walls and head. Enjoying themselves to the max and inviting others to unwind also. It is sexy to loosen up and let your hair down, it's a "birthright" to bask in the moment. An outlook on free will that serene is destined for greatness, others can see it. In the bedroom, Pile Three turns the encounter into hotel service; five star rating from all the guests.
♰♰♰ Dominatrix/Dominant is the intensity I'm feeling, querent has the presence of a god. Everything's gone cold, lights are low and silence is near. "Secretary", E. Edward Gray vibes times ten (I even picture them cracking back an extra long whip). Definitely, definitely, definitelyyyy making people become their little sluts—overworking their existence with their own pleasure (woah :P). Indicates incessant teasing ("edging"), praise or punishment, and submission (mentally, physically). "Silence?" coming in could represent the use of rules, or it can be the calm after their partner's orgasm. Shutting down and regenerating all from Pile Three's conditions [e.g. sensory deprivation and multiple rounds]. It’s sexual Fear Factor, and many would love to play. ♰♰♰ Vanilla lovers are common and likely easily influenced; Pile Three gains the upper hand over others, but it's used to explore their fantasies. "How many licks to turn you out?" hence the overall dynamic of bedroom activity. Degradation when inflicted could dance on the harsher end (e.g. face smacking), but this also says meanness is a raging turn on (both querent and partner).
IT'S PLAUSIBLE THAT PEOPLE ARE SEDUCED DURING SEX, BECAUSE THROUGHOUT THE ENCOUNTER THEY'RE LOSING THEMSELVES JUST TO BE FOUND. Pile Three inhibits the role of a teacher, borderline disciplinarian, but all in the language of tough "love". Essentially, the dominance from them helps their partners with self discovery; helps them develop a newfound confidence in their identity. "Secretary" is coming in again, which isn't surprising since this pile resonates with the movie's theme. The main character, Lee, is a representation of querents spouse throughout their transformation; "on the path to redemption" with their own bodies. Butterflies floating from their cocoons to venture somewhere that's not home—these partners are butterflies once Pile Three travels along their bliss and ecstasy [as in life changing sex ;)].
♰♰♰ Oh, this the pile into wrapping their bedroom partners in rope or fluffy black cuffs; into withholding sweet relief when they have to cum. I'm hearing "soft", which alludes to a gentler side emerging whenever it's time to tie someone up [or implement use of bondage]. Fondness develops once Pile Three leans into this dynamic of rewards for submission; partners light up at the dualism because it reminds them that they're "loved" (i.e. cared for). ♰♰♰ Pile One had significant messages revolving around querents voice, and it's the same for Pile Three. Going off the downloads about demand and control, what's specifically seductive is hearing them speak; giving "instructions", whispering little nothings, essentially melting people's eardrums with word salad. Lol, it reminds me of how certain celebrities are urged to read audiobooks. It's erotic, but it's even better when it's meant for one person ("partner") to hear. I'm also channeling the use of querents voice, in the sense that they're vocalists in bed: "do it like that", "stay there", "i'm so close", "you feel that", etc. They're in [no way] afraid to praise or chide how their experience feels, dissatisfaction isn't an answer.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.
♡⃕ Victimization, "prone to experiencing projection." People pushing ideas onto their persona, not accepting querents for who they actually are. Black sheep ["of friends"]. Edgelord (traits). Pluto in 1H, 2H, or 3H. Sun could be in a water sign [Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces] and in 6H.
♡⃕ High profile, appearance is that of a model. "Diamond face"; head shape is acute, sharpened and definitive (e.g. strong jawline). Cheekbones accentuated with contour and highlighter "blush". Straight or "queen" shaped brows. Scorpio in Moon, Venus, or Mars.
♡⃕ Talking and letting it "all out" during sexual encounters. Directing people how they want—need* to be pleased. Definitely talks someone through it; softly whispering the filthiest shit ever lol. Stern and direct. Influence is in their "reasonings", natural convos imitate public speeches ("PSAs"). Presence that'd do wonders in a governmental field (the Pentagon, CIA, secret service). Mercury in 8H, 12H, conjunct IC (4H).
♡⃕ Rolling Stone' by the Weeknd reflects their inner thoughts ("monologue"). Missing people [or a person] that doesn't exist; lonely by ["a"] fault. Stoners, "being stoned" from troubles, using escapism as defense. Caged bird, but an escape isn't near (false). Father Time [Saturn] gifts them wisdom with maturity; development is their "greatest" friend. Meditative yoga, journaling, or music ground them tremendously.
♡⃕ 333; individuals that're lucky, "blessed by Jupiter." Purple aura, royal like mindset. Abundance in material possessions, large amounts that fall through when least expected. "Lumpsums" and it's a new car. Good karma surrounding finances, regime, and knowledge [seemingly 6H]. Could know friends who know "friends" [business opportunities, success]. "Hustlers."
♡⃕ Major Aquarian traits; innovative, intelligent, "indescribable." Could "LOL" a lot, they're likely to be cackling. Incorporates "spectacles" in everyday fashion (sunglasses, reading glasses, fun patterned glasses). Accessories that stand out like their music; multi-genre playlists that's all their taste. Into fruit smoothies or Greek yogurt. "Unconventional" (lifestyle).
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐕 𓆩❦︎𓆪
WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL⟶ 🎴 Creativity. 4oP. 5oP. Rest. 2oW↺. Ace of Pentacles↺. 6oP [bod].
THE CONNECTION TO THIS PILE WAS INSTANTANEOUS, MEANING QUERENTS ARE "TRANQUIL" IN SPIRIT, FLUID IN ENERGY. Pile Four's essence reminds me of coconut trees in Hawaii, leaves fluttering from the warmest of breezes; "tropical island" but in the form of their inner self. Child of the seas. Water nymph in her prime, having a beautiful voice is within this comparison; lessons will develop the clarity of their singing, "choir like" vocals. Aromatherapies could soothe disruptions querents face, scent itself is a huge part of their presence period. "Musk", "gourmand"; smelling delectable, but with an added hint of spice (e.g. cinnamon base). I'm downloading wafts of vanilla, caramel, cotton candy, and chocolate. A guilty pleasure, otherwise delightful to those that can't get a taste ["even tho they want to so bad"].
♰♰♰ Eyes are the most seductive feature of this pile, like the amount of pressure ("pleasure") people get after locking eyes is immense as hell. Naturally intense, resembling that of a tiger's—narrowed and penetrating. "Big ego". Sexiness can be found within their pupils, a tenacious gleam once it's turned on. Transformations are recurring here and partly because Pile Four chooses who they want to "be", slipping on a mask as if they're dressing for the part. "Which era am I stepping into today?" I'm channeling the planet Pluto, so there could dominant or prominent influence in the chart; querents have much passion hidden behind those irises and it hooks people. ♰♰♰ Charitable, generous beings reside within; attention is focused on Pile Four's desires to donate or give back. Not only partners, but people will generally find that level of empathy to be attractive. Humble and rich, whether that's in material assets or spiritual abundance, querents aren't hesitant to share. Pentacles are associated to wealth, so income is especially prominent; "big bank", accumulating revenue through their purposefulness. Humanitarianism is beloved from Pile Four because it's seen as genuine ("from the heart"). Forewarning to repress any sign of bragging, boasting, or full out greed since these are funds tied to karma; Saturn is the driving force because it's all hard earned and deserved, but he won't allow them to forget where they came from. Good behavior equals no testing trials or lessons, we want to keep it that way lol.
ENDEARMENT FROM THE COLLECTIVE WILL BE APPARENT; PEOPLE FIND IT QUITE DIFFICULT TO NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH PILE FOUR. I believe it's their truth and honesty, because they're undoubtedly the peacemaker for a *lot* of people's situations ("shortcomings"). "You've got a friend in me", meaning querents don't bash, they just expect better. Respect blooms once bathed in that light, it's "justified" (i.e. deserved). Honoring an opinion or perspective from this pile, because it's "essential for growth". Sun conjunct [or "trine"] Mercury or MC only emphasizes this air of importance. Utilizing communication and publicly speaking will be a part of this pile's rite of passage lol, definitely meant to be heard out loud (e.g. fighting for rights as a career). Also, raising awareness for a specific subject ("sensitive", controversial) will be a focal point regarding their presence in society—trailblazers.
♰♰♰ Personally, I'd be wary of the people this pile's around because some people are attracted to their sadness. With ill intention this is obviously weird, but harmless attraction would just be someone wanting to "save" Pile Four. Since they're one with inner power, it seems that nothing can shake their stability until it does. It's arousing when querents are in need because they usually never are; never asking for help, won't accept it neither [at least to anyone around that knows firsthand]. It's giving "the damsel's *finally* in distress", like people would leap in front of traffic if it meant they'd get to Pile Four first. Ngl, the other end of this spectrum is very loud—witch hunt vibes, as in "enemies" are literally praying to see querents suffer. Could be prominent later in life, but regardless I felt called to insert a message. Oddly, it's higher ups (bosses, managers) harboring this level of resentment; threatened by Pile Four's strength and potential [to succeed]. Be extremely cautious when at work (or in a workspace), I sense sabotage and framing ("accidents") when we know the real. ♰♰♰ While listening to music, I found myself coming across two separate versions of the same song; one was better than the other, which led me to believe that Pile Four experiences (or "will experience") copycatting and comparison from others. Specifically, partners or suitors who're in committed relationships and fail to keep querents out their fantasies. "Do it better" is being channeled, which also reminds me of being validated for something special ["that no one else has"]. Not to promote infidelity or being someone's sidepiece, but the favoritism isn't really being hidden lmao. This pile must be invested in spirituality or at the very least into the law of "what goes around comes around", because they're not tempted by any bait. They remember who karma is and how she operates, I don't picture them dipping into people's relationships for harmful doing at all. Using someone to their advantage, yes, but allowing themselves to come second place when someone's already first, hard pass.
WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴Knight of Wands. 8oC. the Emperor. 6oP. King of Swords. the Fool [bod].
DISCOVERING THAT THERE'S ANOTHER SIDE TO SOMEONE SECLUDED IS SUCH A HOT LITTLE SECRET, AND PILE FIVE'S IN ON IT ("DEVIANCY"). Seduction is their strip tease, a dance where each turn and grind is another piece of clothing on the floor. It's as if the quiet island essence drowned beneath heavy passion and eroticism. "Drenched." For some, private encounters ["at night"] could be a habitual pastime, a "hobby". Stress reliever it is, and partners will find joy in being the outlet. Enamor is found at the base of sexual encounters, as in partners find themselves "sinking" into querents love [let alone fall].
♰♰♰ The card spread is a telltale significator of being a freak, definitely needing someone who can "match it" all the same. Like the signs are signing, from the Fool (openness in sexual ideas) at the bottom of the deck to the eroticism that surrounds (encloses) me. I feel that loyalty and trust are the keys to Pile Five's sexual shop. Think those 18+ Instagram posts that're like, "I look innocent, but for that one person I'm the opposite." Querents are a personification of that energy, they're hard to read [sexually] unless someone's intentions say differently. Roleplaying could be a kink that's enjoyable, especially in a maid's outfit or "teacher student" attire; the effects of role reversal instill stability and confidence in their romantic relationships. ♰♰♰ King of Swords came through and despite not having an actual place in the spread, the card came with a download about Pile Four's ability to "take it". Be it longer length of a dick/dildo, nonstop orgasms, or multiple rounds—they're handling everything like a pro ;). "Extremely commendable." People's mouths are going to drop and hang open just from witnessing the durability in person, "making it disappear" isn't common. I'll even insert anal, just because it fits the bill in this context (taboo doesn't exist).
SCENTS HAVE WAFTED TO THE SEXUAL SIDE, PUTTING EMPHASIS ON THE "SMELL" OF DESIRE. Smelling lovely, carrying an ambience of rose petals and candlelight. I've compared another pile to being an aphrodisiac and it also applies to querents; pheromones cloud and permeate the senses of partners, keeps them strung ["on what they're going to have"]. It's telling how drawn in they are, I see them hanging around Pile Four like flies to fresh fruit. Nobody likes to let go, in turn encouraging themselves to stay; "know I gotta leave, but I want to stay." Hearts growing fonder no matter the distance. Selena Quintanilla's presence and aura to the collective, and how that light is missed everyday—Pile Four.
♰♰♰ Naturalness is liberation to querents, their body hair isn't shunned or shamed. "Carefree". Bushes are attractive to not only them, but their lovers as well. It's the normalcy of two people bonding in bed, I think it's a ["stress"] relief to turn off being perfect just to be human. Feels bohemian in the sense of living by the choice; inspiring body positivity. Innocent, but it's attractive enough that partners want to "go down" more frequently ;P. It just adds more uumph to an encounter. ♰♰♰ There's a specific person that came in, someone who devotes ("dotes") their happiness on Pile Four's satisfaction (*for some*). Regardless, I'm channeling messages about foot massages and bathtubs ["together"]; "extreme" TLC after passionate sessions; chocolates fed to them, etc. Romcom acts of service, sweet nothings and dates as long as they're treating querents (i.e. together). Whoever this energy belongs to, they're practically marriage material [and a munch].
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.
♡⃕ Tons of fame indicators, querents could find themselves in the public eye once this lifetime. Skepticism around their authenticity, and if they're "cut out" for the scrutiny (otherwise backlash). Nitpicking about appearance being "too hot" and "sexy". Wild and famous. Sun (“conjunct Mercury”) or Lilith could be in 10H. Could have personal planets or placements in Capricorn or Libra [i.e. Saturn ruled].
♡⃕ "Eye catching" type of beauty. Attractivity resembles that of a model, influencer, or "guru"; gorgeous ass people. Androgynous features (well balanced between masc and fem energies). Exhibits the cut and value ("grace") of pink white diamonds. Could be Venusian [Rising, Moon, and Venus in Libra].
♡⃕ Virgin, practicing celibacy, or abstinence; haven't had penetrative sex "yet". Staying to themselves, rejecting new partners (flings), respect around the body. "Not letting anyone touch." Body isn't a joking matter, taken very seriously. Potential health scares [or "hospital visits"]. Prone to sending, posting, or saving nude pics.
♡⃕ Expensive jewels in their favorite pieces of jewelry; never seen without it [necklace, bracelet, “pendant”]. Red rubies or emeralds could have significance (e.g. birth stone, parent’s name etc.). People see them as “luxurious”. Debbie Jellinksy in ‘Addams Family Values’. Spoiled babies, but not without reason. Bargainers [“and deals”]. Jealous themes regarding fashion, beauty, and influence (themselves included).
♡⃕ Going into hiding, "Hermit mode" for a soul cleanse (refresher). Transformative as hell. Disappearing for months at a time just to reappear a "new" person; even more beautiful, "collected", and better than before. Unrecognizable (in a good way). "Money Longer" by Lil Uzi Vert. Pluto dominant, their ability to shed skin and birth anew is apparent ("respected"). Noticed in *every* room they've ever stepped in ("blessing and a curse").
♡⃕ Free the oppressed (“Palestine” and more); boycotting message, either to start or continue. Stop drinking coffee from Starbucks, it’s being frowned upon [“spiritual guidance”], people's lives are at stake. They’re important—they matter.
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐕 𓆩❦︎𓆪
WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN GENERAL ⟶ 🎴 Abundance↺. Knight of Wands↺. the Magician. Rejection↺. Ace of Swords. the Star. Knight of Cups↺ [bod].
PILE FIVE'S PRESENCE IS ILLUMINATED BY THEIR OUTER PROMINENCE, THEIR "STAR" SHINE (HENCE THE STAR CARD). I've noticed that all five piles have this certain glow to their energies, their personalities can revive a dark room. In this instance, Pile Five's personality is what's alluringly magnetic, it's "seduction" at its truest form. Envision if a person wanted to build their lover, they'd pick characteristics from querents admirabilities. "Sensuous" and amicable, somehow much more than expected (alongside individual uniqueness). Adept with an artistic approach, querents bestow fine talents—performing onstage (i.e. singing, dancing), creative writing, interior or fashion design, etc. Makes them exceptionally special, more so in the public eye; "starstruck". "Nice & Slow" can allude to querents steadiness in attaining their goals, taking the long route for lasting (rewarding) results.
♰♰♰ Embodying traits of people's ideal person (i.e. "perfection") is one of the main factors of being seduced; reminding them that humans aren't one dimensional, that we're made up of universal qualities. Humor would be the best example, because it's not a requirement to be with someone funny, until you realize that you love to laugh. Pile Five has this natural likeliness, they're able to be relatable without coming off as a flake ("try hard"); they're a breath of fresh air, a "relief". Youthfulness is a key factor as well, subtle mannerisms and expressions that thump through people's hearts; "twinkling eyes" and sweet smiles. The wonder in querents eyes is especially prominent, everyone notices at first glance. Literally the Star card, lighting up the nighttime. ♰♰♰ I envision this pile having many friends, being the favorite person in a lot of people's lives. A bestfriend, even to passing strangers. I'm hearing "polly pocket", which says people don't ["ever"] want to outgrow playing with Pile Five. (i.e. spend time with them). Spilling secrets, getting/giving advice, and trusting forever comes with this pile's care package lol; they're the sun for someone else's rainy day ("a confidant"). All above is the answer to "what's so beautiful about them?" Inner beauty is perceived to be felt "by all". Beautiful generosity is what I'm hearing, so querents hospitality is noteworthy. Getting-people-awestruck energy.
QUERENTS DEMEANOR DANCES ALONG THE LINES OF BEING RESERVED AND STRICT. BEING DEFINITIVE IS THE BETTER WORD, THEY'RE APT TO EARNESTY. If Virgo placements are present then this level of poise comes effortlessly, it's a part of them. Primitive and prestigious, people find these attributes to be "fascinating". Miranda Priestly from "the Devil Wears Prada" is who I visualize Pile Five to be; attentiveness to detail, pristine image from successes, a name upheld by its holder. Her character struts with diligence and strives for the greatest opportunities (it's in querents presence). Not letting up on a goal and seeing it to the end draws everyone in; "making shit happen" with devotion catches everyone's attention (enamoring).
♰♰♰ Getting feisty and excessive cussing is a part of querents likability; "randomness" in their words or expressionism. Lol "loudmouthing" is coming in, so they're bound to going off in the heat of moment ["or any time of day"]. The wheel generator (unexpectedness) of their speech is their bat signal, but especially when they're feeling mean. People may project weakness onto this pile—not taking them seriously—until it's their turn to get told off ("caught in the crossfire"). Harmless until they detonate :P, people are reminded that Pile Five has two separate sides. ♰♰♰ Their facial features are accentuated for luring (attracting) attention "wherever they are"; recognition for how irresistible they look to other people. Characteristics of an "angel", plump (cherubic) cheeks or apple like cheekbones. Highlighter serves them well, makes their appearance "radiant", can resemble the Sun. Broad shoulders, toned calves, or a built figure; seduction in their flex, or in moments where they're on display (e.g. in a swimsuit). I see them invoking the spirit of a Taurus [bull] and arousing tenaciousness in lovers. If it was possible to do, someone would paint Pile Five's face to hang in the Louvre.
WHAT'S SEDUCTIVE IN BED ⟶ 🎴8oC↺. 10oP↺. Ace of Swords. the Lovers. Page of Pentacles. Queen of Cups [bod].
HAVING AN EFFECTS OF HEAVY DRUGS WOULD BE AN IDEAL REFERENCE TO PILE FIVE’S SEDUCTIVENESS. All it takes is just one dose, because right after that is when the addiction begins (i.e. obsessive lovers). It's not uncommon for this group to attract internet watchers or stalkers, otherwise past partners that don't want to leave them alone; "can't get enough" of their love, aimlessly wondering if Pile Five's wondering too. "Made for everyone", as in "one taste and you're whipped". Don't be afraid to indulge, especially if it's the best you'll ever get. The pile that got away for a lot of past lovers [111, 1111 is significant].
♰♰♰ Wetness and fluids are big with querents, the first thing I channeled was "water fountain" (cream). It's making me giggle, because private areas can be seen as a "problem" from producing so much liquid. This can indicate "magic" genitals, private parts sprinkled in glitter. Orgasms from this pile are the "gift that keeps on giving", like people's self-worth (value) end up skyrocketing lol. "Heaven sent" plus the gift of pleasure leaves the impression of God's angel on others. Breeding or ["multiple"] creampies as a kink, because lovers find themselves absorbing the excess ("wanting it all", if you catch my drift..). Water is heavy [throughout the spread] which confirms many messy situations ;). ♰♰♰ Lips, lips, lips: kissing and feeling them is an experience, a solidified moment in anyone's lives if they're granted the chance. Pile Five's kisses (mouth in general) is an escape, a getaway the promised land ["of ecstasy"]. Kisses are delectable, tasting dessert-esque (sugary, savory). Flavors of peppermint or "candy" is prominent, otherwise satiating the desire. Also, the red lips on Sabrina's cover art gives me the idea of being kissed all over; the body, face, and "soul". A level of expertise this high means Pile Five is [or will be] a lot of people's "first"; love, orgasm, or fulfilling relationship. I don't believe there's anything about them that won't get someone turned on and yearning.
AS IT'S BEEN SO POTENT, PILE FIVE'S ACCESS TO A HIGHER SOURCE OF POWER IS GRATIFYING; DIVINITY LIES WITHIN BED, IT'S AN AWAKENING OUTSIDE OF THE BODY. Sex is inherently spiritual, because to partners the encounter isn't "of this Earth". To me, I envision it as beams of light poking (pouring) through the mind and spirit of whoever's with this pile, essentially aligning physical pleasure to mental (i.e. their psyche) bliss. That's to say, any form of sex is tantric and transcendental. People will be taken aback (at first), but that's due to the encounter being as sacred as it is; the intention (or "practice") is too important to interrupt before it begins.
♰♰♰ It's hard to not claim this pile as being perfect, but omg the downloads just validate the sentiment. There's not one hair on querents body that isn't adorned and appreciated, this reigns even more true if they're in a committed connection (i.e. special person). No matter how they envision themselves, to the collective their existence is "exalted" and favored. Skin could even glow during and after sex, because they're so cherished; "everything they think they aren't" is debunked at their most vulnerable (nakedness). Laving on their sensitive spots (legs, thighs, feet) is a token of gratitude from lovers, it'll happen frequently considering how devoted to Pile Five they'll be. ♰♰♰ This is coming in so intensely, querents have the mouth of an oral [sex] god. Nothing short of a munch, they leave marks with their tongue or throat; pulling people into their utopia (i.e. ecstasy). Ecstasy is recurring word for this pile, hence being compared to a drug, an indicator for sex that's "numbing". During head, partners are bound to throw their heads ["and hands"] upwards. The pressure of being sucked into the void is "stilling", the calm before a ravage storm. Lmao, they get people stuck with their mouths on 'o'. Minds on cloud nine, limbs so light from relaxation they "could float"—blown. This pile is made up of lovers that give and give, until they can't give anymore. It's as if oral is a "souvenir", an experience meant to be collected forever more.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐒.
♡⃕ "Ironheart"; has the courage of the [cowardly] lion, bravery is learned (earned). Lightning strike(s) of a person, turns heads and charges surroundings with their intensity; energy is incomparable. Uranus could be a part of big three [Sun, Moon, Rising], Uranus dominant or in 1H/2H. Authors (writing can "revitalize" people, give them a wakeup call).
♡⃕ Connected to their highest form ("truest self"), receives messages through [or "from"] the Universe. Alienlike; "not of this Earth." What's on the inside (soul) reflects what's on their "face" (e.g. feeling good internally so they're extra smiley in person). Balanced. "Sacral chakra" alignment is a godsend for sex [can top or ride well]. Stomach is people's favorite part; birthmark, belly piercing, tattoo(s) above the waist.
♡⃕Insecurities are a part of them; "stories" about overcoming disappointment. Secretive to a fault ("can hold water" forever). Believes in trust and exposing what's on the inside—"bareface" (might also be more present at their "rawest"). Holds the key to the world (i.e. everyone's secrets). Consciousness. Lmao, fucking with them is a spiritual ass whooping full of drawbacks [and lessons]. Powerful ancestors (spirit team).
♡⃕ "Thank you" is their passage to life. Grateful for the smallest and largest things; "tearing up" over sentiments. Type to thank their lover for giving them orgasms ["submissive"]. "Soothing" voices; can converse or "rock" anyone to sleep (comforting). Cancer placements could be prominent [Sun, Moon, Venus][Lunarian].
♡⃕ "Bed Chem" by Sabrina Carpenter, might be "short and sweet". Emulates the energy of a little person ("smol"). Hair can be long, full and thick too [great for tugging, wrapping, or "pulling" in bed]. Cocoon, people don't want [them] to leave. Rich and "domestic" (motherly) singing voice. People like (love) to hear them whisper [Mercurial].
♡⃕ Artistic (artists at heart); creativity is all they know, all they breathe. Life path number 3/4, 5m [artistry]. Would do well onstage, might've experienced Broadway, could dream of visiting ("talent"). Pleasers (they're really submissive); lovers give them "everything" (i.e. drowning in ecstasy). Devotion is a personality trait. Pisces could be a part of their big six [Sun, Moon, Rising, Mercury, Venus, Mars][Neptunian].
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
© BITDEMONIC 2024
#lovebitdemonic ψ#bitdemonic#new pac#pick a card#pick a pile#tarot#bitdemonic masterlist#18+ tarot#self love#something chronic#shufflemancy#channeled message#Spotify
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Sea Salt Cigarettes
Wife Sevika x Female Wife Reader (Fluff + Modern AU)
Not Proofread!! MEN DNI!!
Summary: On a honeymoon at the beach, you and your wife smoke a cigarette on the balcony of your suit.
Contains: Sexual tension, suggestive topics, and Sevika having both her arms.
A/N: Writers block is a reallll thing, but IM BACKKK!!
` 𓂃 ོ𓂃 `
Early mornings on the beach were beautiful.
The cool, summer breeze blew past you and your wife as the two of you looked out over to the sea from the balcony of your suit. The water was still and peaceful, so was the rest of the resort. You enjoyed the solitude with Sevika, for there were no crying children, no men, and not a single soul on the soft sand. The beach was bare and gorgeous.
Not to mention just how happy you were.
It had been a long night after your wedding, you knew it’d be. Getting your back blown was exactly what you’d expected, and you had to beg for her, your wife, to soften up, for that woman was going to tear your pussy open.
Staying up all night was a blast, really, and that’s what led you to lean against the railings of the balcony to smoke a cigarette. Sevika didn’t let you use your hands, she held the joint inbetween her fingers and did it for you. You didn’t mind, less work on your part, and you got to watch as the sun rose and shone it’s orange light onto the glistening, blue water.
You were a disheveled mess and were sure if anyone saw you they’d think you were a ghost. But even with your hair roughened up, mascara and lipstick smudged, tanktop thrown on without a bra, Sevika thought you looked stunning. Not to mention your stained shorts. Your wife, however, looked neat. She had on her usual wife beater, the only thing she’ll be beating is your pussy, and her casual shorts; the two fabrics covered her toned and muscular body. Her hair was out and about, flowing with the soft breeze that flew past the two of you.
She wrapped an arm around you as she held the cigarette to your mouth for you to pull the air into your lungs. Your wife only smiled before running her big fingers through your hair to even it out. “You alright?” She murmured, voice soft and gentle as she pulled closer and pressed a kiss on your head. “Yeah, why?.. Is it my makeup?” You, knowing her answer, gave her a playful smile. The smoke left you to get carried away by the wind. “Yes and no. You’re less chatty than usual..”
“True that.” You were “less chatty,” only because of the ache in your back, all that arching had came to bite, and the sore in your knees; which would give out if you tried moving too swiftly.
Your wife pressed another kiss on your head before turning her attention onto the cigarette in her hand. You follow suit and look down at the hickeys on your ankle, the two of you really went all out. There was a moment of comforting silence, the only things breaking it were the seagulls flying by and the waves crashing onto the shore.
“I thought honeymoons were for couples trying to get pregnant.” You, breaking the silence, playfully whisper out and elbow Sevika. “You’d be pregnant by now if I had a third leg.” She returned, her hand moving to pull you flush against her side. “Oh, like hell it’d be that big.” Your words were chuckled out as you leaned forward to take another inhale of the joint.
It would be big. Probably too big for you to handle.
Your wife only scoffed and turned her head to you. “It would, actually. That’s why I wasn’t given one, I’d be unstoppable.” You groan and cringe at her retort before blowing the smoke in her face for her to smile at. “Watch it, doll. I can have you right back on that bed again.”
Again, she was right, one wrong word and she’d throw you over her shoulder and fuck the audacity out of you.
“Yeah, alright..” you stare out at the sea, it was a sight you couldn’t get enough of. The sun had just come up and the sky was painted with oranges and reds. “Anyways..” your wife gave your waist a pat, “my earlier question; you okay?”
“My back hurts.” You answer, and, almost immediately, Sevika’s large hand traveled to your lower back to rub soothing motions on it. “Figured. Thought you’d break it on the bed earlier.” She teased, leaning closer to press a series of kisses on your head. “You’re gonna smother me with those,” “you don’t seem to mind.” She had you there. “I don’t. I’m just surprised you’re still this eager.”
You’d think Sevika would be satisfied with the amount of sex the two of you had, satisfied with the amount of different positions and the number of orgasms the two of you had shared, but no. The woman could go for more.
She flashed you an amusement smile all the while extinguishing the cigarette and turning to face you completely. “Eager? How could I not be?” Her tone full of fondness, she tilted her head. “I’m married to the prettiest woman alive, you expect me to be.. what? Casual?” With a huff of a chuckle, Sevika pulled you flush against her muscular chest and leaned down to close the distance between your lips and hers.
Her dark lips pecked a kiss onto yours and she pulled back, though she was still a breath away. “I.. really.. want you in that bed again..”
Like hell you’d say no to that.
“You have my permission to break my back.” You cup her face and let her kiss you towards the bed; where she’d, again, fuck you sore.
Your spine was screwed. Completely and utterly fucked, just like you were.
⋆。𖦹 °. 𓇼 ⋆❀˖°
#lesbian#sevika arcane#lgbtq#arcane#sevika#fanfic#arcane sevika#sevika x female reader#sevika x you#sevika x y/n#sevika x reader#i love sevika#sevika fluff#arcane fluff#wlw fluff#fluff#arcane fanfic#sevika fanfic#x female y/n#ellie x fem reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#men dni#fanfic writing#jiggle jiggle#wlw fanfic#wlw#wlw community#minors dni#i hate men
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MY SUNSET ˚✧゚
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Artist!Reader
Summarize: Reader is painting while she waits for Rafe to come home.
Warning(s): none, I guess. Rafe's daddy issues.
A/N: Something cozy cause we're all humans, right? Feedback is always heartwarming!
The evening sun cast a warm glow across the beach house, settling into soft, golden patches on the walls. Rafe stood in the doorway, loosening his tie with one hand, his other rubbing at his neck. His face showed exhaustion – a subtle droop in his eyes, a faint frown line between his brows that deepened with every passing day. He let out a sigh, dropping his briefcase by the door with a dull thud. Being the man of the family could be exhausting sometimes.
Your eyes were trained on the canvas while you brushed steady strokes on it. The loud music playing on the headphone helping you to not overthink your decisions about this piece. You wanted it to be natural, something from deep within you.
Rafe knew that after calling out for you a couple of times and getting no responses where to find you.
You were so focused on the painting that you didn't even notice when he opened the back door and walked down the stairs, moving behind you. He waited until you moved the brush away from the canva to lean down and place a kiss on your cheek.
He smiled agaisnt your skin as you jumped in place, dodging your srained brush when you placed your hand on your chest.
"How long have you been here? I didn't see you coming." You smiled at him, your cheeks burning from the jumpscare as you placed the brush down, wiping your hands on the cloth.
"I just arrived and assumed you'd be here."
You titled your head to the side, a small smile on your lips as you notice his tired eyes and heavy shoulders. “Long day?”
He looked down, a faint smile breaking through his fatigue. “You could say that” He murmured, unbottoning the fa few buttons of his shirt and making his way over to you.
You were sitting cross-legged on the outside couch, dry paint smudged on your fingers and a touch of blue staining your cheek, making you look like a work of art yourself in Rafe's eyes. Brushes and a half-finished canvas rested on the table nearby, and Rafe’s eyes softened at the sight of you. There was something utterly comforting about coming back home to you - like when that orange sunray hits your skin during a sunset.
He slumped down beside you, his shoulders sagging, and you reached out without thinking, your hand tracing lightly over his shoulder. “You’re so tense.” You remarked, your fingers pressing gently into the tight knots at the base of his neck.
You couldn't remember the last time Rafe took a break. A real one and not those parties Topper and Kelsey were always inviting him to.
Rafe closed his eyes, a sigh slipping from his lips as he leaned into your touch. “Feels like I’m carrying the world around” he muttered, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
You chuckled softly, shifting to kneel behind him. “Well, the world can wait. Let me help.” Your hands found his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the firm muscle, working through layers of tension with slow, careful strokes.
Rafe’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath, his head dipping forward as he surrendered to your touch. You could feel him loosening under your fingers, the hard lines of his posture softening. His breathing grew slower, deeper, as though your touch had grounded him.
"You and those magic hands, huh." You could hear the smirk in his voice, chuckling.
You leaned in, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Think you can relax for a few minutes?”
His lips curved, eyes still closed, and he mumbled, “I’ll try.”
You continued working your hands down his back, your fingers firm but tender, kneading out knots with a gentle persistence. You felt his shoulders drop further, his body melting under your care. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching occasionally as he let go of the stress of the day. You tilted your head a bit to watch his face, his expression easing from its usual guarded tension to something softer, almost vulnerable.
Rafe’s voice came, a low murmur. “You know… I don’t think anyone’s ever done this for me before.”
Your hands paused, just for a beat, and then resumed their steady rhythm. Your heart sank with realization. “Really?” You brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Then it’s about time.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “Guess I got lucky with you.” His head tilted slightly, a faint glint in his eyes as he looked back at you.
Your smirked, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks warmed. “Well, someone has to keep you in line.” You gently squeezed his shoulder, a playful edge to her touch.
Rafe’s lips twitched, his gaze softening as he moved his hands to your waist, bringing you to straddle his lap. “And you’re perfect for the job, aren’t you?”
Your fingers slowed, your hands resting on his shoulders as you shared a quiet look. You could feel his heartbeat steady beneath your touch as you moved your fingers down to his chest, and something unspoken passed between them - a silent understanding, a comfort found only in each other’s presence. Home.
Rafe lingered under your touch a little longer, breathing in that familiar scent of paint and something floral, your presence a gentle balm to the weight he carried daily. The silence between you was thick with an unspoken intimacy, but he found he didn’t mind it. For the first time in hours, he felt at ease.
After a few minutes, you slid down beside him on the couch, leaning your head back against the cushion, your fingers still tracing absent patterns along the exposed skin of his chest. He tilted his head to glance at you, a hint of curiosity sparking in his gaze as he noticed the streak of paint on your cheek again.
“Still working on that painting?” His voice was softer, the edge worn off by your presence.
You followed his gaze to her paint-streaked fingers, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah… lost track of time. It’s been tough getting it right. I just...” You paused, looking off thoughtfully before turning back to him. “You ever feel like something is close to being perfect, but you can’t quite… capture it?”
Rafe considered her words, his gaze flickering down to your nails scratching the paint off your skin and taking your hand in his, a stark contrast to his own. Smaller, warmer. Your dedication to your art, to something so different from his structured world, was something he admired - quietly, almost reverently.
“All the time.” He said, his voice low. “It’s like there’s this… picture in your head, but you can’t reach it. Can’t even touch it sometimes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against a tender spot you had just relieved. His mind went back to the role model of a son his dad expected him to be and how he could never get even close to that, even when he thought he was making progress. “But I’m guessing yours involves a little more paint."
You smiled, a soft laugh slipping out as you reached over, your fingers grazing his cheek, leaving a faint blue smudge. “Looks like you’re part of the art now, too.”
Rafe gave her a mock glare, though his eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. “Glad I could help,” he said dryly, but he didn’t wipe it off. Instead, he leaned in, kissing your shoulder. “So, what’s this masterpiece gonna be?”
You hesitated, tucking your legs beneath you as you angled toward him, your expression almost shy. Rafe couldn't understand how humble you were and sometimes even insecure about your art when everything you did was breathtaking. “It’s… it’s supposed to be a mix of things. Like… nature and people and everything kind of blending together. But it’s tough. Every time I think I have it, I look again, and it’s just not there yet.”
Rafe’s gaze softened. “You’ll get there.” The words held more confidence than he often felt himself. “You always do.”
You looked at him, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “You’re biased.”
He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, though.”
Both of you settled into a comfortable silence, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped around you almost instinctively. The world beyond the backyard faded away, the pressures and stresses replaced by the quiet hum of familiarity, of being home.
After a few minutes, you stirred, breaking the silence. “You know… we could both use a break.” Your voice was light, but there was a note of longing in it.
Rafe raised an eyebrow, curious. “Thinking of a getaway?”
“Maybe.” You looked at him, your eyes bright with something he hadn’t seen in a while. “I mean, we talk about it all the time, but… I don’t know. What if we just went somewhere? Just us. No work, no deadlines. Just… you and me and a week with nothing but time.”
He considered it, the idea settling over him with surprising appeal. Work had been unrelenting, and the idea of stepping away - for a short while - sounded like the relief he hadn’t realized he needed. And the thought of you beside him, somewhere far from the noise of his daily life, was… tempting.
“Anywhere in mind?” he asked, his voice a shade lighter, almost teasing.
You tapped her chin thoughtfully, your eyes drifting as though you could already see it. “A beach maybe… with clear blue water, warm sand. Or… I don’t know, maybe somewhere with lots of art and history. Or a cozy cabin with nothing around us but trees and stars at night.”
Rafe chuckled, amused by your enthusiasm. “So… every vacation idea, basically.”
You nudged him playfully, your laughter filling the room. “It’s called variety, Rafe. Ever heard of it?”
His lips quirked up, and he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers. “Alright, let’s say… I’m in. Where’s the one place you’d want to go first?”
Your eyes softened, a dreaminess overtaking her expression as you mulled it over. “Italy,” you said finally. “Can you imagine? All that history, the food, the art… and the coastline. We could spend days wandering through old streets and galleries, then head to the beach by sunset.”
The way you spoke about it painted a vivid picture, and he found himself wrapped up in the idea, too but truth be told: he'd go anywhere with you. Even being locked in the bedroom with you would be a dreamy vacation. “Italy” He repeated, rolling the word around as if it were a foreign but tantalizing concept. “Never been. But I could go for that. Though… if we’re going, you’re gonna have to handle the language part.”
Your grin widened, your eyes dancing at the idea of trying to use all the Italian you learned by yourself a few years ago, at the possibility of leaving the country for the first time. “Consider it done.”
They talked late into the night, exchanging dreams and ideas for that trip, letting themselves get lost in fantasies of cobblestone streets, Italian sunsets, and lazy mornings. Rafe found himself captivated by the way your eyes sparkled, the way your voice softened whenever you spoke about the art, the people, the life waiting beyond their world.
At some point, he had leaned back, his head tilted against the couch, watching you more than really listening, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with their imagined vacation.
Your voice dropped as you continued talking, your words like a gentle rhythm in the background, and he realized you had a way of drawing him in, pulling him out of the exhausting reality he was constantly entrenched in. You were his escape, his sanctuary.
Eventually, your words trailed off, and you glanced over, her eyes catching him in a lingering, soft look. “Are you sure you're really in for this?”
He blinked, surprised by the intensity of the connection he felt in that moment. “Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it held a depth of sincerity. ��With you? Absolutely.”
For a while, you simply looked at each other, the quiet promise of your shared dreams hanging in the air. You moved closer, tucking yourself against him, your hand resting on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.
And as they drifted off, the night wrapping them in its quiet embrace, Rafe knew that no matter where life took them - Italy, the beach, or even just their own city - you'd be there beside him.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron oneshot#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron outerbanks#rafe cameron x you
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day 8 - gifts [ s.reid ]
spencer reid x fem!reader
content warnings; fluff, r sits in spencer’s lap, r is wearing makeup (at least eyeshadow and eyeliner)
notes; bit of an abrupt ending lol
kinktober/flufftober masterlist
—————
spencer was sat at his desk in his apartment, typing up a case report on his laptop after work when you came up to him. you slid your hands over his shoulders, before leaning down and hugging him from behind. he revelled in the weight of your head pressing into his neck, leaning his own into you slightly.
he noted that one of your hands was closed over something, but your fingers were too tightly wrapped around it for him to be able to get a good enough look and figure out what it was.
he tilted his head, kissing along your arm, gently nipping occasionally before muttering into your skin a soft, “hi, angel.”
you hummed, pulling away languidly then turning his wheelie desk chair around so that he was facing you. he reclined back, shifting his hips forward to accommodate for you. his lean arms wrapped around you snugly as you clambered on top of him, curling your legs underneath you and resting your head on his shoulder again.
your sweet apricot perfume wafted over him, he wasn’t usually a fan of fruity perfumes, finding that they tended to be a stronger scent and gave him migraines, but yours was a perfect blend on your skin. he breathed you in, fingertips running up and down your thigh soothingly.
“what you got there?” he queried.
you slowly unclenched your fingers, revealing a couple of pretty stones that sat on your palm. he took them gently, thumbing over the cool objects.
one was marbled with brown, orange and caramel swirling together, creating uneven stripes and loose spirals. it was covered in imperfections- chips and scratches lining it’s surface.
the other was a smokey grey, so shiny it was almost mirrored. it was very smooth, opposite of the first pebble with next to no marks.
they were both very pretty, and he thought that they were sort of like the two of you- one all shiny and polished, perfect- whilst the other was a little roughed up and tarnished. however, he knew you’d get upset if he told you this, always hating that he was so hard on himself.
“they’re for you, i found them when i was out on my walk. i washed them already, don’t worry,”
you fiddled with the end up his shirt, chewing your bottom lip nervously as your gaze flitted over his features, examining his expression.
“i love them, baby. thank you,” he smoothed over your hair, before gently cleaning up the smudged eyeliner that had begun to muddy your pretty pink eyeshadow, “i’ll cherish them forever.”
you hummed, visibly pleased and all sunny smiles as you looked up at him, basking under his loving touches.
“did you know that male penguins gift a pebble to someone they wish to mate?” he returned your gaze, veiny hand still holding your face, “it’s a sort of engagement ring for them.”
“i did not, that’s so cute. do you know why they do it?”
“i do! there’s not much research that’s been done on it, but it’s believed to be to show that the male penguin is capable of looking after the female, and any chicks they may have, as their nests are built from them, to keep them above any melting ice.”
“that can’t be very comfortable,”
he chuckled softly at your frown, adoring that you were fretting so much over penguins contentment. spencer bent his head down to kiss your chewed-up lips, laughing again when you flushed and quickly buried your head in his neck.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer x reader#spencer reid imagine#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer fluff#fluff#flufftober#flufftober 2024#flufftober 24#kinktober 24#kinktober#kinktober 2024#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds#cm#spencer reid cm
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Hi! I love your writing and have had a shit day. Basically car troubles and a flat tire. All I could think about was Logan ‘yelling’ at me for not asking for his help and being upset I tried to do everything myself. Could you write something like this with an established relationship? Just super soft and fluffy with Logan just being scared you could’ve gotten hurt. Thanks! ♥️
Oh no, I’m so sorry you had a bad day today! Hopefully tomorrow’s better!
Today’s just proof that Murphy’s law is still alive and true. You’ve tried every single troubleshooting method you can think of and still your car refuses to just fucking work.
It gets to a point, it really fucking does.
Your head hits the steering wheel, too tired to care about the loud blaring that follows. “For the love of god, please move,” you beg, and you hear the best noise you’ve ever heard in your life—the sound of your engine whirring to life.
“Yes, yes!” You cry, hands immediately moving to the steering wheel. You start thanking every deity you know and then some, slowly
Unfortunately for you, luck is not on your side. You get maybe half a mile before you feel the car jump, followed by the worst sound of your life—the air escaping from your tire.
You feel the tears welling in your eyes, defeat sinking down into your very core. You don’t even have the strength to curse, staring ahead into the empty road as your view gets lower and lower. The thought of swapping your tire crosses your mind, but you’re so mentally drained that even getting out of your car seems impossible.
So, you sit in the drivers seat and cry while the sun goes down. By the time you compose yourself the sky bleeds orange, your phone ringing with an all too familiar contact number.
Begrudgingly you pick up, the sound of your husband’s voice clear through the receiver. “Hey honey, haven’t heard from you all day.”
Silence.
“Sweetheart, you there?”
“Y-Yeah,” you answer. “I’m here.”
You can almost hear his expression through the phone—you imagine he’s suddenly on alert from the sound of his footsteps, worry in his voice. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
The words bring a flood of emotion through you—rage, sadness, mostly defeat. You feel yourself shaking again as a fresh wave of tears begin to fall down your cheeks.
“My engine broke Lo,” you sniffle. “It broke, and I tried to fix it but it wouldn’t—it wouldn’t turn on and I tried—“
You’re hyperventilating now, and somewhere far away you can hear Logan telling you to calm down, but it only makes you panic even further. “It wouldn’t work, and I did everything right and then it did! And I was so happy Lo, thought I did everything right and right when I started moving I got a flat fucking tire and everything’s going wrong and—“
“Honey, breathe, please,” he pleads through the phone, but you’re still crying. “Stay where you are, I’ve got you on gps, I’ll be there in ten.”
“I’m sorry,” you whimper, wiping at your wet face with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault—“
“No, no, we are not doing that,” he interrupts. “Stay where you are, I’m coming to you, don’t panic, okay?”
You sniffle, nodding your head. “Y-Yeah, okay.”
“Say it back to baby, say you won’t panic.”
You nod again. “I won’t—I won’t panic.”
“Good,” he replies, the telltale jingle of car keys loud through the phone. “Want me to stay with you on the phone while I drive?”
“Please,” you say, still trying to steady yourself. From the corner of your eye you see yourself, and you look like a wreck. Red in the face, fingers and clothes stained from working on the engine, ugly black smudges that only serve to remind you of your failure.
“Hey, focus on my voice, alright?” He says. “I’m almost there, just keep calm.”
What was only a few minutes felt like hours, the sight of his car coming over the horizon enough to bring you to tears for the third time today.
“Hey, hey, you’re alright,” he coos, pulling you out from the car with a hand against your back. “You’re good, everything’s fine.”
You’re trembling in his arms, guilt flowing through him at the sight of you in pain. You’re holding onto him so tightly, as if he’d disappear if you didn’t. Your first words to him are a mess, and all he can do is rub your head as you get it all out. “I’m sorry for making you come here.”
He shakes his head in disagreement, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t be sorry, I’m happy to be here. Next time you’re in trouble, just call me, okay honey?”
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Secret
Pairing: Ekko x gn!Firefly!reader
Tags: Not established relationship; no specific details abt R, only that they’re shorter than Ekko; mention of Shimmer as drugs; FLUFF
A/n: Another cute idea for a one-shot, enjoy 🫶🏻🤭 Plus, so many new Snowflakes joined, so in general welcome 💖❄️
The air was thick with tension, all of the fighters at the Tree were together in Ekko’s office, a massive map laid out on his desk, which, for this occasion, was put in the middle of the whole room. It was already past midnight, children and other people sound asleep while the group was having a heated argument. Everyone was tired, but the adrenaline rush that was palpable was keeping them awake. The arguments started to get louder, the debate about where Silco’s gang is going to show up the next time starting and finishing without a single, normal, or logical outcome.
The situation with shimmer was worse than ever, more people came to the tree, especially children that either escaped from child labour at the plants or from losing their parents. More people were drugged and laid on the streets, begging for a single coin that was definitely going to be invested into the radioactive, purple goo. The air was stiff and dry, the wooden floor almost invisible due to the different papers scattered all around it, or the different utensils they used while coordinating Silco’s next move, like a pair of dividers or a ruler.
Ekko felt like he was ready to rip his hair out. What do you mean he couldn’t find out where Silco was? What do you mean, he couldn’t magically figure it out?
His whole attire was messy, shirt dirty from the spilled coffee and face paint smudged from him rubbing his face in frustration. It was definitely not his best day, and he was not happy with how the meet-up was going. Everyone was already slumped in their seats, absolutely defeated and ready to give up. At that sight, Ekko grumbled and knocked some useless papers off the table.
“Are you guys even listening?! We are having a crisis right now! Look at the stats! We are running out of spaces and rooms, and yet the people still keep coming! Are you even getting what this means?!” He yelled out, the multiple oil lamps illuminating his glare. As Ekko continued his monologue, the sound of the door creaking open echoed through the room. Ekko was still too devoted to his speech that he didn’t turn around to the door behind his back. His stance was broad, hands gripping the sides of the table tightly, so that his back and shoulder muscles tensed and flexed under his tank top. That’s only when he realised that something was wrong, since everyone's eyes weren’t fixed on him but on something behind him.
“What?! Did I grow wings or what!” He called out, before turning around and dropping his jaw.
There were you, bare feet touching one of the maps and a towel over your shoulders, as if you had only, only now left the shower. Your form was looking warm and cozy, a pair of black night shorts on and a white tank top that looked familiar.. with a jacket that looked a bit too familiar.. and an unmistakable.. orange infinity scarf around your neck. Ekko’s eye started to twitch. Didn’t you both agree on keeping the relationship secret?!
Before you could even say anything, Ekko tugged on your hand and out of the room, his face and ears cartoonishly red while the guys suddenly didn’t feel as tired as they were before seeing the amazing Ekko run around like a preschooler.
While you were laughing, he quickly pushed you against the wall, glaring, no, more like pouting down at you as you smiled sheepishly.
“What..?” You giggled quietly, feeling your knees buckling slightly and you slipping down the wall. Ekko quickly caught you up, sliding you up so you were making eye contact, feet and toes freely dangling down as he held you with a suppressed smile.
“What was this about?” He tried his best to do an intimidating glare, but you could see it right through him by the way he would bite his lower lip.
“What was about..?” You asked innocently, feeling like a little child.
“You know perfectly well what I mean, that was anything but undercover…” He chided you, the only thing that was missing was his finger shaking in disapproval.
“I was cold, plus, the only thing that I found were your clothes..” You murmured quietly, avoiding eye contact, and before he could say anything, you interrupted him in his thought.
“You know that they’re a lot more comfortable than mine!”
He let out a long sigh, both from tiredness and you, even though he would take being annoyed by you over Silco on any day.
“You do know that I have a meeting..?”
Nod.
“And you know that they are waiting..?”
Another nod.
“And you know that they will definitely ask questions..?”
This time you didn’t do anything but just stared into his eyes, pleading for understanding.
“You know-“
The door creaked open and Scar looked over to both of you, a knowing smile on his features.
“Um, so, whatever this is.. can it wait until after we discuss Silco and his plan?” He murmured, lazily stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watched Ekko’s face fall once again in shame.
“Yeah- yeah.. of course..” He murmured and quickly let you down to your feet. Not knowing what to do and how to act around another pair of eyes watching you, he chastely pecked your cheek before entering the room again, and if you’re not wrong, you think you heard Scar laughing and Ekko cursing him out under his breath…
Support banner: @/cafekitsune
#frosty’s works#ekko fluff#ekko x you#ekko arcane#ekko x reader#ekko league of legends#ekko#firelight ekko#ekko x y/n#ekko x fem reader#ekko x male reader#Ekko x gender neutral#league of legends#arcane x female reader#arcane x you#arcane x reader#flustered Ekko#Nerd!Ekko
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₊˚⊹。here, just for you | bakugo katsuki
wc: 1.0k summary: you give bakugo flowers, and he can’t figure out why. contains: implied f!reader but i don’t mention anything specific, talks about flowers and a kind of early established relationship, just fluff and bakugo getting flustered while going through the motions of a relationship! a/n: this is aged up to when bakugo is a pro! i envision him maturing a lot and mellowing out a little so hopefully this captures that!
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
Bakugo doesn’t know what to expect, stepping into his office after a long day on patrol—actually, scratch that. Bakugo doesn’t expect anything, really, besides his office to look the exact same way he left it this morning: pristine and orderly.
And it is, for the most part—save for a small bouquet of flowers sitting delicately on his desk.
It isn’t uncommon for him to receive some; companies and politicians often send them to express their good graces. But those usually go through PR first, along with the many other trinkets and letters received from fans.
So, it shouldn’t really be a big deal, except, flowers have never appeared in his office, on his desk, with a note written in your handwriting, until now.
Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he remembers holidays, birthdays, and since being with you—potential anniversaries too. But there’s nothing, complete zilch that comes up when he tries to recall what today could be.
He furrows his brows, looking for your contact on his phone. Most of his hero costume is gone now, all of the chunky pieces stored away to reveal the plain black jumpsuit he wears underneath. Clunky boots replaced by rubber shoes he wears more and more these days.
He reaches for the bouquet while his phone rings, fingers sliding through the leaves softly. It’s a simple arrangement: a few gerberas and tulips standing out in pink and orange against small bunches of baby’s breath and cocculus. There’s a homeyness to it he can only attribute to you.
“Katsuki?” you pick up, warmth and affection coming through.
“Y’got me flowers?” he asks gruffly, thumbing the note you’d written.
There’s nothing on it but ‘For Katsuki’ in your cursive. No indication of what it’s for, or why you’d given it in the first place. He’s confused and maybe a little nervous; did he forget a date or something?
“Oh, yeah!” you exclaim, a string of ‘pings’ sounding your request at a video call.
Lately, calls with you end up this way. For the longest time, Bakugo’s been a text-mostly-and-call-but-no-video-only kind of guy; it’s quick and efficient, gets things done with minimal fuss. But since getting together with you, texting’s begun to feel a little bit insufficient without your voice accompanying it. Regular calls suffice, but you know how harsh his words can sound despite his face saying otherwise.
Your relationship is kind of old but still kind of new—a few months before you celebrate one year, and he still rolls his eyes (at himself) whenever you do this, lips quirked up as he clicks ‘accept’ (as if he can’t believe how you’ve single-handedly changed his phone habits just like that).
You wait for him to adjust his phone, portions of his office in blur before he props it against the All Might paperweight on his desk. You continue, “Do you like it?”
He shoves the bouquet into the frame, smothering the microphone until all you hear is muffled noise.
“Sorry, baby, I think you’re covering the mic.”
He tuts and you laugh as his face comes into view a few seconds later. His eyebrows are bunched together in the way they characteristically are and you see remnants of his black eyeliner smudged across his eyelids. Even at the tail end of his day, tired and just a little bit grumpy, Bakugo still looks pretty illuminated by the light on his phone.
It’s unfair, you think.
“S’nice.” he murmurs, fiddling with the petals, “Thank you.”
You catch his gaze and smile, “You’re welcome.”
There’s an uneasiness to Bakugo’s eyes that you can tell comes from uncertainty, and you give him the silence to sort through it before he lets you know eventually, just like he always does.
“I–”, he looks to the side, away from the camera. The crease between his eyebrows grow deeper before clearing his throat, “–M’not forgetting anythin’ today, am I?”
You tilt your head, puzzled, “I don’t think so, unless I’m forgetting it too.”
“So why’d–”, he looks back to the bouquet, sighing, “–why’dya give me flowers?”
Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he knows your favorite food, and your usual order from that café you both go to down the street. He remembers that one sunday, during a hike, when you told him in passing that it was the best day of your life. You don’t like fuzzy socks because they make you sneeze, and you’re allergic to dust but continue to tend to him even when he’s covered entirely in it.
Bakugo knows all these things and makes it a point to because a relationship–this relationship with you–is new and kind of hard, and this is one way he knows he can be good to you.
“Oh,” you blink, before answering so casually, so honestly, “I just wanted to.”
Ruby eyes stare back at you, a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher swirling in them. His fingers slip through the leaves of the bouquet once more before his gaze softens.
“Ha.” he huffs out, almost chuckling to himself in relief.
“Yeah, ‘ha’,” you tease, laughing, “they’re just for being you, Katsuki.”
The look you send him is fond, but the feeling it gives him is anything but. Every time you laugh, and smile, and speak to him as if he is every bit deserving of the love you give, there is a battle raging in his ribcage. He doesn’t know when it’s ever going to stop feeling that way–if it ever will. The sides of his neck begin to flush red, and you giggle, finding it every bit endearing.
He clears his throat again, trying hard to hide how flustered he feels, “D’you make it?”
You nod, “Been trying flower arranging lately.”
“S’pretty.” he supplies, turning the bouquet around to show you. You grow shy, Bakugo knowing full well how terrible you are at taking compliments.
“You should get going, it’s getting late.” you mumble, snuggling into your blanket, the one he’d left in your apartment months ago.
Bakugo grunts in agreement, “Tomorrow, 7am?”
You hum, “Message me when you get home,” reminding him, even though this is routine by now.
The next day, just like every other Tuesday, Bakugo will pick you up at 7am for a trip to that café you go to down the street. And maybe, on another day, you’ll get him flowers again, just for being your Katsuki.
#bakugo x reader#bnha x reader#katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#mha x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha#katsu#soft#shotorus.writes#writing this as an exercise !!
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Toxic till the end
Minatozaki Sana x Fem!Reader
Word Count: ca. 10k
Synopsis: Is this a game or is this love? Y/N’s whirlwind romance with Sana blurs the lines between passion and control, forcing her to confront the cost of losing herself in the name of love.
Rosé - toxic till the end "His favourite game is chess, who would ever guess? Playing with the pieces in my chest"
Notes: I'm not super happy with this, BUT here you go.
English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.
♡ Enjoy! ♡
Rain streaked down in cold rivulets, blurring the city skyline into a wash of shimmering lights. Y/N stood motionless on the empty sidewalk, her hands trembling as she clutched a delicate necklace. The silver chain, hung heavy with memories, each link a reminder of the bond she was desperately trying to break.
Her mind played the greatest hits of their time together: Sana’s radiant smile the day they met, the sound of her laughter echoing in Y/N’s ears like a melody she could never unlearn, and the countless whispered promises that once felt unshakable. But those tender moments were only half the story.
Closing her eyes, Y/N could almost hear the sharp edge of Sana’s voice during their fights, the manipulative way she twisted words to pull Y/N back when she tried to leave. Her fingers tightened around the necklace as the memory of their final argument surfaced. The moment Y/N knew she had to choose herself or lose everything that made her who she was.
The rain grew heavier, soaking through her coat and chilling her to the bone, but she didn’t move. Instead, she stared at the necklace dangling between her fingers. A relic of a relationship that had started with warmth and laughter but ended in chaos and heartbreak.
Y/N’s lips parted, her breath fogging in the cold night air as she whispered to herself: “How did we get here?”
Her mind wandered back to the beginning, to a night when fate or perhaps sheer misfortune, brought them together. It had been an ordinary evening, one she hadn’t thought much about at the time, but now it loomed in her memory like the first domino in a line that would inevitably topple.
The sun was nearly gone, leaving streaks of burnt orange and purple smeared across the horizon as Y/N’s car sputtered to a pitiful halt. The dashboard lights blinked angrily, and with a groan, she pulled over to the shoulder of the road.
“Great,” Y/N muttered, stepping out into the brisk evening air. The road stretched endlessly in both directions, barren except for the glow of distant streetlights and the occasional hum of passing cars. She popped the hood, peering uselessly at the engine as a wave of frustration bubbled up.
Just as she considered calling for help, her attention was drawn to a figure further down the road. A woman stood next to a vintage bike, pacing and waving her arms in what looked like an animated argument with herself. Her leather jacket gleamed faintly in the fading light, and her glossy hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling in soft waves around her face.
Before Y/N could decide what to do, the woman turned, spotted her, and waved with both hands like she was trying to flag down a rescue helicopter.
“Hey!” the stranger called out, her voice carrying easily over the stillness. “You don’t happen to have a toolkit, do you? Because my bike’s officially given up on life.”
Y/N hesitated for only a moment before walking toward her, chuckling under her breath. “Depends,” she called back. “You know anything about cars? Mine just gave up too.”
The woman’s laughter rang out like a melody. “So it’s not just me! Misery loves company, I guess.”
Up close, she was even more striking. Bright, almond-shaped eyes twinkled with mischief, and her wide, radiant smile could have melted ice. She stuck out a hand, unapologetically smudged with grease. “Sana,” she said with a grin that was equal parts charming and disarming.
“Y/N,” she replied, shaking her hand.
“Y/N,” Sana repeated, like she was testing the weight of the name on her tongue. “Nice to meet you. Terrible circumstances, though. You wouldn’t happen to have a magic wand in that car of yours, would you?”
“Unfortunately, no wand,” Y/N said, smirking. “But I do have some basic tools and a knack for pretending I know what I’m doing.”
“Good enough,” Sana said with a wink. “Fake it ‘til you make it, right?”
For the next hour, they worked side by side, troubleshooting their respective problems. Sana’s bike chain was hopelessly jammed, and Y/N’s engine refused to even pretend it wanted to cooperate. Despite the mounting evidence that neither vehicle would be salvaged anytime soon, they found themselves laughing through the frustration.
“So,” Sana asked, leaning against her bike with a crooked grin, “what brings you out here in the middle of nowhere?”
Y/N shrugged, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Just bad luck, I guess. My car decided to call it quits at the worst possible time.”
“Classic,” Sana said. “My bike’s just as dramatic. I swear, it waits for the exact moment when I’m miles from anywhere to throw a tantrum.”
Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Well, at least we’re stranded together. Misery’s better with company.”
Sana’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, her smile softening. “You know, you’re pretty good at this whole silver-lining thing. It’s kind of nice.”
“Thanks,” Y/N said, feeling a faint blush rise to her cheeks. There was something about Sana. Her energy, her presence, was magnetic.
As they packed up their tools and prepared to call for a tow, Sana tilted her head, studying Y/N with a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”
“What makes you say that?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious.
“Helping a complete stranger like me? That’s dangerous. Someone could take advantage of that.” Sana smirked, but there was something sharper, almost predatory, lurking beneath her playful tone.
Y/N chuckled nervously, brushing off the strange twist her words had taken. “Maybe, but I’d like to think the world needs a little more kindness.”
Sana’s smile widened, her teeth catching the dim light. “You keep that up, Y/N. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It should have been a red flag, but instead, it felt oddly exciting. There was something about Sana’s intensity, her unpredictability, that drew Y/N in, like a moth to a flame.
As Y/N watched the tow truck pull away with her car, she stared down at her phone, where Sana’s name glowed on the screen. A part of her knew this chance meeting would change everything.
And it did.
It started with Sana’s camera. Their first official date turned into an impromptu photo shoot after Sana pulled a small vintage camera from her bag, insisting that Y/N pose in front of a mural they’d stumbled upon. Y/N had felt awkward at first, laughing nervously as Sana barked playful instructions and crouched to find the perfect angle. But when Sana showed her the first photo, a candid shot of Y/N mid-laugh, framed perfectly against the mural’s vibrant colors, something inside her shifted.
“You have a gift,” Y/N had said, genuinely impressed.
Sana grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only when I have the right muse.”
Soon, weekends turned into photography adventures. Sana led Y/N through the city like a woman on a mission, chasing golden-hour light and wandering into alleys where broken windows and graffiti became their backdrop. Sana had an uncanny ability to find beauty in the unexpected, framing the world through her lens in ways that made even the mundane feel extraordinary.
“Just hold that pose,” Sana said one evening, crouching low with her camera to frame the shot. Y/N stood at the edge of a rooftop, the city skyline glowing behind her, the lights shimmering like a sea of stars. “Perfect. Now tilt your chin up—yeah, like that.”
Y/N laughed, feeling a mix of awkwardness and exhilaration. “Do I get a say in this, or am I just your mannequin?”
Sana lowered the camera, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “You’re not just a mannequin. You’re my masterpiece.”
The words hit Y/N like a jolt, warmth rushing to her cheeks. No one had ever looked at her the way Sana did, as if she were the only person in the world. Being Sana’s muse was intoxicating, like stepping into a spotlight that never dimmed. It wasn’t just the photos. It was the way Sana made her feel seen, adored, and wanted in ways she hadn’t known she craved.
The city became their playground. Laughter echoed under neon lights as Sana adjusted Y/N’s pose in the middle of a bustling street. They stole kisses in quiet parks, Sana’s camera dangling around her neck, the click of the shutter capturing moments Y/N thought would last forever.
But the camera wasn’t just an instrument of art, it was also a tool of control.
One afternoon, as they sprawled on a blanket in the park, Y/N scrolled through her phone while Sana tinkered with her camera settings. A notification popped up on Y/N’s screen, a message from a coworker, and Sana leaned over without warning.
“Who’s that?” she asked, her tone casual but her expression anything but.
“A friend,” Y/N said lightly, locking her phone. “We’re working on a project together.”
Sana’s eyes flickered with something Y/N couldn’t place. “Funny, I thought we were spending today together. Didn’t realize you had someone else waiting for your attention.”
The words landed like a sharp jab. Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Sana’s fingers brushed against her cheek, her voice softening. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I just… I don’t like sharing you.”
Y/N’s irritation melted under the weight of Sana’s gaze, and she found herself apologizing. “It’s nothing. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
Still, a faint unease settled in Y/N’s chest, one she quickly brushed aside.
As the weeks went on, Sana’s possessiveness surfaced in subtler ways. Comments about Y/N’s schedule, questioning glances when Y/N mentioned spending time with friends. Over time, Y/N began canceling plans without even thinking about it, telling herself it was easier to avoid the tension.
“Work can wait,” Sana would say, pulling Y/N into her arms after another canceled meeting or skipped deadline. “You’re too important to me.”
And the truth was, Y/N loved it. She loved the way Sana’s attention enveloped her, the way it made her feel like she was all that mattered.
But there were moments Y/N couldn’t ignore, moments that lingered long after they ended. Like the evening at the diner.
The waiter had cracked a joke as he poured their coffee, something lighthearted and forgettable, but Y/N had laughed, really laughed, the kind that made her throw her head back. She didn’t notice the shift in Sana’s demeanor until the clink of her fork against the plate made her look up.
Sana’s expression was pleasant, her smile wide, but there was a tension in the set of her jaw that made Y/N’s stomach twist.
On the walk home, Sana was unusually quiet, her hand gripping Y/N’s just a little too tightly. “Do you think he was flirting with you?” she asked finally, her tone light but her words pointed.
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t think so. I mean, it was just a joke.”
Sana stopped walking, turning to face her. “You didn’t have to laugh like that, though. It’s like you wanted him to think he had a chance.”
Y/N opened her mouth to protest but stopped, her words catching in her throat. The idea that Sana was jealous, it should have bothered her, but instead, it gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. She liked knowing that Sana cared enough to feel threatened, even if it meant enduring moments like this.
“You’re right,” Y/N said finally, squeezing Sana’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
Sana’s smile returned, wide and genuine, her voice softening. “I just don’t want to lose you.”
Y/N felt her chest tighten with something she couldn’t quite name. “You won’t,” she promised, even as a quiet voice in the back of her mind wondered if this was what love was supposed to feel like.
The whirlwind of their romance made everything else fade into the background. Y/N found herself skipping happy hours, turning down invitations, and canceling plans to spend more time with Sana. Her friends noticed the change before she did, but Y/N brushed it off, what was wrong with being in love?
Still, the cracks showed in quiet, undeniable ways. The first real fracture came one evening at a dinner she hadn’t expected Sana to attend.
Y/N leaned back in her chair, laughter bubbling up as Lia recounted a story about a disastrous first date. The restaurant buzzed with energy, warm lights reflecting off glasses of wine and scattered silverware. It had been too long since she’d had a night like this, just her and her friends, the way it used to be.
She’d almost forgotten how much she missed this, Lia’s quick wit, Nayeon’s playful teasing, and Jeongyeon’s dry, deadpan humor that always landed perfectly. The familiar rhythm of their banter wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, making her feel grounded in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.
The comfort shattered when she caught sight of a familiar figure standing at the entrance. Sana, dressed impeccably in a tailored coat and sleek boots, scanned the room with a look of calm confidence that set her apart from the bustling crowd.
Y/N blinked, startled. She hadn’t invited Sana, this was supposed to be a casual dinner with her friends, but there she was, striding toward their table as though she belonged there.
“Hey,” Sana said, leaning down to kiss Y/N on the cheek, her perfume subtly intoxicating. “Thought I’d surprise you.”
The table fell silent. Her friends exchanged glances, their conversation grinding to a halt as they absorbed the sudden intrusion.
“Uh, hi,” Y/N stammered, her confusion evident in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“I figured I’d stop by,” Sana said breezily, sliding into the empty chair beside Y/N. “I wanted to meet the people you’re always talking about.”
Y/N forced a smile, her mind racing. Sana had never expressed much interest in meeting her friends before, and she certainly hadn’t mentioned coming tonight.
As the group tried to recover, Nayeon took the lead, extending a polite hand across the table. “Hi, I’m Nayeon. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Sana said, shaking her hand briefly before retreating into a more closed posture. Her smile was polite but tight, her gaze flicking around the table as if assessing each person.
The conversation resumed in fits and starts, but the easy flow from earlier was gone. Sana offered clipped answers when asked about herself, her tone cool and detached. When Jeongyeon tried to include her in the group’s inside jokes, she only smiled faintly and took a sip of her wine.
The warmth and charm Y/N had fallen for were nowhere to be found.
“She’s just shy,” Y/N told herself, laughing nervously as the tension mounted. She caught Lia’s raised eyebrow from across the table and shot her a tight smile, silently pleading with her to drop it.
But the evening dragged on, the awkwardness thickening like fog. By the end of the night, Y/N’s cheeks ached from forcing a smile, and her friends’ goodbyes were unusually subdued.
Lia lingered as the others filed out, her brow furrowed with concern. “Y/N,” she said gently, pulling her aside. “Are you okay? Sana seemed… off.”
“She’s fine,” Y/N said quickly, her voice a little too sharp. “She’s just not good with new people.”
“I don’t know,” Lia said, her tone cautious but insistent. “She seemed dismissive. And honestly? A little controlling.”
Y/N felt a flare of defensiveness rise in her chest. “You don’t know her like I do,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “She’s amazing once you get to know her. You’re just being judgmental.”
Lia’s expression fell, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Y/N.”
“I don’t need you to,” Y/N said, her voice quieter but no less firm.
Lia nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Okay,” she said finally. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
Y/N watched her walk away, guilt twisting in her gut, but it was quickly swallowed by frustration. Her friends didn’t understand. They didn’t see the side of Sana that Y/N knew, the one who made her laugh until her stomach hurt, who held her in the quiet moments and made her feel like the center of the universe.
As Y/N walked to her car, she realized Sana hadn’t even said goodbye to the group before leaving. It was as if Sana had slipped out when no one was paying attention, leaving Y/N to smooth over the evening’s tension alone. The uneasiness lingered, but she told herself it wasn’t important. Sana loved her, that was all that mattered.
Later that night, Y/N stormed into Sana's apartment, her heart pounding with unresolved tension. She didn’t bother knocking, her key turned easily in the lock, a symbol of the trust they’d built and the boundaries Y/N had allowed to blur.
The place was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a single floor lamp. The faint smell of lavender hung in the air, almost soothing if not for the storm raging in Y/N’s chest. She kicked off her shoes without care, the sound sharp against the quiet. In the corner, a chessboard sat on the coffee table, the pieces scattered as if abandoned mid-game.
Y/N gestured toward the board, her voice tight with frustration. “Is this what tonight was to you? Another game?”
Sana looked up from the couch, where she was curled with a book in her lap. Her expression was calm but guarded, her eyes narrowing slightly at Y/N’s tone. “What are you talking about?”
“You crashed my dinner, Sana.” Y/N’s voice cracked, her emotions bubbling to the surface. “And then you didn’t even try to get to know my friends, you left without saying goodbye. You were so cold.”
Sana sighed softly, closing the book and setting it on the armrest. “I wasn’t trying to ruin anything,” she said, her voice low and soothing, as though trying to defuse a bomb. She rose to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate. “I just… I wanted to be part of your world. I wanted to see the people you care about.”
Y/N hesitated, her anger faltering. “You could’ve told me,” she said, her voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to just show up.”
“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Sana said, stepping closer. Her eyes softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s arm. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just.. sometimes I feel like I don’t fit in your life. Like maybe you don’t really want me there, that's why I left.”
The words landed like a punch to Y/N’s gut. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself caught in the vulnerability of Sana’s expression, the slight tremble of her lips, the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes.
“That’s not true,” Y/N said quickly, the anger evaporating under the weight of Sana’s emotions. “You know I want you in my life.”
Sana’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then why does it feel that way?” she asked, her voice soft but heavy with meaning.
Y/N’s shoulders slumped. She wanted to argue, to stand her ground, but the words didn’t come. Instead, guilt settled into the cracks of her resolve. Was I being too harsh? Did I really make her feel like she didn’t belong?
“I’m sorry,” Y/N said quietly, the fight leaving her entirely. “I should’ve made you feel more comfortable.”
Sana’s smile returned, soft and reassuring, as she stepped closer. She leaned in, resting her forehead against Y/N’s, her voice a whisper. “Thank you. I just don’t want to lose you.”
Y/N closed her eyes, letting the tension seep out of her as Sana’s arms wrapped around her. The familiar warmth of her embrace made Y/N’s chest tighten in a way she couldn’t explain.
The argument about the dinner was smoothed over like so many others before it, with apologies and reassurances that felt genuine in the moment. Yet, something lingered. A quiet imbalance that Y/N couldn’t quite name but chose to ignore.
Sana had a way of making her forget, whether with her laugh, her touch, or the small, thoughtful gestures that reminded Y/N why she fell in love in the first place. But Sana also had a way of winning.
It became clearer one rainy afternoon when Sana pulled the chessboard into their world.
“Have you ever played chess?” Sana asked, setting the board between them on the coffee table. Rain pattered softly against the windows, a gentle rhythm that seemed to amplify the quiet intimacy of the room. The dim light from outside cast long shadows, blending the edges of the space into soft darkness.
“Not really,” Y/N admitted, sitting cross-legged on the floor and pulling a blanket over her lap. “I’ve always been more of a checkers person.”
Sana smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes as she began lining up the pieces with precise, deliberate movements. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the seriousness with which she approached even something as simple as setting up a game.
“That’s because checkers is easy,” Sana said, her voice tinged with playful condescension. “Chess, on the other hand… it’s a game of strategy, patience, and power.”
The way she said power sent a strange shiver down Y/N’s spine, though she quickly brushed it off, leaning forward to watch Sana finish setting up the board.
“This,” Sana said, holding up the queen between her fingers, “is the most important piece. She has the most power, the most freedom. She can move in any direction and dominate the board.”
Y/N tilted her head. “And the king?”
Sana rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a smirk. “The king is useless. He can only move one square at a time. Honestly, the whole game is about protecting him while the queen does all the work.”
Y/N laughed, her shoulders relaxing as she tucked the blanket tighter around her legs. “Sounds about right.”
Sana leaned forward, placing the queen carefully in the center of the board, her movements slow and deliberate. “But the real fun is here.” She picked up a pawn, holding it delicately between her fingers as if it were more significant than it appeared.
“Pawns?” Y/N asked, her brow furrowing.
Sana nodded, her smile sharpening. “Pawns are weak on their own, but they can be useful if you know how to play them. They’re the ones who set things in motion.” She twirled the piece between her fingers before placing it on the board with a soft click.
Then she looked directly at Y/N, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Think of it like a relationship. Someone has to be the queen, and someone has to be the pawn.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing despite the strange tension curling in her chest. “Let me guess, you’re the queen?”
“Obviously,” Sana said, her grin widening as she settled back into her seat.
Y/N shook her head, laughing lightly. But something about the way Sana said it, the confidence, the finality, lingered like a shadow in the corners of her mind.
They played for hours, Sana walking Y/N through each move with a mixture of patience and authority. “Good,” Sana said as Y/N moved her knight, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. “You’re learning.”
When Y/N managed to capture her first pawn, she felt a rush of triumph that brought an uncontrollable grin to her face. “Look at that! I got you!”
But the feeling faded quickly when Sana countered with an unexpected strike, sweeping her queen across the board to take two of Y/N’s pieces in a single, calculated move.
Y/N blinked, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “How did you do that?”
Sana leaned back, her satisfied smile returning as she crossed her arms. “It’s not just about winning,” she said, her tone measured but tinged with something darker. “It’s about making sure your opponent doesn’t even see the win coming.”
Y/N laughed, but the comment lingered in her mind longer than she expected.
Over time, the metaphor seeped into their lives in ways Y/N couldn’t ignore.
It started subtly. Sana’s phone buzzed one evening as they lounged on the couch, her head resting on Y/N’s shoulder. The vibration broke the soft quiet of the room, drawing Y/N’s attention. Sana shifted slightly, glancing at the screen with an unreadable expression before flipping the phone over and setting it face-down on the coffee table.
Y/N felt a pang of something, curiosity, jealousy, or maybe both. She told herself it was nothing, but the casual way Sana dismissed it gnawed at her.
“What was that?” Y/N asked lightly, keeping her tone breezy.
Sana shrugged, her voice calm. “Just a friend. It’s not important.”
The answer didn’t sit well, but Y/N forced a smile and let it drop. Still, the moment stayed with her.
In the days that followed, Y/N began noticing other things. The way Sana always seemed to know when she received a message, even when her phone was across the room. The way certain names that used to pop up in her contacts seemed to vanish without explanation. It was small, almost imperceptible, so easy to brush aside, but it left Y/N unsettled in a way she couldn’t shake.
One evening, while Sana was in the shower, Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her messages. She was looking for an old thread from a college friend she hadn’t spoken to in a while, but it was gone. Confused, she searched for the contact, only to find it missing entirely.
Her heart raced as she checked her blocked contacts. Her stomach dropped when she saw the name. It wasn’t just them, there were others, too. Friends she’d lost touch with, people she’d only recently realized had stopped reaching out.
Her hands trembled as she stared at the screen. Her mind raced, replaying moments that suddenly felt suspicious in retrospect. The way Sana had always known when she’d been messaging someone. The way she’d casually dismissed certain friends as “distractions.”
“Sana,” Y/N called, her voice sharp as she tried to steady herself.
Moments later, Sana appeared in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her, her expression calm but wary. “What’s wrong?”
Y/N held up her phone, her grip tightening around it. “Did you block my contacts?”
Sana didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look surprised. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I didn’t want them bothering you,” she said evenly. “You told me you don’t even talk to them anymore.”
“That’s not the point!” Y/N’s voice rose, her frustration spilling out. “You don’t get to decide who I talk to.”
Sana’s face softened, and she stepped forward, her voice low and soothing. “I wasn’t trying to control you,” she said, reaching out to place a hand on Y/N’s arm. “I just… I’ve seen the way they look at you, Y/N. I don’t want anyone trying to take you away from me.”
Y/N’s breath caught. The words were wrong, but the vulnerability in Sana’s tone made them feel almost right.
“You can’t just do that without telling me,” Y/N said, though her voice lacked the conviction it had a moment ago.
“I’m sorry,” Sana said, her hand sliding down to take Y/N’s. “I’ll unblock them if it bothers you. I just… I get scared sometimes. Scared of you leaving me.”
The fear in Sana’s voice disarmed Y/N, her anger melting into something softer, something she hated to admit was there.
“Okay,” Y/N said quietly, her shoulders slumping. “Just… don’t do it again.”
“I won’t,” Sana said, pulling Y/N into an embrace. Her touch was warm, her grip firm but comforting. “Thank you. I just love you so much.”
Sana pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Y/N’s face as if looking for reassurance. Then, before Y/N could say anything more, Sana leaned in, pressing her lips softly against hers. The kiss was tender, almost desperate, as if Sana were trying to seal her promise with the gesture.
Y/N let herself sink into the moment, the warmth of Sana’s touch and the softness of her lips momentarily eclipsing the unease still lingering in her chest.
Later that night, as Y/N lay in bed, the weight of the conversation pressed against her chest. She stared at the ceiling, replaying the way Sana had looked at her, the way she had seemed so genuine, so afraid.
She just loves me that much, Y/N told herself. Isn’t that what we all want?
But even as she drifted to sleep, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered, This doesn’t feel right.
But the control wasn’t one-sided.
Sana’s attention had become something Y/N craved, like a drug she couldn’t go without. It wasn’t just the grand gestures or whispered words of affection, it was the way Sana looked at her, as if Y/N were the only person in the world who mattered. But in the rare moments when that gaze faltered, when Sana’s attention drifted to something or someone else, Y/N felt a hollowness that she didn’t want to acknowledge.
One evening, the two of them lounged in the living room, a playlist of soft acoustic songs filling the air. Sana sat on the armchair across from Y/N, her legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone with a faint smile playing on her lips.
Y/N, sprawled across the couch, tried to focus on the book in her hands, but her eyes kept drifting back to Sana. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, the way her lips twitched with quiet amusement, and the glimmer of a name in the reflection of her glasses, it all stirred something uneasy in Y/N.
“Who are you talking to?” Y/N asked, her voice light and teasing. She tilted her head, feigning playful curiosity.
Sana glanced up, her smile faint but distant. “Just a friend.”
Y/N sat up, abandoning her book. She moved to the arm of the chair and leaned closer, resting her chin on Sana’s shoulder. The scent of Sana’s perfume, warm and familiar, wrapped around her like a tether.
“Maybe I should start calling my old friends, too,” Y/N said lightly, her tone carefully casual.
Sana’s fingers paused over the screen. The smile faded from her lips, replaced by something harder to read. “You don’t need them,” she said softly, but there was a firmness beneath her words that made Y/N’s chest tighten. “You have me.”
Y/N pulled back slightly, blinking. Sana looked up at her, her expression soft but resolute, as if the matter was already settled.
The comment stayed with Y/N long after the moment passed, lingering like the faint trace of perfume on her clothes. She told herself Sana was right, what did she need anyone else for? Still, the thought gnawed at her, leaving a small hollow space she couldn’t quite fill.
Later that week, Y/N found herself scrolling through her contacts, aimlessly flicking past names she hadn’t thought about in months. Her thumb hovered over one in particular, an old flame. They hadn’t spoken in years, but seeing the name felt like a thread tugging at some forgotten part of herself.
She hesitated. Memories of late-night conversations and stolen moments came rushing back, mingling with the weight of Sana’s words.
You don’t need them. You have me.
The thought settled over her like a blanket, heavy but reassuring. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she tapped the screen, blocking the number with a single decisive motion.
It’s only fair, she thought, her chest tightening. If Sana does it for me, why shouldn’t I do the same for her?
The logic felt sound, even comforting, but as she stared at the screen, a faint unease crept in. Y/N pushed it aside, telling herself that love was about compromise, about loyalty. Wasn’t it?
The days blurred into a cycle of quiet tension and fleeting moments of bliss. Y/N had learned to silence the voice in her head that questioned Sana’s behavior, telling herself that every couple had their struggles. And besides, when Sana was good, she was perfect, her laughter, her warmth, the way she made Y/N feel like the center of the universe.
But perfection came at a cost, one that Y/N wasn’t sure she could keep paying.
The breaking point came on a stormy evening when the truth they had been skirting around finally exploded.
Rain pounded against the windows as Y/N paced the living room, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. The dim light of the room flickered with each flash of lightning, shadows jumping across the walls like specters. The argument had started small, something about missed calls and unanswered texts, but had spiraled into something much bigger, something neither of them could control.
“You don’t trust me,” Y/N said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. Her words cut through the rhythmic drumming of the rain, sharp and raw. “You never have.”
Sana stood near the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked unmovable, her silhouette stark against the storm outside. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was ice. “That’s not fair, and you know it,” she said coldly. “I’ve given you everything, Y/N. Everything. And this is how you treat me?”
Y/N let out a bitter laugh, hollow and brittle. It startled even her, the sound foreign in her own ears. “You’ve given me everything? Or taken everything?”
The words hung in the air like smoke, suffocating them both. For a moment, the only sound was the relentless rain, a distant roll of thunder punctuating the silence.
Sana’s shoulders slumped, her arms falling to her sides. Y/N thought she might leave the room, leave the conversation unfinished like so many others. But instead, Sana turned. Her expression softened, the coldness melting into something heartbreakingly vulnerable. Tears glistened in her eyes, catching the light of the storm outside.
“I just…” Sana’s voice cracked as she stepped closer. “I’m scared, okay? Scared of losing you.” Her hands fidgeted at her sides, fingers twisting nervously. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t know how to live without you.”
Y/N’s chest tightened, her anger faltering under the weight of Sana’s words. “Sana—”
“Please,” Sana interrupted, her voice breaking as she reached out to grab Y/N’s hands. Her touch was warm despite the chill of the room. “Don’t go. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t leave me.”
The rawness in Sana’s voice hit Y/N like a tidal wave, pulling at something deep and unspoken inside her. She wanted to hold on to her anger, to use it as a shield against the emotions threatening to drown her. But the sight of Sana, her tear-filled eyes, the trembling in her voice, made it impossible.
She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the conflicting emotions swirling in her chest. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to walk out the door and never look back. But another part, a darker, quieter part, thrived on the chaos.
The fights, the tears, the passionate makeups that followed, they made Y/N feel alive in a way she hadn’t before. There was something intoxicating about the intensity of it all, as if the turbulence was proof of how deeply they loved each other.
Toxic love is still love, she told herself, the thought echoing like a mantra in the storm.
When Y/N opened her eyes, Sana was staring at her, desperation etched into every line of her face. Y/N took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Relief washed over Sana’s face, her grip on Y/N’s hands tightening as if to anchor herself. “Thank you,” she said softly, pulling Y/N into an embrace. Her arms wrapped around Y/N like a lifeline, the storm outside forgotten in the stillness of the moment.
But Y/N wasn’t blameless.
The next morning, the tension lingered like a bruise, dull and aching but impossible to ignore. The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of Sana’s movements as she made coffee. She hovered near the counter, her back to Y/N, the usual ease of her gestures replaced with something more hesitant.
Y/N sat at the table, her phone resting on the surface, though her eyes weren’t really focused on the screen. She could feel the weight of Sana’s presence, her tentative glances, the way her shoulders seemed to sag just slightly under the strain of the unresolved fight.
When Sana finally crossed the room and reached out to touch Y/N’s shoulder, Y/N pulled away instinctively, pretending to focus on a non-existent notification. The withdrawal was small, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make Sana pause.
“Are we okay?” Sana asked softly, her voice laced with hesitation.
Y/N didn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch long enough to sting. The delay was deliberate, calculated. She wanted Sana to feel the same uncertainty she had felt the night before.
“I don’t know,” Y/N said finally, her tone distant and measured.
Sana’s shoulders tensed, her hand falling back to her side. Her expression flickered, uncertainty, worry, and something else Y/N couldn’t quite name. For a brief moment, Y/N felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, as if she’d regained some of the power she so often felt slipping through her fingers.
But the feeling was fleeting, dissolving into a hollow ache as Sana stepped away without another word.
By evening, Sana had transformed the tension into something else entirely.
When Y/N walked into the apartment after work, she was greeted by the warm glow of candlelight flickering on every surface. The scent of her favorite dish wafted through the air, mingling with the soft hum of music playing in the background.
Sana stood in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand, her smile soft but deliberate. She looked radiant, every detail meticulously arranged, from the careful curl of her hair to the delicate necklace Y/N had once said she loved.
“I just want us to be happy,” Sana said, handing Y/N a glass of wine as she gestured toward the table. It was set with care, the plates gleaming under the candlelight.
Y/N hesitated, the unease from the morning still gnawing at the edges of her mind. She wanted to argue, to confront Sana about the growing cracks in their relationship, but the effort felt monumental.
Sana’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Wait, before we eat, there’s something I want to give you.”
Y/N blinked, confused as Sana set her glass down and walked over to a small drawer. From it, she pulled out a small box, the kind that usually held jewelry. Her heart skipped as Sana returned, opening it to reveal a delicate necklace with a small pendant that sparkled in the candlelight.
“I saw this and thought of you,” Sana said, her voice soft and warm. She stepped closer, taking the necklace out of the box. “Let me.”
Y/N hesitated, the unease still there, but Sana’s expectant smile made it hard to refuse. She turned slightly, letting Sana clasp the necklace around her neck.
“There,” Sana said, stepping back to admire her work. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
Y/N touched the pendant lightly, her chest tightening. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow in her mouth.
“It’s for us,” Sana said, her tone carrying an undercurrent of something Y/N couldn’t quite place.
And just like that, Y/N allowed herself to be pulled back in, the warmth of the moment smoothing over the jagged edges of her doubt.
Later, as Y/N lay in bed, the wine’s warmth still lingering in her veins, her thoughts drifted to their first meeting.
She remembered the way Sana had waved her down, her confidence magnetic even from a distance. At the time, it had felt serendipitous, like fate stepping in to bring them together. But now, with the clarity of hindsight, the memory was tinged with something darker.
The bike had seemed pristine, too pristine for a breakdown. The way Sana had leaned against it, casually frustrated, as if she’d been waiting for something or someone.
The pieces began to fall into place with chilling clarity. The perfect timing. The deliberate way Sana had drawn her in, weaving a story of chance and misfortune. Y/N’s mind filled in the gaps, connecting the dots she hadn’t dared to before.
She planned it.
The realization hit Y/N like a punch to the gut.
She stared at the ceiling, her breath catching in her throat. Anger surged through her at first, a sharp, white-hot wave of betrayal. But as it ebbed, it left something else in its wake.
A strange sense of inevitability settled over her, heavy but almost comforting. It was just another piece in the game Sana had been playing all along. A game she had been playing since the beginning.
And maybe, just maybe, it was a game Y/N didn’t want to stop playing.
She closed her eyes, the faint sound of Sana’s breathing beside her filling the quiet.
Toxic love is still love, she thought again, the mantra weaving itself into her dreams.
The dreams came in flashes. Y/N saw Sana’s smile from their first meeting, bright and full of promise. Then, the smile faded, replaced by the image of the chessboard, pieces scattered and mismatched. Somewhere in the haze, Y/N heard the mechanic’s voice, distant but clear “Looks like someone tampered with it.”
When she woke up, the early morning light spilling through the blinds. Her chest felt heavy, her mind tangled in memories and doubt. Y/N rubbed her temples, but the unease wouldn’t go away. She needed clarity, but instead, she found herself spiraling deeper into questions she didn’t want to answer.
But the answers came faster than she expected.
The fights came more frequently now, their once-perfect moments overshadowed by tension and unspoken resentment. It was during one of those fights, louder and crueler than any before, that Y/N finally walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving Sana’s pleading voice echoing in her ears.
The dark clouds hung low, the occasional rumble of distant thunder reminding her that the storm hadn’t entirely passed. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white, as her breath came in short bursts.
The argument replayed in her mind, vivid and unrelenting.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she had said, her voice trembling but carrying a firmness that surprised even herself.
Sana’s eyes had widened, tears glistening like glass. “You don’t mean that,” she’d replied, her voice breaking on the words. “You love me.”
Y/N had hesitated, the pull in her chest begging her to reconsider, but the weight of the tension between them pressed her forward. Without another word, she had turned and walked out, the sound of the door slamming behind her cutting through the quiet like a gunshot.
Now, sitting in the driver’s seat, Y/N tried to steady her breathing. The streets were nearly deserted, the dark asphalt glistening from the rain, reflecting faint halos of streetlights. She pulled out of the parking lot, her fingers gripping the wheel as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality.
The car’s engine hummed steadily at first, but as she drove down the dark, empty road, it sputtered and jerked. A guttural sound followed, like the car itself was protesting her escape. Then, with a final wheeze, the engine died completely.
“No, no, no,” Y/N muttered under her breath, guiding the car to the side of the road. She turned the key in the ignition, hoping against hope, but the car refused to respond.
She slammed her hands against the wheel, the familiar sense of frustration and helplessness bubbling up. The adrenaline from the fight hadn’t fully faded, and now it mixed with the sharp sting of being stranded.
Stepping out into the damp night air, Y/N shivered as her shoes sank slightly into the wet gravel. The air smelled of rain and earth, heavy and oppressive. She popped the hood, staring at the mess of wires and metal with a sinking feeling.
“This might as well be hieroglyphics,” she muttered, rubbing her arms against the chill.
Resigned, she pulled out her phone and called for a tow truck. The wait felt eternal, the silence inside the car pressing down on her. The only sounds were the occasional car passing in the distance and the soft tick of her hazard lights. Y/N leaned her head back against the seat, the exhaustion from the day threatening to pull her under.
The next day, Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, her phone pressed to her ear as the mechanic’s voice crackled through the line.
“Well, the good news is, it’s an easy fix,” he said, his tone light. “But it’s strange.. looks like someone deliberately tampered with your fuel line. Did you leave it parked somewhere sketchy?”
Y/N froze, her stomach flipping. “No,” she said slowly, her voice tight. “I… I don’t think so.”
“Hmm,” the mechanic said thoughtfully. “Well, whoever did it didn’t want to completely ruin your car. Just enough to strand you, I’d guess.”
The call ended, but the words echoed in her mind, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.
Whoever did it…
Her hands trembled as she set her phone down, her mind racing through the possibilities. Flashes of memory rose unbidden, moments that had seemed inconsequential at the time but now took on a sinister edge.
Sana’s insistence on “checking” the car before Y/N went on long drives. The way she had offered to take it for errands, always with a breezy smile and a casual “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
It all lined up now in a way that made Y/N’s stomach twist painfully.
She wouldn’t, Y/N told herself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. But deep down, in the quietest parts of her mind, she knew the truth.
Y/N confronted Sana that evening.
The apartment felt colder than usual, the dim light from the single floor lamp casting sharp shadows across the walls. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, but it did nothing to soothe the tension coiling in Y/N’s chest. The chessboard sat in its usual place, the queen perfectly upright while the pawns lay scattered, toppled like casualties of a battle they hadn’t agreed to fight.
Sana sat on the couch, a book open in her lap, her posture relaxed in a way that felt almost mocking. She looked up when Y/N entered, her expression calm but curious.
“Did you do it?” Y/N’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Sana tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. “Do what?”
Y/N stepped closer, her hands trembling at her sides. The anger simmering beneath her skin made her movements stiff, deliberate. “My car,” she said, her voice louder now, more forceful. “The fuel line. Did you tamper with it?”
For a moment, Sana’s face was blank, unreadable. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, she sighed, closing her book with deliberate care and setting it on the armrest. “You weren’t supposed to find out,” she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of regret.
Y/N’s heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. The confirmation felt like a physical blow, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Why?” she whispered, the single word laced with disbelief.
Sana stood, her movements measured, as if trying not to startle Y/N. She stepped closer, her voice cracking as she spoke. “Because I needed you to stay. You were leaving, Y/N. You were going to walk away from us, from everything we’ve built. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“That’s not love, Sana!” Y/N’s voice rose, shaking with anger and disbelief. Her hands balled into fists, her whole body trembling with the effort to keep herself together. “That’s manipulation. That’s control.”
“Everything I did was because I love you,” Sana said, tears spilling over as her voice broke. “You’re my everything. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Y/N shook her head, taking a step back as if putting physical distance between them could lessen the weight of Sana’s words. Her hands clutched the edge of the couch for support, her knuckles turning white.
“You can’t sabotage my life and call it love,” Y/N said, her voice dropping, quieter but no less firm. The exhaustion in her tone made Sana flinch.
“I’m sorry,” Sana whispered, her own tears falling freely now. She reached out, her hands trembling. “I just… I couldn’t lose you. Please don’t leave.”
For a moment, Y/N stood frozen, staring at the woman she had once thought she couldn’t live without. The desperation in Sana’s voice pulled at something deep inside her, something that still wanted to believe in the version of Sana who had once made her feel whole. But now, that version felt like a lie.
Even as the words hung in the air, Y/N could feel the pull. It was the same as it had always been, when she’d said it was over, Sana hadn’t heard her. Not really. All Sana had heard was, “Baby, can you pull me in closer?” And every time before, Y/N had let her.
But this time was different. It had to be.
Later that night, Y/N sat alone in the apartment. The only light came from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside, casting uneven shadows across the room.
Her thoughts were a chaotic tangle of anger, guilt, and exhaustion, each emotion crashing over her like relentless waves.
She wasn’t innocent in this, she realized. She had ignored her instincts, fed into Sana’s need for control because it made her feel wanted, needed. She had convinced herself that the intensity of their love, the highs that left her breathless and the lows that shattered her, was proof of something real, something worth fighting for.
She thought back to every moment she had brushed aside the red flags, every time she had excused Sana’s behavior with the same tired reasoning: She just loves me so much. But now, those excuses felt hollow, stripped of the power they once held.
This wasn’t love. This was a game Sana had been playing all along. And worse, it was a game Y/N had willingly joined, feeding into the chaos, finding her own twisted satisfaction in the drama and the thrill.
The apartment was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, each second stretching endlessly before her.
Y/N leaned back against the couch, her head resting on the edge as she stared at the ceiling. “How did it get this bad?” she whispered to no one.
The only answer was the quiet hum of the city outside, a distant rhythm that seemed to echo the chaos in her heart. Y/N sat in the stillness, her gaze drifting back to the chessboard. The queen stood tall, unshaken, but the sight of it no longer felt like a challenge it felt like a cage.
The pieces weren’t scattered by chance, they were placed, deliberate and calculated. Y/N realized that as long as she stayed, the game would never end. She would keep losing herself, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to give.
Her chest tightened as the weight of her decision settled over her. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. Slowly, she rose from the couch, her movements hesitant at first but gaining strength with every step. She didn’t need all the answers yet. She just needed to take the first one. She had to leave.
In the days that followed, Y/N prepared quietly, methodically. She found a new apartment on the other side of town, small, simple, but hers. She made sure the lease was signed and the keys were in her hand before she packed her things. Every step of the process felt surreal, like she was watching someone else’s life unfold.
She packed in secret, careful not to draw Sana’s attention. It wasn’t just about leaving, it was about ensuring Sana couldn’t find her. The thought made Y/N’s chest ache with guilt, but she pushed it aside. She owed herself this clean break.
When the day came, Y/N returned to the apartment one last time to collect the rest of her things.
The apartment was eerily quiet as Y/N stood by the door, her suitcase by her side. The weight of her decision hung heavy in the air, every breath she took feeling like a step into uncharted territory. Sana stood a few feet away, her eyes red and swollen, her hands clenched tightly together as if she were physically holding herself back from reaching out.
“Please, Y/N,” Sana’s voice broke, thick with tears. “Don’t do this. I can change. I will change. Just… Please don’t leave me.”
Y/N’s throat tightened, the pain in Sana’s voice cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. For a moment, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. Memories flashed through her mind, Sana’s laughter, the way her eyes sparkled during their late-night conversations, the way she had once made Y/N feel like the center of the universe.
But then came the other memories: the fights, the manipulation, the moments of doubt and helplessness that had slowly eroded the foundation of their relationship.
Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I can’t do this anymore, Sana,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I’ve given you everything I had, and it still wasn’t enough. I can’t keep losing myself like this.”
Sana took a step forward, her hands outstretched. “You’re not losing yourself, you’re finding yourself with me. We can fix this, Y/N. Together.”
Y/N turned to face her, the sadness in Sana’s expression pulling at her heart. “I’ve been trying to fix this for months,” she said softly. “But the truth is, we’ve been breaking each other. I need to let go, Sana. I need to let myself heal.”
Tears streamed down Sana’s face as she whispered, “I love you.”
Y/N nodded, her own tears threatening to fall. “I know. But love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.”
She turned the handle and stepped out, closing the door behind her before the pull to stay became too strong.
Outside, the crisp evening air hit her like a wave, clearing the fog in her mind. Her suitcase rolled unevenly over the cracks in the pavement as she walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last.
When she reached the end of the block, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She stopped, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled it out.
The message was from Sana.
I know I’ve hurt you, but I can be better. Please give me one more chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.
Y/N stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. The words were everything she had wanted to hear for so long, everything she had hoped for during the countless nights she had spent doubting herself.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, the urge to reply clawing at her. She could feel the pull, the desire to relive the highs of their relationship, to chase the fleeting moments of joy that had once made her believe in them.
But the pain wasn’t worth the promise of temporary happiness anymore. She couldn’t go back, not to Sana, and not to the version of herself who had allowed the cycle to continue.
Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself. She didn’t reply.
Hours later, the city pulled her outside. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay within the confines of her new apartment, where the silence pressed down like a weight. She wandered aimlessly through the streets, her steps heavy, her mind a storm of memories she couldn’t stop replaying.
Somehow, her fingers found the necklace, tugging it free from her pocket. The cool metal was damp from her grip, the pendant swinging lightly as she walked. It felt heavier than it should, laden with the promises Sana had made, the ones Y/N had once believed.
The rain had started softly, almost unnoticed, but now it poured, streaking down in cold rivulets that blurred the city skyline into a wash of shimmering lights. Y/N stood frozen on the empty sidewalk, her hands trembling as she clutched the delicate necklace. The memories played on repeat, an unrelenting loop of love and chaos.
A sharp honk jolted her back to the present. She blinked, startled, realizing she had wandered into the edge of the street. A car sped past, the splash of water snapping her fully out of her thoughts.
She turned, her breath visible in the cold air as she glanced back at the skyline one last time. The city lights shimmered like the tears that threatened to spill over, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to move.
At her apartment, Y/N stood in the quiet of her small kitchen, the necklace Sana had given her dangling from her hand. She turned it over, the delicate chain catching the light, its small pendant glinting like a final remnant of the life she was leaving behind.
For a moment, she considered keeping it, just as a memory, a token of what they’d shared. But even as she thought it, she knew it would be a weight she couldn’t carry.
With deliberate care, Y/N let the necklace fall into the trash. The sound it made as it hit the bottom was soft, almost imperceptible, but it felt like a thunderclap in her chest.
She stood there for a moment, staring into the trash as if expecting the necklace to call her back. When it didn’t, she closed the lid, the act feeling both final and liberating.
As she walked to the window, the city lights stretched out before her, vibrant and full of possibility. For the first time in what felt like years, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope, not for the love she had lost, but for the love she was beginning to find within herself.
The days that followed were slow and quiet, but Y/N welcomed the stillness. She filled the emptiness with small steps forward: rearranging her new apartment, picking up books she hadn’t read in years, and beginning to journal the thoughts that had weighed her down for so long.
Over time, the heaviness started to lift.
Months had passed since Y/N left, and the weight that had once pressed on her chest now felt lighter, manageable. She sat in the sunlit corner of her new apartment, a cup of tea in one hand and her journal in the other. The space was small but bright, with clean lines and open shelves, a far cry from the dimly lit apartment she had shared with Sana.
She set down her tea and picked up her pen, the journal’s pages already filled with reflections, questions, and truths she hadn’t been ready to face before. Therapy had helped her unpack the layers of their relationship, the highs that had made her stay, the lows that had broken her, and the role she had played in perpetuating it all.
“I was just as addicted to the chaos as she was,” Y/N wrote, her pen moving steadily across the page. “But now, I know better.”
The memories still surfaced sometimes, unbidden and sharp. She could still hear Sana’s voice in her head, the promises, the pleas. The lyrics from a song she’d heard recently echoed in her mind:
“You were plotting how to stay in my head, We were toxic till the end.”
Y/N set her pen down, closing her eyes. It was true, Sana had stayed in her head long after she’d left, but the hold was loosening.
Her gaze shifted to the canvas, the blankness of it inviting rather than intimidating. It was a stark contrast to the chessboard she had left behind, the rigid lines, the scattered pawns, the queen standing tall. The canvas didn’t ask her to play a role. It simply waited for her to decide what to create.
She picked up her journal again, flipping back to a page she had written weeks ago. She had reflected on the lessons she’d learned, the things she could forgive, and the things she couldn’t.
“I can forgive you for a lot of things,” she had written, quoting the song that had felt like a lifeline in her darkest moments. “For not giving me back my Tiffany rings. I’ll never forgive you for one thing, my dear. You wasted my prettiest years.”
But now, sitting in the soft glow of her new life, Y/N felt a shift. The bitterness wasn’t as sharp as it had been.
She turned to a fresh page and wrote.
“She wasted my prettiest years, but I taught myself how to cherish the rest of them.”
The words felt like closure, final and freeing.
As the sunlight poured in, Y/N set her journal aside and walked to the canvas. She picked up a brush, the blank space before her a promise of what could be.
For the first time in years, Y/N felt like she wasn’t playing a game or following someone else’s rules. She was creating something entirely her own.
#minatozaki sana x reader#kpop imagines#girl group imagines#kpop x reader#gg x reader#sana x reader#twice sana#twice imagines#sana imagines#twice x reader#twice x fem reader
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romantic tension with abby
summary: in the warm glow of abby's bedroom, after a day of shared hobbies, you contemplate your deepening feelings for her and hope that perhaps she feels the same
content: friends (to lovers???), sfw, literally nothing else
notes: wrote a part two :p i need to write more fluff bc there is such a shortage AND especially with abby. this is like so domestic like in the way that there's no extra interactions. like this is literally how me and a friend would act after a day of painting!! just sleepy and tired zzzzz
(wc 0.7k)
the setting sun cast an orange glow on abby's bedroom where the two of you lay on her floor, bathing in the heat radiating from her large window. you'd just finished painting birdhouses for the married pair of sparrows that frequented the birdseed abby had set out. they would dance around each other and sing their chirpy harmonies and then take turns pecking at the various seeds from the feeder, so abby thought it necessary to handmake them houses in her shop.
this was one of your many duet activities of abby's "grandma hobbies," as you called them. you two had fed the ducks down at the lake, gone through an entire coloring book, built lego sets, and done nearly a dozen puzzles—one of which was glued and framed in abby's kitchen.
you guys spent every free moment of time together, and counted down the time until you could when one was busy. you were the closest of friends, but lately you found yourself wanting more—or at least thinking about how it would be if you were more. coming home to each other instead of making the fifteen-minute drive any time you wanted to see her. being able to actually tell her when she looked so pretty it made you hold your breath instead of chewing on your lip.
she shifted next to you, bending her legs at the knees and pulling you out of your thoughts. "i should probably wash the brushes before the paint dries on them, right?"
you almost tell her she shouldn't so that you could lay with her a little while longer, but you give in. "yeah, you should."
she sits up to stand, grunting as she lifts her body weight and moving to the crafting cloth where your birdhouses currently sat drying. you sat up and leaned against the foot of her bed, watching as she so delicately readjusts the cloth so that it doesn't smudge your paint job.
scrubbing your hands down your face, you push up off the bed and move to grab a sweatshirt of hers to change into, taking your paint-covered tank off and slipping the sweatshirt over your head. it sat baggy on your body with her being bigger than you are just about everywhere, and you threw the hood over your head and dropped onto the right side of her bed.
she returns with her hands patting on her sweats to dry them off. seeing you in the bed, she comes to sit next to you, with you on your back and her laying on her side to face you.
"you wanna just stay the night?" she says, her voice lifting at the end as if it were a question and not a declaration. "it's too late to go home alone."
"yeah, i think i will," you respond. you remember the origami book she bought at the farmer's market last saturday. "only if we make paper cranes until our fingers bleed from paper cuts tomorrow," you grin, turning to look at her and see she's already looking back at you.
"okay. i have lots of band-aids," she jokes.
you chuckle, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, sheepishly smiling at the other while holding eye contact.
"can we also get those berry pastries from the cafe? and make those butterflies we saw on pinterest?" you ask, your cheeks still kissing your eyes.
"yeah, i'll wake up early to get them for breakfast," she nods. "and i only got that book so we can make things together—we can make whatever you want."
in place of a response, you slip your fingers between hers and tightly squeeze her hand, ignoring your frustration with the uncertainty of her feelings for you.
the tip of her nose pinks a bit before she opens her mouth. "good night. we need brain power for making cranes."
you turn onto your side as well to face her, your noses nearly touching. "good night, abby," you grin, high on the feel of her skin on yours and the way she's looking at you.
you fall asleep with a smile on your face because your close friend, abby, may just like you, too.
@picklesarenice69 @abbyandersonsrightbuttcheek
yayyy i’m back :3
click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶
#mystellenia 𐑂°‧₊#abby anderson#abby tlou#abby the last of us#abby x reader#abby anderson x reader#abby x y/n#abby x you#tlou#the last of us#tlou hbo#the last of us x reader#the last of us x you#the last of us x y/n#tlou abby#abby anderson tlou2#abby x fem!reader#abby anderson x female reader
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super rich kids || sam golbach & colby brock
SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: drug usage to like the max extent, snc & reader are highkey all horny rich drug addicts. there are very much angsty undertones. i do not encourage nor condone inappropriate drug usage. threesome, anal, lots of praise honestly, double penetration.
“Well, that’s another party for the books!” Sam cheered.
The three of you had sobered up after a long night of partying, the mansion finally quiet as Colby finished climbing through the secret hatch to the root. The roof tile was rough against your bare legs, your sequin dress riding up your thighs. You had been friends with the boys since childhood, them becoming successful youtubers while you were their undercover manager. The money and fame had been around for quite a few years now, the only thing keeping any of you going being each other. “We throw parties like five times a month dude, this one was definitely tame compared to the others,” Colby countered. The sunrise was coming over the horizon, bright yellows and oranges painting the skies.
“At least this one wasn’t bombarded with fans. ‘Oh my God it’s Sam and Colby!! Oh my God!!’ Like fuck off let me do a line in peace,” You said, brutally mocking the fans who had snuck their way into the boys last party. “Speaking of lines, you got anymore on you?” Sam asked. Colby settled in beside you, bringing his knees closer to him. “I fuckin wish, maybe then I wouldn’t be such a bitch,” You hummed, mentally slapping yourself for not reserving some coke for after the thrasher. You all dug into your pockets, trying to find something to get high off of. You all came up empty handed, a groan escaping your lips. Sam playfully elbowed you, giving you a small grin.
“Relax pretty princess, when’s the last time we’ve all been sober anyways?”
The question stung like a fresh burn, the gears in your head slowly turning. Truthfully you couldn’t recall. When was the last time you all three had been sober together? Coke wasn’t any of your main choices but a party was a party, right? Wealth brought a lot of things. Drugs, fake friends, soul sucking lovers who only saw you for the dollar amount over your head. “Oh look there’s Emma and her crew,” Sam pointed at the white van pulling through the gates. The three of you felt like you saw the boys cleaning crew more than you saw any of your so called social media friends. “We should probably buy them a better car that van looks like shit,” Colby commented.
You tucked your knees up to your chest, watching Sam wave to the cleaning crew. “They should be used to seeing us up here. They know we love this view,” Sam said. You felt like shit, your high having plummeted and leaving you out to dry. “This fucking sucks,” You grumbled, nuzzling your face into your arm. Colby threw his arm around you, bringing you closer to him. “The come down doesn’t last forever, you’ll be alright,” He said encouragingly. Truthfully he felt just as shitty as you did. You leaned your head against him, taking a deep breath. When’s the last time you had been sober enough to feel yourself breathe? “Do you think life will always be like this?” You asked. The boys turned to look at you. “What do you mean by that?” Sam asked. You forced yourself to blink your eyes open, wrapping your arms around your legs. “I mean this can’t be it right? The ecstasy is great but it feels like shit when it’s over. Is money the real root to happiness or am I missing something here?” You asked.
“Are you sure the real key to happiness isn’t xanax?”
“Colby!”
Sam went to reach over you to playfully smack Colby, causing you to chuckle and roll your eyes. Once they settled down Sam spoke again, “Seriously though, I think that all that matters in this life is the three of us. As long as we have each other the rest will turn out fine.”
You could feel your smudged eyeliner burning your eyes, causing your waterlines to water. “Awe cmon, let’s get miss existential crisis cleaned up,” Colby chuckled, helping you rise to your feet. The three of you went into Sam’s bathroom, that shower being the biggest out of the three. Maybe it was some weird attachment issues all of you had, but you each felt the need to be around the others at all times. This included showers, after the time you passed out in scorching hot water from a bad reaction to Valium. How were you supposed to know how much mg it was? You never asked those kinds of questions. After that the three of you were closer then ever, showering and sleeping in each others beds like kids. Even with all the money in the world you only found comfort in one another. The water was warm, a soft groan escaping your lips as you tilted your head back towards the water.
“Feel that good huh?” Sam teased. You splashed water at him, the blonde laughing as he joined you. The shower was anything but small, multiple shower heads hung from the ceiling and marble seating on the sides. It had more than enough room for three people, that certainly didn’t keep you all from staying close together though. Colby shut the shower door, the three of you soaking in the warmth the shower provided. “We should’ve gotten something for the come down,” You sighed. trying to relax. You felt Sam’s arms wrap around your waist, while Colby cupped your face. You melted under their touch, your gaze meeting Colby’s. “Why don’t you let us take care of that?” He purred. One other thing to note about your dynamic with the boys, one that was far more notable than anything previous mentioned, was your love for them.
There were no labels tied to the three of you. But in a world of stds and crazy fans trying to get themselves pregnant to trap them, you only trusted one another. You melted into Colby’s kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. The wealth and drugs meant nothing at all if you couldn’t have them at the end of the day. Sam moved your hair away from your neck, placing his lips against your skin. Sam loved to litter you with hickies. Watching you get all flustered when asked who gave them to you was a sight to see. You groaned into Colby’s mouth as Sam’s hands explored your body, caressing and squeezing every curve. The only high you could never get enough of, one that could never be replaced, was the one the boys provided you. You could feel both boys grow hard around you, your hands slithering down to both of their cocks. Sam chuckled from behind you, slithering his hand down to your cunt.
The hot water and both boys on you like wild animals was suffocating in the best way possible. You pumped both of them in unison, sinful noises from all three of you bouncing around the shower walls. Sam’s fingers slowly swirled around your clit, causing you to moan louder than you had anticipated. “Awe there’s our noisy girl,” Colby praised. Your eyes fluttered closed as he kissed the other side of your neck, just as eager as Sam to litter you with marks. It was hard enough explaining how you gained hickies on one side of your neck, nevertheless both. You tried to focus on jerking both of the boys off, your focus becoming skewed as Sam's fingers began to circle your clit faster. Your moans were becoming louder and more uncontrolled, the boys exchanging devious smirks. "Theres no doubt the maids can hear her," Colby stated calmly, as if he was discussing the weather. He took the opportunity to gently nibble at your neck, causing your ass to press against Sam. "I think that's what she wants, isn't it?" Sam asked teasingly.
The blonde slithered down to your entrance, shoving two fingers inside. "She's already so wet for us Colby, you should feel it," Sam said, rutting his hips into your hand. The brunette stared down at you lustfully, his pupils blown with lost. "I think I will," He agreed. You whined as Colby shoved a finger inside of your cunt alongside Sam's, mimicking Sam's curling upwards. "S-So full," You whimpered, grabbing onto Colby for support. Colby shoved in another finger, your walls spasming as they struggled to take both boys sets of fingers. The four fingers buried inside of you were stretching you to what felt like your limit, your eyes fluttering shut. "Sorry pretty princess, you know i'm not a patient man," Colby chuckled. You bit your bottom lip, your gummy walls clinging to their digits. They matched each others pace, curling their fingers at the same time. You could feel them brush against your g spot, your head tilting back against Sam's shoulder for support. Your hips were moving on their own, involuntarily grinding against their fingers, begging for more.
"What's wrong? Four fingers not enough for you?" Sam asked mockingly, nibbling at your earlobe. Colby grabbed your throat, squeezing the sides, He brought his thumb to your lip, pulling it downwards assertively. "Oh don't be so mean Sam, you know there's only one way she can cum," He reminded him. It was true, the amount of drugs you all consumed affecting the way you were able to orgasm. You couldn't even recall everything you had tried, but you did know a couple of things for sure. While high on whatever was presented in front of you, you could cum in all kinds of ways. There was no limit, the boys able to make you cum off of anything. A brief memory of them getting you off by having you hump the side of the bathroom sink while they watched came to mind. But sober? There was only one way for you to find sweet relief. "You know what to do, jump for us," Sam cooed encouragingly. You did as instructed, both sets of their strong hands helping you wrap your legs around Colby's waist. You relaxed under their grasp, trusting them to know they'd keep you in position.
Their fingers abandoned your cunt, a whine escaping your lips as you clenched around nothing. "Would you do the honors Colb?" Sam asked, rubbing his shaft up and down the molds of your ass. The brunette and you watched as he rubbed his cock up and down your folds, before slowly shoving it inside of you. You moaned his name, both of you mesmerized as your cunt eagerly pulled him in. "Think she's desperate for us," Colby said casually. The boys had an ongoing bit where they talked to each other as if you weren't there, your body a dead give a way you loved every second of it. "Is that so? Hurry up and get in there so I can give her what she wants," Sam chuckled, kissing up the side of your neck to help with the stretch. There was never an issue with whoever took your cunt, the real challenge was whoever took you from behind. You could feel Colby's large hands securely grabbing your ass, spreading it apart for Sam's viewing. His tip brushed against your g spot, your body tensing as Sam spat on your asshole. "Relax pretty girl, you've done this before," Colby cooed, trying to refocus your attention back on him. He brought his lips to yours, entrancing you in a mesmerizing kiss as Sam began to push himself inside of you from behind.
You gasped into Colby's mouth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as Sam pushed into you. You felt so full, your legs shaking as both boys held you up. Sam was rolling his bottom lip in between his teeth, slowly but surely pushing into you. "Doing so well for us," The blonde panted, the three of you becoming one. Your nails dug into Colby's arm, promising to leave marks afterwards. Both boys had bottomed out in both of your holes, something they had done many times before. "Please m-move," You sputtered, allowing your eyes to flutter shut as the pain and pleasure mixed together as they started to move their hips in unison. The three of you were all moaning messes as they picked up their paces. "Such a good girl, taking us so well," Sam praised, slithering his hand down to your clit. He began rubbing fast circles, the three of you desperate for a taste of euphoria. "So desperate for us, fucking hell," Colby groaned, watching your cunt hungrily take his cock with each thrust. You felt full to the maximum extent, your thighs trembling. You were sure if it weren't for their strong hands you would have fallen. They abused your holes as they pleased, your moans only becoming louder.
"I think she wants the maids to hear her, dirty girl," Colby snickered. Sam pinched your clit, causing you to cry out in confusion, pain, and pleasure. The boys chuckled, your vision seeing stars as they fucked you senseless. "Ah that did it Sam, I think she's gonna cum soon," The brunette continued, fucking up into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered open, the warm water creating small droplets in your eyelashes. "Am nottt," You slurred, the knot in your stomach tightening. They were always able to do this, without even trying. They knew your body so well it was hypnotizing. "Cumming already? Someone really is our personal slut," Sam chimed in. You wanted to argue more, but your body was giving in to their thrust. Their grip on you was steel like, their thrust merciless as they abused your holes. You couldn't even warn them of your orgasm, your body convulsing as you came around their cocks. Your vision was blinded with stars, your body becoming limp in their arms. Spots clouded your vision, your breath growing shallow as you were on the brim of passing out. Your heart worked overtime when you were sober, unable to keep up with extreme forms of euphoria without a substance to assist it.
You could hear the boys talking, their voices mumbled and incoherent as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. As your vision faded into darkness, a thought of getting clean crossed your mind.
"Pretty princess?"
You blinked as you snapped out of your day dreaming state, recalling the events of a couple of months ago. You turned to Sam, who was holding up a silver platter with your favorite white dust decorating it.
"Want a bump?"
You nodded as he handed you a rolled up hundred dollar bill, holding his own to his nose. You watched him snort the line, your veins coursing with excitement. Maybe you'd become sober one day, but not anytime soon. Besides, what super rich kid doesn't live life this way. There's nothing else to make one feel so alive, right?
#sam and colby x reader#sam golbach x reader#sam golbach smut#sam and colby smut#sam golbach#sam and colby#colby brock x reader#colby brock smut#colby brock
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Stiff Competition | Bob Floyd x Reader
Summary: After visiting your bakery one time, Bob has a crush on you. The only problem is, so do all of the other guys.
Warnings: Fluff and some swears
Length: 2500 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader
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Bob quietly followed his friends inside the trendy, new bakery that opened near base. He had become so accustomed to the bickering between Hangman and Rooster, he found it almost soothing, even early on a Monday morning.
"No way," Bradley said, shaking his head at Jake. "You're wrong, and now you're just being stubborn."
Jake sighed calmly. "I'm just saying, there's no way anyone, Fred included, would pick Velma over Daphne. It's unrealistic."
Bradley grunted in response. "Whatever. Smart girls are always hot."
Bob just cradled his forehead in his hand and let the rich smell of fresh coffee and baked goods wash over his senses. All three men in their khaki uniforms shuffled forward as the line moved.
"Holy shit," Bradley and Jake muttered softly and in perfect unison.
"Do you see what I see?" Bradley asked, staring entranced at the sight before him.
"Oh hell yes, I do," Jake confirmed with a nod.
Bob immediately looked in the direction they were staring, and his breath caught in his throat. All three of them were now eyeing you up where you stood behind the counter. You were smiling at one of the patrons and filling a pastry box with donuts.
"She's kinda hot," Bradley whispered.
"Better than that. She's fucking gorgeous," Jake replied.
Bob silently agreed with them, noting the adorable smudge of flour on your cheek. He had always been a little shy, a little timid around women. And he was not about to get into a dick measuring contest with Bradley and Jake. He would just let the two of them fight it out, because Bob was never the one to get the stunning girl.
When it was their turn to order, Bob watched the other two men trip over each other to get to the counter first. You smiled at each of them in turn, your gaze lingering on Bob and making him blush.
"Hi! What can I get for you fellas?" you asked the three of them, and Bob completely forgot what he was going to order.
"Hey, gorgeous. What would you recommend?" Bradley asked in a deep and raspy voice as he leaned against the counter and peered at you over his aviators.
You chuckled and shook your head. "I would recommend the citrus muffin with orange zest."
"Perfect, I'll get six of those," he said, his smile twitching below his mustache. "I'm Bradley, by the way."
"And I'm Jake! And I'll get a dozen muffins." Bob watched Jake flash you a megawatt smile, and he wished he could be half as charming.
"A dozen muffins?" you asked Jake. Your eyes skimmed back over Bob's face with an amused glint in your eye.
"Actually, I'll take two dozen," Bradley said, changing his order and glaring at Jake.
"So you want a total of three dozen muffins?" you asked before turning toward the bakery case. "Okay.... seems excessive," you muttered.
Bob watched you intently as you packed up bakery boxes of muffins and entered them into the register. You must have known what was going on here, but you just smiled at the three of them as you worked.
"Anything for you?" you asked, flashing Bob a smile that made him feel a little nervous. "You're awfully quiet back there."
"Uh, just a small coffee, please," he muttered, getting out his wallet and trying to stay cool.
"One hundred and twenty eight dollars is your total," you announced, and Jake and Bradley both tried to get you to take their credit cards at the same time.
"I've got it, I insist," Bradley said.
"Use my platinum card," Jake announced loudly.
"Use mine. His will definitely be declined," Bradley replied, trying to nudge Jake out of the way.
You carefully took one in each hand and said, "Um... I'm just going to split it between both cards. How does that sound?"
When the enormous quantity of muffins had been collected, and you handed Bob his coffee, he forced himself to meet your eyes. "Thank you, miss," he said softly, as your fingers grazed against his. "You have a lovely day."
Bob watched you bite your lip as he tucked five dollars into the tip jar and nodded his head at you.
"Thanks. See you soon, I hope," you called as he turned to leave. Bob glanced back one last time as he exited the bakery, and you were still looking at him.
------------------------------
On Tuesday at lunchtime, Bob was about to eat the sandwich he had packed, but Jake suggested going back to the bakery.
"I hope she's working again today," Bradley said, grabbing his car keys.
Jake nodded enthusiastically. "Hot little piece like that, she's gotta have a boyfriend."
Bradley snorted. "Wouldn't be the first time I've stolen a girl from another guy."
"What makes you think she'd pick you when I'm available?" Jake asked.
Bob just tuned them out until they all arrived at the bakery. He was hoping to see you again too, but he just wanted to listen to your voice and watch you smile. He'd let the other two do most of the talking. They were good at that sort of thing.
"Gorgeous," Bradley called you. "How've you been?"
"Fine," you replied, once again smiling at the three of them. "What can I get for you today? Another coffee for you?" you asked Bob, and he just nodded in reply. He didn't need more caffeine today, but he wanted you to hand him the cup again. He'd just give it to Phoenix when he got back on base.
Bob listened to the other two men once again order more pastries than anyone could ever need, and this time Jake pulled a massive wad of cash out of his wallet and insisted on paying for everything. Bradley had a sour look on his face that he tried to hide when you smiled at him and handed him two bags of food.
Then he stood to his full height, chest puffed out. "Thanks, gorgeous," Bradley said, sliding his aviators back into place. Bob watched Jake try to stand as tall as Bradley, failing and looking ridiculous in the process. Bob just closed in on himself a little more, trying to blend his tall frame into the background.
"And your coffee," you said, handing the disposable cup to Bob with another beautiful smile. His hand shook when he accepted the cup, and a little bit of the beverage sloshed down the sleeve of his flight suit and splashed onto the counter.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Bob muttered, setting down the cup and reaching for the napkins.
"No, it was my fault," you assured him. "I'll clean it up, you don't have to."
"Bob!" Jake called from the doorway. "What's the holdup, man? You coming?"
"Uh, I'll meet you at the car," he replied, mopping up the drink and drying his sleeve.
"Your name's Bob?" you asked him softly.
He glanced up to meet your warm gaze and nodded once. "Yes. I'm Lieutenant Robert Floyd, but everyone calls me Bob," he said quietly.
You smiled and told him your name. "Here you go, Bob. These are on the house. Sorry I spilled your coffee."
Bob took a small paper bag from you and picked up his coffee cup once more. "Oh, that's not necessary. It was my fault."
"I insist," you told him. "See you again soon?"
He looked down at his feet and smiled. "Yes. See you again soon."
"I can't wait."
---------------------------------
On Friday morning, Bob was a nervous wreck. He'd been thinking about you all week, but he knew the other guys had been, too. They had been talking about you a lot, but Bob was too shy to tell them he was also interested in you.
He'd given the coffee to Phoenix the other day, but he smiled when he opened the bag and found a croissant. His favorite. It seemed like you knew. And it was flaky and perfect, and he couldn't wait to see you again and get another one.
"Bakery time!" Bradley announced. "Time to visit the hottie. You coming, Bob?"
Bob fell into step behind him and Jake, but then Reuben and Javy were joining as well. "Everyone's coming today?" Bob asked, squeezing into Reuben's car along with the other four.
"Yeah, can't wait to see this girl," Javy said.
"Heard she's sexy," Reuben agreed.
Bob just stared out the window and sighed. He was just going to have to get over his crush on you. It was the only way to keep his heart from breaking. He wouldn't look at you, and he wouldn't talk to you. And he definitely wouldn't eat another croissant.
He shuffled into the bakery behind the others, and there you were. He tried to look at all of the baked goods in the case, but you greeted him by name. You greeted only him by name.
"Hi," he managed, and the other four guys turned to glare at him.
"Gorgeous, what would you recommend today?" Bradley asked you.
"Blueberry muffins are good today," you replied, and you started packing up a box full at Javy's request.
"So, how long have you been working here?" Reuben asked, leaning so far across the counter, he may as well have just jumped over.
"I'm the owner and primary baker," you told them, and Bob was so impressed.
"Wow, gorgeous. Your muffins are really famous around here. We can't stop coming back for more," Bradley said, smirking at you. But you were looking at Bob again as he inched forward.
"Did you make the croissant? It was very good," he told you, unable to look away.
You beamed at him. "I did. They're my specialty."
Bob swallowed hard, all four guys looking at him in surprise now. "Could... uh, could I have another one? I'll pay for it this time though, if you don't mind. It was delicious."
"Of course, Bob. Anything you want." You turned to get a bag ready, and Bob thought he might faint.
Jake turned and mouthed at him, "Anything you want?"
Bob just shrugged and made his way toward the register. He was pouring sweat in his flight suit, trying to stay as calm as possible. You met him at the other end of the counter and smiled as you slid a bag and a small coffee his way.
"Three dollars," you told him softly, as if you could tell he was nervous, but you didn't seem to mind.
"What about the coffee?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses.
"On the house."
Bob quickly paid you for the croissant, as he could already hear Jake and the others getting restless.
Jake leaned across the counter as you ran his credit card. "You interested in pilots?" he asked with a smirk.
You just swiped the card and handed it back to him. "You're all pilots?" you asked, smiling at all of them.
"Nah, Bob here is just a backseater," Reuben said loudly, slapping Bob on the back and nearly spilling his coffee.
"Oh, so Bob's the brains of the operation? Sounds about right," you said, sending a subtle wink in his direction.
Bob's ears felt a little fuzzy and his collar felt a little too tight. Maybe he had imagined the wink. Yes, that must be it.
The guys all hooted, and Jake said, "Well sure, Bob's smart and organized, but that's not as exciting."
You just shrugged. "Still sounds exciting to me. Hope you guys all have a safe flight this afternoon. Enjoy your croissant, Bob."
He floated out onto the sidewalk with the others, still in a daze.
"What the fuck, guys? She likes Bob the best?" Javy said in disbelief as they all walked back to the car. "Hangman and Rooster, you two really dropped the ball."
"Does she?" Bob asked quietly. "She likes me?"
Reuben shoved half a muffin into his mouth and grinned. "You should ask her out, man."
Bob thought about asking you out the whole drive back to base and as he walked to meet up with Phoenix. When he finally opened the bag to eat his croissant, he saw that you had put three inside.
--------------------------
Late Saturday morning, Bob paced around outside of the bakery with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He'd peeked in through the window and saw that you and another girl were working, but he'd lost his nerve. He was on the verge of heading back to his car and calling it a day when the door opened, and he could smell the croissants.
"You can do it," he told himself and rushed inside before he could turn around.
"Bob!" you called with a bright smile. "Back for more croissants?"
He took a deep breath and headed toward you. He noticed you were looking at the flowers in his hand, but you didn't say anything or rush him to respond, which he appreciated. You just smiled and leaned on the counter.
"Yes, I would like another croissant," he muttered, and you pushed up from the counter to get it for him. "Actually, I would like two. But you need to let me pay for both of them today."
"Okay. Sure, Bob," you said with the tiniest smile as you put two into a bag. But now you didn't look as happy, and he wanted to kick himself. How had he messed this up already?
He met you at the register, and you asked him, "So, are the flowers for your wife? Or your girlfriend?"
"Oh, neither," he said, lifting them a little higher. "I don't have either of those."
You looked up at him and bit your lip. "Who's the extra croissant for?"
Bob watched your lips as you waited for him to answer. He was sweating, but he was in too deep to turn back now. "I, um... thought maybe we could eat them together. When you're done working. If you're not too busy."
Your smile lit up your face again. "I would like that."
Bob's smile matched your own. "You would?"
"Yeah," you told him with a nod. "You're so sweet. Much better than your friends. Are those flowers for me?"
Bob looked at the floor as he felt himself blushing. "Oh, yeah," he said, handing them to you. "Of course they are."
He watched you disappear into the kitchen for a minute, only to reappear without the flowers or your apron. Then you joined him on his side of the counter. Without any hesitation, you placed one hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.
"Let's go for a walk," you told him, and Bob's heart was absolutely pounding for you. "I know a nice bench, perfect for eating croissants."
Bob felt you lace your fingers through his, and he held your hand in his larger one. "Lead the way."
-----------------------
This fic is for my Bobby loving friend Alex!!! @bradshawsbitch
Thanks to Alli @beyondthesefourwalls for giving this a read for me.
I hope I have done our Loverboy Bob justice!
@theamuz
@cherrycola27
@katiedid-3
@mak-32
@je-suis-prest-rachel
@endofdays56
@avaleineandafryingpan
@t-nd-rfoot
@wkndwlff
@eddiemunsonreader
@wintercap89
@the-fever-of-mankind
@yanna-banana
#robert floyd x reader#top gun fanfiction#bob floyd x female reader#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x reader#bob top gun
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simple words | pt. 1
Part 2 | Part 3 | Read on Ao3
Sanji sparks a light, just as the rising sun sends a beam of light through his tiny kitchen porthole.
Really, he wants to ask Franky if he can do something about that. Sanji’s favorite part of the day, and he can’t properly enjoy it through just a tiny porthole what with croissants that need an egg wash before the dough gets too warm, and bacon cooking alongside a maple glaze that will burn the sugar if it gets too hot, and weighing out the proper mix of five different tea leaves that he knows makes Zoro smile into his cup when he thinks no one is looking, and all the other things that must be done in a precise order, perfectly timed, so that breakfast is ready, but with a welcoming sort of ease fit for first thing in the morning, as his crewmates start to stumble in after a late night to enjoy it.
Not to mention, he needs more airflow in here. Sanji pauses as the sunray reflects off the ceramic of his stovetop to open the porthole. He exhales in its direction and ashes his cigarette after, so nothing disrupts the flavor of this meal.
But Franky worked so hard on this ship, and Sanji knows how much thought was put into every other aspect of his kitchen, his wine cellar, his aquarium with the freshest and most delicious fish he can find, that he can’t bring himself to critique something so trivial.
A crisp gust of wind blows the smoke back in his face, and into his kitchen.
Sanji sighs.
It’s so trivial.
But he can’t get it out of his head, what that stupid moss brain said to him last night.
And he knows it wasn’t personal, or intentional, or even really meant as an insult at all.
In fact, it was one of those rare moments that Sanji loves, when they catch each other in just the right mood, both just drunk enough, both alone.
Their crewmates were all laughing and yelling and drinking in the room over, oblivious to what was happening to Sanji just a stone’s throw away.
Sanji was returning with a few favorite picks from the wine cellar. A red blend for Robin, a sweet orange for Nami, whole milk for Luffy he grabbed from the kitchen, and whatever table wine for the rest, except for a small bottle of the finest sake he could get his hands on at that last island.
And the Sunny hit a swell. And Sanji, normally used to these unexpected changes in his center of gravity from being on a ship his whole stinking life, was too distracted polishing a smudge off the sake bottle to react in time, and lost his balance.
Sanji was ready to go down, unable to break his fall with his arms so full of precious cargo. He held on tight and braced for impact, but that impact never came.
Because the next thing he knew, strong arms were wrapped around him, and his nose was buried in someone’s musky shoulder. He caught his breath, inhaling sharply.
It didn’t take him but a second to place that warm scent, and Sanji’s heart pounded hard. He could feel the sweat on Zoro’s neck from the warm, muggy night, and still smell the sweet rum of that cocktail Usopp spilled on him.
“Hey shit cook, watch where you’re going” Zoro barked, pushing Sanji away from his chest, “You can hold your liquor better than that. How drunk are you?”
Sanji gripped his liquor bottles tighter, realizing that, while he was no longer buried in Zoro’s chest, Zoro still hadn’t let go of his shoulders, his grip fierce.
“Not drunk enough to be getting manhandled by you.” Sanji retorted, enjoying that spark a suggestive comment always put into Zoro’s eye.
But that spark was a little different tonight.
Zoro took a step in. Instead of muttering something insulting back, like the swordsman usually would, he pulled Sanji in closer. “It’s a good thing I don’t like women anyway,” he said.
Sanji’s heart fell.
“Lucky me,” Sanji muttered back. He pushed by Zoro, suddenly resenting all touch.
He took a few pounding steps, but stopped.
Sanji turned around. Zoro was frozen where he left him.
“This is for you,” Sanji said, holding out the bottle of sake. Zoro turned and stared at it, for a moment. Then he took it.
Sanji left before Zoro said anything else.
I don’t like women anyway.
The words replay in his head for the thousandth time that morning, like a knife twisting. He takes a small sip of coffee, a new habit he picked up since his brief stay on Whole Cake Island, and opens the oven door to put the croissants in. A gust of hot air blows his hair back, taking him aback.
He cut it short recently, too short to tie back, and he still isn’t used to having it loose rather than up when cooking.
Nami said she loved short hair like that on girls, while she was cutting it, but that it would make him look like a boy. Sanji didn’t tell her that was kind of the whole point.
It’s hard to tell everyone that he is finally coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a woman, like they all think. That he’s never been, and it wasn’t until his time with Iva-sama that he finally realized it. That he learned what all those feelings he had meant, and that there were other people like him who also felt those things.
At the time he rejected it so horribly, terrified that he was also like that. He saw how difficult life was for those people, and he didn’t want his life to be any harder than it had been. He worked so hard to press those negative memories back. His childhood. He never wanted anything to be so hard again.
But then he trained alongside them. He talked to them. He cooked for them. And laughed with them. And he learned more about what being queer really was. It was hard, he was right about that, but it was also free. And all he ever wanted was to be free. Free like them.
It would just be hard first.
And he is just finally accepting that. Ever since he nearly lost everything that ever meant anything to him on Whole Cake Island, he is craving that freedom even more now. He thinks it’s finally time to go get it.
It will just be hard first.
Sanji inhales on his cigarette, allowing the nicotine and caffeine to gently wash over him, as he repeats it to himself, still in awe of how good it feels to not only know, but to accept. I am a transgender man.
Sanji exhales out the porthole, and closes the oven gently, letting that good feeling go.
He thinks of Zoro.
And wonders how on earth he’ll tell his friends.
Part 2
#one piece#zosan#trans!sanji#ftm!sanji#ftm sanji#trans sanji#trans!zosan#zoro x sanji#sanji x zoro#one piece fanfiction#zosan fanfic#onepiece#i rose from the tumblr dead to post this#pls lmk if you want more#the struggle between making this ftm or mtf sanji is so real#ik yall are fucking starved for trans sanji content so pls enjoy#sanji#black leg sanji#roronoa zoro#zoro
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