#tw; transactional relationship

[terrence-silver]

How would terry silver react if he was just passing by somewhere and overheard his beloved one on the phone talking to someone and saying something like "I don't care about that old man anyway i'm only with him for his money"

Is this Cheyenne Hamidi speaking?

Because, I mean, Terry would be devastated and he immediately thinks back to every business arrangement type of situationship he's ever had that was purely monetary in nature and how it didn't matter then, because there was no pretense of love there, perhaps, only the vague illusion purely for formality's sake, to keep the charade going. But, now? Now, for once, there's actually love involved and he cares so very deeply, only to be hit with this whole 'It's all for the money' bullcrap all over again, effectively being betrayed, with his vulnerabilities and trust dangerously trampled on and what's worse?

Behind his back? He's being talked of, made fun of, behind his back?

It would be pretty hard to describe the sheer level of mental breakdown Terry would have and how much rage, despair, grief and complete and utter helplessness seeps in through his lack of control, rendering him mortally dangerous.

Beloved wants to be a whore for hire? They want this to be transactional? They want him to pull out the 'Nothing's for free' philosophy? Fair enough. Anything for beloved. After an outpouring of violence, it is highly unlikely beloved ever leaves his mansion or his midst again. They'll be kept in a golden cage, on an enviable postal code, in a rich neighborhood, surrounded by all the lavish, material things money can buy, but they will never be rid of him. This is his spite. His punishment. His vendetta. How he copes with the pain and the rage. His heart being absolutely shattered. This will become their prison and they'll become his hole. A hole in a pretty, branded dress he gets to rip off, a hole on a luxurious bed they get to be fucked on, a hole fed the most expensive foods and a hole served the most exuberant drinks and they should be grateful for that too and that he didn't just end them for what they said. They wanted to be treated like a whore. They said so themselves, out of their own mouth, when they thought nobody's likely to hear. So? He'll treat them like a whore in his vindictiveness and toss them a piece of jewelry or diamonds when he's done because it's all for the money anyway, correct? Irony is, none of this would matter to him all that much if he simply didn't care tremendously about the person; but when he does? He could rip them to bloody shreds and put them through unimaginable suffering simply because he hoped --- he invested emotions into his beloved and now they took a big crap all over it, and that deserves revenge. That one phone call overheard costs beloved more than they've ever bargained for and if at all possible, they're never seen again, because Terry effectively keeps them hostage to his whims, his anger, his lust and his pain, and as I always say, it is simply better if they were just some passing sugar baby in a line up of many. They would be spared a lifetime of tears and agony.

But, considering he loves them?

He sees this as a declaration of total war and beloved as his prisoner.

[acid-ixx]

before the bell rings (a loving family, an unpalatable desire spin-off)

ft. romatic yandere bruce wayne x gn reader x platonic yandere batfam.

tw: slight nsfw. bruce watches and kisses you while you sleep. in no way, shape or form do i condone this behavior irl.

ihave a raging headache but i don't care because i love making spin-offs of my original series'. and now i've been thinking of something related to a loving family, an unpalatable desire where just like again &. again being the opposite of like him, in this current universe i'm writing about;

you're much too loved by your husband, bruce wayne.

there are eyes everywhere when you two have been into the first stages of your marriage. he may have proposed to you for the sake and promises of protection both your families agreed upon from when martha and thomas and alive— your relationship must've been purely transactional during your childhood; but in the process of knowing you better during the planning for your wedding, in the process of grief and accepting his parents' deaths, a broken childhood and cold glances—

bruce came to love the comfort and warmth you offered him.

the entire time he was convinced that your marriage will be all but a distant relationship all throughout planning for possible venues, cake designs, guests and attires; a task he chose to uphold for the sake of your preference of a picture perfect wedding and his reputation to keep in public.

it was all that, mere promises to maintain cordiality.

there would be no affectionate touches, or the need for intimacy during both your honeymoon stages. he respects your boundaries, and you do with his privacy. after the entire wedding, everything will return to normal; with the added fact that you'd simply be living in his mansion with no qualms to bother him whatsoever.

those were unsaid agreements that you yourself knew to abide by. you were never close with the man you'd be married with during childhood, after all. for him, you must've been a checklist for him to fulfill his parents' will; there was no love before or after his grief, not even when you'd attend the funeral and expressed your apologies for the loss— his eyebrows furrowing at your shorter form, but never quite looking at you.

younger you knew it was the protection that will be granted, and never the love you wanted, but you still held on to that flicker of hope that somehow, someday you'll eventually form an amicable bond with your soon-to-be husband.

yet to you, he was the only ticket way out of your abusive home life, one filled with not only coldness, but sharp glares from a mother who never wanted you and painful beatings from a father who criticizes his own child's every mistake, each hit more painful than the last.

as much as you desire something more homely from your soon to be husband, you've long since accepted that your life will never be filled with visceral love that eats you up, love whose hands tangle upon your hair not out of sheer hatred but desire, love whose strong arms raise you up in the air rather than raises itself up to hit you.

and as you both prepare for your wedding, an air of awkwardness and discomfort was expected. backs turned, never facing each other, your eyes never quite looking at his, and unwanted brushes of each other's bodies bumping into each other translates itself to tension and mere desire to get over the plans just as quickly.

bruce tells himself, it will all be over soon. this is necessary to keep up facades and earn more connections. he hasn't been as close with childhood friends after his parents' death, hence why he was too ruffled to properly communicate with his partner after years of isolation from peers. he knows you know to understand that fact.

you tell yourself that as much as your heart aches at the impending doom that you wouldn't be able to spend time with your husband as much after the entire fiasco of dealing with wedding arrangements, with wayne enterprises and hundreds of other duties to fulfill— you've nothing to do but embrace that mere fact.

so it was all that.

bruce will never love you as much as you force yourself to love each and every flawed part of him. the first steps of planning your marriage already reflected what would soon be the damning years of a loveless courtship.

love is painful, loving bruce will be painful. your heart will never flutter at the meaningless bouquet of flowers he'd gift you, or jewelry that was never your preference, all because you both knew it was a necessary farce to make things prettier on the outside. bruce can never learn to love again after the heartbreak of losing two of his loved ones.

all that.

yet the longer you two spend time in the same room in stuffy outfit fittings and bakeries whose warmth both your loves you thought would never quite reach— the more bruce notices the slight quirk of your lips every time he guessed your favorite color or design, the gleam in your eyes glowing brighter at him choosing what he thought would be the perfect confectionaries for reception, and the tiny claps and soft tugs at the cuffs of his sleeve the more he chooses to accommodate each and every preference of yours.

he starts to fall, not out of hindsight. he was never an obvious man, no.

but he fell in love, either way.

with your habits, the way your hands gesture your excitement, and the shy grin you show his way whenever he pursues physical affection to you in both private and public; with you melting into his once stiff chest and ridged shoulders, hands wrapped around your waist, head slowly nuzzling into the crown of your hair. sometimes he'd be brave enough to caress your hips and run his fingers through the flesh between your neck and shoulders.

every damn time he takes a newer risk, every time, you'd be left shocked, yet never pushing away at his ministration.

a surprise that rewires your perception of him in your mind— not less pleasant nonetheless.

he falls in love whenever his heart beats faster— a feeling he thought he'd never come across after years of hardened training— at the way you buzz every time he proposes you two go out on dates, at your unheard gasps whenever he actually gives you bouquets of your favorite flowers as gifts, at your incoherent mumbles as you two walk through the farmer's market with his body shielding you from stalking paparazzi's and countless of admires; your mouth forming words, brows furrowed, oblivious at bruce's unwavering gaze and arms ready to rest upon your shoulders as if he never once hesitated to touch you.

and he soon realizes that he begins to yearn sleeping in the same room as you. you still stay at your home at the time being, only to be housed at his right after your marriage— but bruce loses sleep all the same. at thoughts of what you would feel like all pressed up against him, the warmth that emanates off your body every time your arms would explore his chest, and how he'd wake up to your wide, intoxicating smile, calling him, bruce wayne, your husband as you caress him and tell him breakfast is ready.

he could picture you sitting beside him, your arms unknowingly on his thighs because you crave physical affection, your attention on both your children, chattering with them as if you were always their parent. he sees you scolding damian for sneaking food under the table for his, telling jason and tim off for arguing yet again, whilst dick laughs at his brother's clumsy way of eating with barbara rebuking his statements. you'll always be the first person cass would talk to about her ballet recitals, the one duke chides for advice about which club to choose, and steph's first choice every time she stumbles upon drama.

the entire atmosphere would be spontaneous. there could be small fights, little debates and sometimes even tension, yet they listen to you nevertheless. at your pretty voice giving them an earful altogether whilst bruce would worship you with his hungry eyes, forgetting the breakfast on his plate just to hold himself back from the urge to pepper kisses on you in front of the family.

the perfect dream, like a gomez to his morticia who admires every side of them. their beauty, their sadness, anger and flaws. you complete him, he only realizes at such a late time.

just as quick as he imagines those fantasies, bruce would find himself stalking through the confines of your family home as batman; confirming to himself your breathing patterns, the flutter of your eyes, soft mumbles, and your tight hold on one of your pillows, wishing it was him instead. there, he takes in the state of your room: the decor, your wallpapers, each and every trinkets and hobbies you've collected all over the years; and most importantly, just how small and confined your room is, yet cozy at the same time.

the manor would be your castle soon enough, and he promises that it would feel as homely as your previous room. he promises that you wouldn't be sleeping alone eventually. you'll be so loved... so cared for. he'll learn to properly love you, how to touch you in all the ways he could imagine, to kiss parts left neglected, to satiate the hunger watching you every damn time.

every night, he gains newer information about you as you sleep oblivious to the presence looming above you. every night, he notes the texture of your bedsheet, the blankets that hug at your body tightly, the pillows you drool on and the softness of your mattress.

he'd ruffle your hair, and begin to trudge closer and closer to you, to the point his confidence would be at an all time high and he'd be breathing the same pattern as you, body nearly pressed atop yours as his hands tangle itself upon your messy hair. bruce watches your skin bathe in the moonlight's glow, he admires the slow rise and fall of your chest and the delicious peaks of skin from the fabric that threatens to fall.

his desire only grows stronger, his willpower grows weaker all the same.

and at a time of momentary weakness, at the passion that drips off his body merely watching you, at the unsated hunger and moments of restricting himself from touching you too much during your times together— he kisses you while still sleeping, deeply and unregretful at his choice. devouring your lips, wishing he could instead feel his tongue pressing against yours, and licking at the drool that escapes from his relentless kisses. his hands would be on either side of your head, but his thighs pin your waist, heavy and unrelenting on moving from its position.

when he lets go, he laps at his lips for any remaining taste of you, hardwiring the memory into the deepest, most sinful parts of his brain, and admires your beauty from up close. bruce watches just how angelic you look sprawled atop a bed that soon would be big enough to fit two, he sees the smile slowly forming on your face, and the giggles that erupt all while you still remain asleep.

you must've been dreaming something pleasant. he hopes that it is him, he hopes that it would be him lavishing you in his love.

and he'll be coming back home right after pecking your lips and cheeks one last time, before leaving your room, to sleep in his bed all alone after a night of a passionate endeavor. he'll be dreaming of a night with you, every night with you in fact. of your pleasured closed-eyed smile in bed and arms that reach to wrap around his body like you do your pillows. he'll cover you like a blanket with his warmth, too.

and you'll always be in his mind, even as he wakes up every morning after another day of sleepless patrol, without you by his side, without your body pressed tightly against his, without the feeling of your plush skin on his scarred one, or the melody of your snores and flutter of your eyes at the light that hits it; bruce would never be satisfied.

in fact, he begins to crave for more as he touches his lips, remembers how easily pinned you are, how fitting your body is wrapped around his. he realizes that mere fantasies would only serve as distractions, he realizes that he needs the real thing.

soon, he'll invite you to the manor, all in his own accord, without hesitation or implications that it was all for mere planning.

there you would be, shy and modestly greeting his children. bruce notices the way your finger shivers, and the barely concealed smile that makes it way to your face when you finally meet your soon-to-be family, your soon-to-be children.

unaware, oblivious to the night he took your first-kiss. he knows it is your first kiss, you've written it in a journal of yours that you're saving it for whoever is your future husband— it's only right that he prides himself in the fact that he is your fiance.

he notices how well you fit in the manor, how you're such a perfect match to the neverending energy of adrenaline to fight and to patrol, acting as a mediator, a peacemaker to the hustle and bustle of spontaneous fights and arguments that alfred used to deal with alone. and his children—?

god, his children love you.

after first impressions, after you spend time coddling beside your fiance, talking to each and every one of them with a fond smile; acting as if they're all already your children without any second thoughts, never forcing yourself into their lives or invading private topics or inside jokes like the other suitors interested in bruce who visited; after you leave the manor despite their insistence that you stay—

all of them took it in their hands to help you both prepare for the wedding arrangements; damian made a comment to push for the wedding date to be way earlier. dick says he'd be in charge of the music, steph butts in saying she knows how to play the piano, cass opens up about performing a ballet piece during the wedding, duke suggests alfred should be handling the food, barbara says she has connections with entertainment factions, tim states matterof fact that he will be organizing the entire schedule, even jason insists on attending, just simply disguised amongst the background.

it would've been a marriage where it's only your side of the family who attend, an agreement you both settled for in the earlier stages of planning, but...

if the family loves you so much at just a first impression then...

bruce wayne loves his spouse even more.

and you, being the hopeless romantic you ever are, craving intimacy at such a young age from the lack of it, took the bait and fell into his controlling hold when you've still had the chance to back out.

after all, what is love without sacrifices?

soon enough, what once were lingering, unsure touches would be bruce holding you tightly against his chest like you two were puzzle pieces fit perfectly together. he was never the type to compliment through words, but every time you wear your favorite shade or those that matches his suit colors every time you both go out for outings, his bright blue, yet dull eyes would glimmer in the sunlight, taking in your entire form. he'll kiss you for what feels longer than half a minute, and sometimes even pin you down against the mahogany door of the office if it meant he was that pleased.

you love the attention, you bask at just how easy it is to love his children. even if their personalities contrast, even through the fights they sometimes have in front of you; none ever lash out at you for breaking it up, even the youngest, damian, who would always be the most violent amongst the siblings.

hell, he'd always be the most possessive, the most demanding of your attention for whenever you stray too close to his other siblings. always glaring, always picking up fights and insulting everyone, but never directing anything at you, even threatening to bite those who dare touch any gifts you give him.

yet you love them, either way, and you've come to love bruce, too. at the most unexpected of times, even. you love it when his touches linger a bit longer, you buzz with joy every time he'd hide your face from paparazzi and hold you tighter, never once letting a hand stray far away from your body, always having you in his arms just like how your perfect fantasies would always play in your head.

and even if you're still unaware of bruce's identity of being batman, the same hero you used to fear, you still insist on kissing bruce's scars that he always comes home with every night after patrol. you let yourself become a treasure he worships, you allow him to kiss you, defile you, and never once let you out alone anymore— your occasional manor visits before your marriage turned into countless of nights spent under a roof with people you thought you'd never be... that closely intimate with.

it is only before the wedding bell rings that bruce falls in love with you, and it would soon be after that you realize just how trapped you truly are.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: after this, i will return to hibernation. and if anybody asks, yes, superman wanting to smash you in this au is still canon. and yes, he will find a way to persuade you in smashing him.

taglist: @donnaaurelia, @prince-nikko, @neerathebrightstar (i hope u like this :))), @mr-celestial-writings, @glasscurrents, @sh4rk-k1d, @vellichor-and-hiraeth, @sammytheotakunerd.

[fangdokja]

Some truths are better left buried.

❤︎ Synopsis. A charming façade hides a mind unraveling, as jealousy sinks its claws into a man obsessed with the untouchable "Ice Queen," her mysterious past igniting a sinister need to claim what was never his to own.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Friction & Fire - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 7,753

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con + manipulation, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

The office was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The morning sun bled through the blinds in fractured slivers, painting your desk in a dull, sterile glow. You sat across from him, your shoulders squared, your focus unyielding as you combed through line after line of data.

And yet, despite the quiet, he could feel the tension lingering between you like a living thing.

It was still on his mind.

He wasn’t the type to fixate—hell, he prided himself on letting things roll off his back—but this? The thought of your first kiss, of the strange, detached way you spoke about it last night, had lodged itself in his brain like a splinter.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg lazily draped over the other as he watched you with sharp, predatory focus. On the surface, he looked relaxed, his usual cocky nonchalance on full display. But beneath it, his mind was a storm.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife, “last night got me thinking.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. Your fingers danced across the keys, swift and precise, as though you hadn’t heard him at all.

He smiled, leaning forward just enough to rest his elbows on the table. “For someone who’s so good at everything, you sure don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”

Still, you gave him nothing. Not a word. Not a glance.

He didn’t let it deter him. If anything, your silence only spurred him on.

“So, first kiss,” he said, his tone as light as a feather, casual enough to sound innocent. “When was it? And don’t give me that ‘transaction’ excuse. I want details.”

Your fingers paused for half a second—so brief it was barely noticeable—but it was enough to make his grin widen.

“I’m working,” you said flatly, your voice like steel.

“And I’m curious,” he shot back smoothly, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “Come on, indulge me a little. Was it some rich heir your parents set you up with? Or…” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Was it someone you actually liked?”

You exhaled slowly, your gaze still fixed on your screen. “Drop it.”

“Oh, I would,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more insidious tone. “But it’s kind of hard to stop wondering when you’re so damn mysterious about everything. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for state secrets here. Just a name. Or a story. Something.”

Your fingers hit the keys a little harder now, your movements growing sharper, but you still refused to look at him.

He leaned back again, tapping his pen idly against the table, his expression deceptively calm. “Okay, fine. Let’s broaden the topic. Ever had any other boyfriends? Or am I the only one lucky enough to deal with your charming personality?”

The sarcasm in his tone was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to mask the strange, simmering edge beneath it.

“Work,” you said simply, not bothering to look at him.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” He leaned forward again, his voice growing louder, though his grin remained firmly in place. “You’re like a damn iron wall. It’s impressive, really. But also kind of annoying.”

You finally paused, your hands hovering above the keyboard as you turned to meet his gaze. Your expression was calm, cold, and utterly unreadable. “If I don’t answer,” you said, your voice low and measured, “will you stop asking?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his grin widening into something wolfish.

You sighed, turning back to your screen. “Then keep asking. It won’t change anything.”

He let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there now, something darker and more insistent, coiling tightly in his chest.

He didn’t know why this mattered so much. Why the thought of someone else—someone before him—made his jaw clench and his stomach churn. But the idea wouldn’t let him go.

“Fair enough,” he said finally, his voice dropping into a softer, almost dangerous tone. “But don’t think I’m letting this go. Sooner or later, princess, I’ll get you to crack.”

Your silence was answer enough. But the faint flicker of annoyance in your eyes as you typed? That was all the encouragement he needed.

———

The late afternoon sun filtered through the office windows, casting long, golden streaks across the sterile desks. Papers and coffee cups littered the space, evidence of a day stretched too long. You sat at your desk, immersed in another report, your brow furrowed in concentration. The tension that had gripped you for days had finally loosened, and though your posture remained rigid, there was an air of calm about you now.

It was a calm he intended to disrupt.

He stretched lazily from his chair, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over to your side. His steps were slow, deliberate, the kind of gait that was both casual and predatory. Leaning down just slightly, he peered over your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck.

"Still working, huh? You're really setting a new standard for the term 'workaholic.' Should I be worried you're cheating on me with a spreadsheet?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it.

You didn’t even glance his way. "Your jokes are terrible."

"Terrible? Wow, you wound me," he said, clutching at his chest as if your words had pierced his heart. But his grin didn’t waver. Instead, he slid closer, resting a hand casually on the back of your chair. "Seriously, though. You’re in a much better mood now. My charm’s working, isn’t it?"

"Or maybe I’m just ignoring you," you replied dryly, typing without pause.

He chuckled, his laughter rich and low. "Ignoring me? Oh, sweetheart, if you were ignoring me, you wouldn’t have responded at all."

You sighed, still refusing to meet his gaze. He watched you intently, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, the subtle movements of your lips as you murmured something under your breath. For a moment, he was silent, caught in the strange, unfamiliar pull of wanting to touch you—not for show, not as part of this ridiculous transactional arrangement, but because he wanted to feel the solidity of you beneath his hands.

So, he acted.

Before you could react, his arms were around you, pulling you into a firm, almost possessive embrace. He buried his face against your hair, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture that was disarmingly tender.

You stiffened but didn’t pull away. Not yet.

"Not in public," you said flatly, your tone devoid of emotion.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We’re in an office. No one’s here but us. Doesn’t count."

You sighed, finally turning your head just enough to give him a withering look. "Still. Stop."

"Stop what?" he teased, his grin widening. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to your cheek in a playful kiss, lingering just enough to make your expression harden. "I’m just fulfilling my boyfriend duties. What, you don’t want me to be affectionate?"

"This isn’t affection. It’s a distraction," you retorted, your voice sharp but your body strangely still in his hold.

"Oh, so you do know what affection is. I was beginning to think you were allergic to it," he quipped, his arms tightening slightly as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

His gaze drifted down to your lips again, unbidden memories of last night creeping into his mind. The way you’d slapped him, the way you’d rubbed at your mouth as if scrubbing him off—it had stung. More than he wanted to admit. And then you’d dropped that bomb about it not being your first kiss. That knowledge sat heavy in his chest now, simmering with something dark and ugly.

Jealousy.

He hated the word, hated the feeling even more. But there it was, coiled tight around his thoughts, tainting everything.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "You never did tell me about your first kiss."

"Drop it," you said firmly, shifting in his hold.

"Come on," he pressed, his tone still light but his grip on you unyielding. "It’s not like I’m going to judge. I’m just… curious."

"I said drop it." This time, your voice had an edge to it, and you finally moved to shrug him off.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression carefully masked with that infuriating grin. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

You narrowed your eyes at him but said nothing, turning back to your work.

Still, his hands lingered, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that felt deliberate. He smiled to himself, his mind churning with thoughts he didn’t want to dissect too closely.

Transactional or not, he was still your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. The only one you had now.

And that? That was enough. For now.

────────────

The garage hummed with a low din: the scrape of pool cues against felt, the occasional clink of beer bottles, and the raucous laughter of his friends echoing off the cement walls. The air reeked of oil, sweat, and cheap cologne, a heady cocktail that somehow felt like home. He leaned against the pool table, a cue stick balanced lazily in one hand as his gaze drifted—unfocused, distant, and entirely unlike him.

“You good, man?” One of the guys leaned in, squinting at him. “You’ve been off all night. Usually, you’re the one running your mouth the loudest. What gives?”

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and a lazy grin slid across his face. “What? I’m just letting you losers have your moment. Can’t have me wiping the floor with you every game.”

The group laughed, though the scrutiny didn’t ease. Someone else chimed in, gesturing toward him with a beer bottle. “Nah, nah, there’s something going on. You’ve been staring off into space like you’re in some indie movie montage. What’s eating you?”

He rolled his eyes, straightening up and spinning the cue stick in his hand. “Nothing’s eating me. You guys are just too boring to hold my attention.”

The teasing jabs came quick after that, each more ridiculous than the last. “Oh, I know what it is,” one of the guys said, smirking. “It’s that ice queen of his. What’s her name again? Miss ‘I’m too good for this world’?”

A chorus of laughter erupted, and he smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You mean my girlfriend?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, you wish you could land someone like her. Don’t be jealous just ’cause I’ve got taste.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Another guy leaned in, grinning. “Man, you’ve never been serious about anyone in your life. What’s the deal? She finally melt that big ‘I don’t care about anything’ heart of yours?”

He snorted, the sound sharp and dismissive. “As if. It’s a transactional thing, remember? Don’t go reading any Nicholas Sparks nonsense into it.” He paused, spinning the cue stick once more before adding, almost offhandedly, “Though she did mention something interesting.”

That got their attention. “Oh?” one of them said, his tone dripping with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“She’s got a past,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “Romantic history or whatever.”

There was a beat of stunned silence before the room erupted into laughter again.

“Her? No way!” one of them wheezed, slapping his knee. “You’re telling me the Ice Queen actually let someone get close to her? Hell, I thought she’d freeze anyone who tried.”

“Right? She barely tolerates him,” another joked, pointing at him with a pool cue. “And he’s the boyfriend! Can you imagine anyone else even standing a chance?”

He shrugged, the grin on his face sharp and self-assured, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “Hey, I’m just as shocked as you guys. But yeah, apparently she’s kissed someone before. Wild, right?”

“Pfft, no way,” someone scoffed. “She’s probably messing with you. Bet she said it just to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, no offense, but she doesn’t exactly scream ‘romantic whirlwind.’ What, did she date a robot?”

The laughter rolled on, but he didn’t join in. Instead, he leaned back against the pool table, his grip tightening on the cue stick. He kept his expression light, easygoing, but inside, something coiled tighter and tighter, a venomous knot of jealousy and something he couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe she did,” he said finally, his voice smooth but edged with something razor-thin. “Or maybe she just has good taste and doesn’t fall for losers like you.”

The guys hooted and hollered, taking his words as another well-timed joke, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, his mind lingered on the thought of her—her cool, distant demeanor, the way she brushed him off like he was nothing. And yet… someone else had touched her first.

The idea churned in his gut, hot and nauseating.

Transactional or not, she was his now. Wasn’t she?

———

The laughter around him ebbed and flowed, but it barely registered. He leaned against the edge of the pool table, staring blankly at the neon beer sign on the wall. The buzz of their voices blurred into a distant hum, and his mind gnawed at the frayed edges of the conversation like a dog with a bone.

“Yo, you’re spacing out again,” one of the guys said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “What’s the deal, man? You look like someone ran over your dog.”

He smirked, forcing himself back into the moment. “Please, like I’d ever let that happen. You guys know me—cool as a cucumber.”

“Cucumber, my ass,” someone quipped. “You’ve been weird ever since you brought up her romantic history. What’s the matter, hotshot? Jealous someone else got to her first?”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jealous? Him? Of course not. He was the picture of casual detachment, the poster boy for not giving a damn. It wasn’t like they were in love. The relationship was an agreement, a mutually beneficial arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to be messy. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did.

“Jealous? Me?” He barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp. “C’mon, you think I care about some guy who’s probably ancient history? If anything, I’m curious. What kind of guy would even catch her eye? She’s not exactly handing out free passes.”

“Curious, huh?” One of the guys grinned, leaning against his pool cue. “Sure, let’s call it that. I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever been the possessive type.”

The comment was met with a wave of snickers, and he rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Exactly. I’m chill. Relaxed. Totally unbothered.” He emphasized the last word, slapping the pool table for effect, but the laughter around him only grew louder.

“Yeah, sure you are,” another guy chimed in, taking a swig from his beer. “That’s why you’ve been stewing over this for, what, ten minutes now?”

He forced another laugh, but inside, the knot in his chest tightened. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t like him. He’d had plenty of relationships—flings, hookups, even a couple that could loosely be called serious—and he’d never felt like this. Never felt this gnawing, restless ache that made him want to punch a wall and pull her closer at the same time.

It wasn’t even logical. So what if she’d had someone before him? It wasn’t like he owned her. She was her own person, icy and untouchable as she was. And yet…

And yet.

The image of her brushing off his kiss the night before crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The way she’d wiped her sleeve across her mouth, the way her voice had been sharp, cutting, when she’d told him it wasn’t her first kiss.

The thought burned.

He clenched his jaw, spinning his pool cue in his hands like a restless fidget. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t the possessive type. He was laid-back, easygoing, always ready with a joke or a grin. That was who he was. That was what made him so good at this kind of thing.

So why did the thought of her with someone else make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams?

“Alright, spill it,” one of the guys said, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “Who was it, huh? Some prince charming? Some straight-laced business major who knows how to schmooze parents?”

He scoffed, the sound automatic. “Please. Like I’d even know. She didn’t exactly give me a play-by-play.”

“Bet it was some boring, pencil-pushing nerd,” another guy chimed in. “She seems like the type to go for someone... predictable.”

Predictable. The word grated against his nerves. Predictable wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Their relationship, transactional as it was, wasn’t supposed to fit into neat little boxes. It was supposed to be different.

He was supposed to be different.

But here he was, sitting in a dingy garage with his friends, trying to rationalize the irrational. Trying to figure out why he cared so much about a past that wasn’t supposed to matter.

“You guys are way off,” he said finally, his tone light but his grip on the cue stick betraying him. “If she did have someone before me, they weren’t memorable. She’s with me now, isn’t she? That’s all that counts.”

“Spoken like a true charmer,” one of them teased, and he smirked, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Yeah, she was with him now. That was all that mattered.

So why didn’t it feel like enough?

———

The ribbing didn’t stop. If anything, it picked up speed like a train without brakes, and he was tied to the tracks.

“You’re really off your game tonight, man,” one of them said, chalking the tip of his cue stick. “You keep spacing out, missing shots, and letting us win? That’s not you. You’re usually the one handing us our asses.”

Another chimed in, leaning against the edge of the table with a sly grin. “Seriously, you’ve got this whole garage thinking. Is the great charmer finally losing his touch? That what’s bugging you?”

He twirled his cue with exaggerated nonchalance, plastering a smirk across his face even as his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles. “Please. Like I’d ever lose my touch. I could charm the rust off a bolt if I wanted to. I’m just... keeping things interesting. Letting you guys feel like you’ve got a shot for once.”

The laughter was immediate, loud, and thoroughly unconvinced. One of them even doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, right. You’ve been distracted all night. And don’t think we didn’t catch the little bombshell you dropped earlier. The Ice Queen has a romantic history?”

“Shocking, right?” another piped up, voice dripping with mock astonishment. “I mean, no offense, but she doesn’t seem like the type to go for you. Or anyone, really.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t interrupt, knowing that trying to stop them would only make it worse. He’d been here before—well, not exactly here, but close enough to know the best way out was to wait until they got bored.

Too bad that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“I mean, think about it,” one of them continued, his tone growing more amused by the second. “She’s this cold, untouchable, straight-laced type. Always looks like she’s got a stick up her—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his tone light but the edge unmistakable. The shift in the air was subtle but palpable, like the faint scent of ozone before a storm.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad. I was just saying—she’s not exactly your usual type. And you’re definitely not hers.”

“Yeah,” another added with a smirk. “She probably goes for, like, bookworm types. You know, the quiet, nerdy guys who read poetry and bring her tea while she’s working. The ones who wouldn’t dare try anything until they’ve written a formal letter asking for permission.”

That earned a round of chuckles, and his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. Not that anyone else noticed—they were too busy piling on.

“Yeah, man, face it. You’re too loud, too flashy. She probably thinks you’re just a walking ego trip. All charm, no substance.”

“Exactly,” someone else added. “It’s probably why your charm doesn’t work on her. She’s immune. Bet she’s only with you because it’s convenient or something.”

The words hit harder than they should have, slipping under his skin and sticking there like splinters. He forced out a laugh, sharp and just a little too loud. “Convenient? Yeah, right. She’s lucky to have me. I’m the full package: brains, brawn, and a personality that makes life interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” another guy said, raising an eyebrow. “Or annoying? Pretty sure those are interchangeable in your case.”

“Hey, she hasn’t dumped me yet,” he shot back, deflecting with practiced ease. “That’s gotta count for something.”

But even as he spoke, the words rang hollow. His usual bravado felt like a thin shell, barely holding together under the weight of something he didn’t want to name. Something ugly, and burning, and clawing at the edges of his chest.

Jealousy.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. But the idea of her with some quiet, bookish type—the kind of guy who might actually understand her silences and match her calm, reclusive nature—was like sandpaper against his nerves.

And worse, the idea that she might prefer someone like that...

He clenched his jaw, his smirk freezing into something sharper.

“You know,” one of them said, breaking into his thoughts, “it’s kinda funny. For all your talk, you’re acting a lot like a guy who’s got something to prove. Like you actually care what she thinks.”

“I don’t,” he lied smoothly, his voice as light as air. “Why would I? It’s not like this is anything serious.”

The words tasted bitter, but he swallowed them down, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Whatever you say, man,” someone said, shaking their head. “But you might want to figure it out before she realizes you’re not as cool as you think you are.”

The garage erupted into laughter again, and he joined in, the sound loud and hollow.

But later, when he was alone, the laughter would fade, leaving only the burning question that wouldn’t let him rest:

Why did it matter so damn much?

────────────

The stars above the city burned cold, distant, and sharp as needles. The private balcony was far enough from the glittering chaos of the gala to offer a semblance of quiet, though the muffled hum of music and laughter still seeped through the glass doors. The cold air bit at your skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the crowd.

He leaned against the balustrade, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers, the liquid untouched and shimmering like pale gold in the faint light. His tailored suit clung to his frame, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes betrayed him—glinting with something predatory, something calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth and edged with a teasing lilt. “I was thinking.”

You didn’t bother to turn from the view of the sprawling city below. “That’s dangerous.”

He chuckled, soft and low, but there was a weight to it that made your spine stiffen. He tilted his head, watching you like a hawk sizing up its prey. “Funny. No, really, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Us,” you echoed flatly. “The contract is clear. There’s nothing to think about.”

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the railing and stepping closer. His presence was like a shadow swallowing light, oppressive and impossible to ignore. “But I’ve been reviewing it, and I think we’ve overlooked some... fine print.”

“Fine print,” you repeated, finally turning to face him, your expression impassive. “There is no fine print. You drafted it yourself, remember?”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Which means I have the right to amend it if I see fit. And I’ve noticed a few areas that could use... adjustment.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze narrowing. “Such as?”

He stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the crisp night air. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undercurrent of something darker, something that coiled around his words like smoke.

“For one,” he began, “I think we need to establish clearer boundaries about third-party interactions. You know, to avoid misunderstandings.”

Your brow twitched. “There haven’t been any misunderstandings.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, his voice soft and coaxing, like a blade hidden in velvet. “But let’s be proactive. For instance, we should clarify what kind of behavior is acceptable when interacting with... other men.”

You stared at him, your expression as unyielding as stone. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Is it?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You don’t think it’s wise to define expectations? After all, appearances are everything. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”

“People already know what this is,” you said coolly. “A performance. There’s no need to complicate it.”

“But isn’t the whole point of a performance to make it convincing?” he asked, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “And for that, we need consistency. Unity. Which is why I propose we add a clause about exclusive proximity.”

“Exclusive proximity,” you echoed, your voice flat. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head. “Think about it. If we’re seen with too many... distractions, it undermines the whole charade. It’s just common sense.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he was already pressing on, his words smooth and relentless.

———

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you, the kind of silence that carried a weight far heavier than sound. He leaned closer, bracing himself against the railing with the kind of ease that betrayed the sharpness lurking beneath his carefully curated mask of charm. The city glittered below, but its brilliance felt muted compared to the fire smoldering in his gaze.

“Let me break it down,” he said, his voice silken, the edges just sharp enough to catch. “Exclusivity isn’t just about proximity. It’s about cohesion. A story without holes. Every moment you’re with someone else—a colleague, a stranger, hell, even a waiter—it opens a crack in the facade.”

Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing. “You’re reaching.”

He smiled—a wolfish, predatory thing. “Am I? Think about it. Someone catches sight of you laughing with some random nobody, and suddenly, the gossip mill is running wild. The illusion cracks. We lose credibility. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s losing.”

The venomous certainty in his tone made your stomach twist, though your face remained unreadable. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

He straightened, his shadow looming over you as if it carried a weight beyond the physical. “Ground rules. For both of us. Simple ones. For example…” He tapped a finger against the champagne flute, the ring of the glass echoing faintly. “No private conversations with anyone of interest. No one-on-one meetings without prior notice. And no touching—intentional or otherwise—unless absolutely necessary.”

Your brow arched, your lips tightening. “No touching. That’s… excessive.”

“Is it?” he shot back smoothly, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “Think about it. Even the smallest gesture—a hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers—can be misconstrued. Especially when it’s you.” His gaze flickered, a flash of something unspoken. “People notice you. They watch. And they talk.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly against the balcony rail. “Fine. But if we’re establishing rules, they go both ways. You don’t exactly have a reputation for restraint.”

His grin widened, amusement flickering in the depths of his eyes. “Touché. Consider it mutual, then. No unnecessary interaction, no inappropriate proximity. Strictly business.”

“And why now?” you asked, your voice measured, almost detached. “Why bring this up tonight?”

For a moment, something flickered across his face—an almost imperceptible crack in the facade. But he recovered quickly, his grin sharpening. “Call it foresight. With the families involved, things get messier. More eyes, more pressure. We can’t afford to slip.”

You studied him, your silence stretching just long enough to make his fingers twitch against the railing. Finally, you inclined your head. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to keep this convincing, I’ll play along.”

He exhaled, a sound that was almost a laugh but carried none of the humor. “Good. I knew you’d see reason.” He lifted his champagne glass in a mock toast, the liquid catching the starlight like liquid fire. “To flawless performances.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the city below. The cold bit deeper now, but you didn’t shiver. Behind you, his gaze lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

The ground rules were set, the game clearly defined. But as the night pressed on, the sense of control he so carefully clung to felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

And it wasn’t the rules that haunted him—it was why he felt the need to create them in the first place.

———

He leaned casually against the railing, but his posture was deceptively loose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes betraying his calculated intent. The champagne glass in his hand caught the faint glow of the city below, though he hadn’t touched a drop.

“So,” he began, his tone laced with a playful edge, “while we’re ironing out the details, there’s another area I think we should revisit. Physical affection.”

Your eyes snapped to his, cold and narrowed. “What about it?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly as though considering his words carefully. “Let’s be honest. Right now, the way things are? We’re convincing, sure—but just barely. The hand-holding, the occasional arm around the waist? It’s surface-level. Anyone with half a brain can see through it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “It’s enough to maintain appearances without crossing unnecessary lines.”

His grin widened, but there was an almost imperceptible edge to it, a flicker of something darker in his expression. “Enough for who? The nosy old ladies at brunch? Sure. But for the vultures at this level? Not a chance. They smell weakness. And right now, what they see screams ‘contractual convenience,’ not passion. We need to up our game.”

You folded your arms across your chest, your stance unmoving. “Define ‘up our game.’”

“Well,” he said smoothly, setting the untouched glass on the railing, “kisses, for one. Not just the casual kind. Something real. Convincing. Hell, even a few heated moments in public wouldn’t hurt. And behind closed doors?” He gave a mock shrug, his grin turning teasing. “Who knows? Maybe even a little noise for the sake of appearances.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall from your skull. “You’re joking.”

“Am I?” he replied, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Think about it. The way things are now, people will start talking. Rumors of a weak marriage. Arranged out of convenience, not love. And with you being... well, you—” his gaze flicked over you, deliberate and lingering— “it won’t take long for people to start circling. People like to test boundaries when they think they can get away with it.”

“People already talk,” you shot back. “That’s inevitable. But none of this changes the fact that this is fake. I’m not pretending that far.”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin sharpening. “You’ve already agreed to exclusivity. This is just the logical next step.”

“It’s unnecessary,” you said flatly. “The exclusivity rules make sense. This? This is overreach.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost coaxing tone. “Is it, though? Think about it. If we don’t convince them, it undermines everything we’ve built. You don’t want to spend the rest of this arrangement fending off speculation and propositions, do you?”

“Speculation is manageable,” you said, your voice cool and steady. “And propositions are irrelevant. I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense. “But why should you have to? Why not just nip it in the bud? Make it clear to everyone that you’re untouchable.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your patience fraying. “I already am untouchable.”

His grin didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—jealousy, sharp and bitter. “Sure. But people don’t see that. What they see is opportunity. The kind that comes from a woman who’s too beautiful, too brilliant, and too unattainable for her own good.”

The words were teasing, but the way he said them made your skin prickle. There was something possessive lurking beneath the surface, something he tried to bury beneath layers of logic and charm but couldn’t entirely hide.

“This isn’t about logic,” you said, your voice steady but edged with steel. “It’s about control. And I’m not giving you that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin turning mischievous. “Touché. But hey, I’m just saying—when the rumors start flying and the vultures start circling, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You turned back to the city, dismissing him with a sharp glance. “Noted. But the answer is still no.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “Fair enough. For now.”

———

The cold of the night pressed against your skin, biting and relentless, but his body, wrapped tightly around yours, was an oppressive heat you couldn’t shake. The weight of his arms on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, his fingers grazing your arms with a possessive slowness. He leaned into you, his chest firm against your back, his breath warm and invasive against your ear.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone as smooth as the glassy city lights below, “this hesitation of yours—it’s fascinating. Almost charming, in its own way. But... I can’t help but wonder.” His voice dipped lower, a silken purr laced with something darker. “What’s got you so hesitant? People do this all the time, don’t they? Even when it doesn’t mean anything.”

You stiffened, your gaze locked on the sprawling cityscape, refusing to turn. Your neutrality was a fortress, built brick by brick to withstand his probing. But his persistence was a battering ram. Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head closer, inhaling deeply near the curve of your neck, the action intimate enough to send a shiver rippling through your body.

“Unless,” he mused, his lips curving into a smirk you couldn’t see but could feel like a knife at your throat, “it’s because of them. You know, the one who got that first kiss of yours. Was it them?”

The question hung in the air, venomous and cutting. For a fraction of a second, the apathy on your face cracked—a millisecond’s slip in the armor you wore so flawlessly. Your hand twitched, and your lips parted as though to respond, but no words came. Instead, your expression hardened once more, a glacial mask snapping back into place. Silent. Untouchable.

But he had seen it.

That brief, fleeting moment of vulnerability had told him more than you ever could. And though his smile remained, it was stretched too tight, his teeth bared in something that wasn’t amusement. His fingers dug into your shoulders, just a little too hard, before softening as if to mask the momentary lapse in control.

“Ah,” he said, the word slipping out in a low exhale, almost inaudible. He pressed closer, the air between you suffocating. “So it was them. That explains so much.”

His tone was still light, teasing, but the undercurrent of tension was unmistakable, coiling tighter and tighter beneath his practiced facade. His lips ghosted near your temple, the proximity a calculated weapon, and his fingers trailed down your arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

“You know,” he continued, his voice honeyed but sickly sweet, “whoever they were... they must have left quite the impression to make you this way. But I’m curious—did it mean anything to you? Or was it just... a moment?”

Your silence was deafening, a dagger plunged into the space between you.

He chuckled softly, though the sound was hollow. “Not that it matters, of course. You’re here now, with me. That’s all that really counts, isn’t it?”

But his grip tightened imperceptibly, his smile curving into something dangerous, something that betrayed the storm raging just beneath the surface. He didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on you became stronger, his presence more invasive.

And though he kept his composure, the truth was a venomous whisper in his mind, sinking its fangs deep and twisting.

Not fucking happy at all.

────────────

He didn't bring it up again. Any of it, anymore.

But, the room still felt colder than it should have. The air conditioning hummed low, but the chill that seeped into your skin wasn’t mechanical. It was the kind of cold that came from within, from the way your fingers gripped the edge of the desk too tightly, from the rigidity in your spine as you pretended not to notice the man leaning against the corner with the practiced ease of someone who could read you too well.

He’d been watching you for too long now, his gaze like a scalpel, peeling away layers you’d tried so hard to keep intact. He shifted, breaking the stillness with a deliberate, exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice carrying that maddeningly playful lilt, “if looks could kill, that desk would be in pieces by now. What’d it ever do to you, baby?”

You didn’t answer. Of course, you didn’t.

He moved closer, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sterile air. The sound of his footsteps was soft but deliberate, a hunter’s tread. “Still giving me the silent treatment? Harsh. I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my charming company.”

“Go away,” you said, your voice clipped, devoid of emotion. Your fingers tightened on the desk, a small tell he didn’t miss.

“Aw, come on,” he said, his grin audible in his voice. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to help. You know, as your incredibly dedicated, selfless boyfriend.” He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of your chair. “And let’s face it, I’m the only person who’d put up with you when you’re like this.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t look at him. It was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“Seriously,” he continued, his tone shifting to something softer but no less teasing. “What’s going on? You’re more wound up than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” you said, the words flat, a wall slamming down between you.

“Sure you are,” he said, circling around to lean on the desk beside you. He crossed his arms, his smirk unwavering. “You know, for someone so icy, you’re terrible at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper now.

“And I said I don’t believe you,” he shot back, his voice light but with an edge of persistence. “C’mon, Ice Queen. What’s eating at you? Work? Family? Or did someone finally dare to make eye contact for more than three seconds?”

You ignored him, your focus locked on the papers in front of you, but he wasn’t deterred. He crouched slightly, putting himself in your line of sight.

“Look, I get it,” he said, his tone almost mockingly serious. “You’re all about the whole ‘strong, independent, untouchable’ thing. Very admirable. But newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s that stoic all the time. Except maybe statues. And even they crack eventually.”

You pushed back from the desk abruptly, rising to your feet, but he didn’t give you space. Instead, he moved closer, his hand brushing your arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, huh?” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Not even a hint? A clue? C’mon, I’m dying here.”

You stiffened, stepping away, but he followed, his persistence like a shadow clinging to your every move. His hand caught yours this time, his grip firm but not forceful.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head with a smirk that was all sharp edges, “this whole ‘bottling it up’ thing you do? It’s kinda cute. Annoying, but cute. But it’s also not healthy. So spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” you snapped, finally turning to face him. Your eyes were cold, your voice even colder, but he wasn’t fazed.

“Liar,” he said simply, his grin widening. “You’re terrible at it, by the way. And you know I’m not going anywhere until you give me something.”

You glared at him, your jaw tightening, but he just leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your arm. “Is it work? Someone bothering you? Or—” His tone shifted, sly and teasing now. “Wait, don’t tell me. Is it me? Did I finally get under your skin?”

“Always,” you muttered, pulling your hand free and turning away.

He laughed, the sound warm but with a sharpness that didn’t quite match. “Good. Means I’m doing my job right. But seriously, baby girl, if someone’s bothering you—besides me, obviously—you’d tell me, right?”

You didn’t answer, and for a moment, the teasing dropped from his voice entirely. He straightened, his gaze darkening as he watched you retreat to the far side of the room.

“You don’t tell anyone anything, do you?” he said softly, almost to himself. The words weren’t a question; they were a statement, heavy with an emotion he refused to name.

You paused, your back to him, but didn’t turn.

“Fine,” he said after a moment, his usual bravado snapping back into place like armor. He grinned, stepping toward you again. “Keep your secrets. But just so you know, sweetheart, I’m very good at getting what I want. And you? You’re not as unreadable as you think.”

The way he said it—soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something darker—sent a shiver down your spine. But you didn’t respond, and he didn’t push further. Not yet.

────────────

The glow of his laptop bathed the dim room in cold, blue light. The muffled sounds of the city filtered through the cracked window—a distant hum of engines, the occasional wail of a siren. But none of it reached him. His focus was absolute, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard with a precision that bordered on surgical.

Lines of text blurred and refreshed, tabs multiplied, searches refined. It was nothing. It was nothing. Just... research. A precaution, really. Something any diligent professional would do in his field.

"Due diligence." The phrase rolled through his mind like a soothing mantra as he adjusted his search parameters. Business students did this all the time, didn’t they? Gathering information on potential clients, tracking leads. It wasn’t unethical—it was smart. Practical. Just like he was.

His brow furrowed as the screen refreshed again, yielding nothing new. No personal social media accounts. No tagged photos. Everything you had out there was airtight—pristine. Your LinkedIn was polished to perfection, clinical and devoid of any personal flair. Your work email was meticulously professional. No footprints, no cracks.

You were a fortress, an enigma wrapped in ice, and it was maddening.

"Not even a stupid Instagram," he muttered under his breath, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing a hand through his hair. His other hand hovered over the touchpad, fingers twitching with a restless energy he couldn’t quite contain. He hated how good you were at this, at keeping the world at arm's length. It was infuriating.

And yet, it only made him more determined.

Because how else was he supposed to help you? Protect you? It wasn’t like you’d talk to him, let alone open up. You were a steel door slammed shut, your apathy the lock, and your sharp, biting tongue the key he could never quite reach.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t stalking,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud could make it true. “This is... protecting my investment.”

He winced at the word. It felt wrong somehow, but logical. The contract between you two was the foundation of your relationship, after all. If you didn’t want to share your problems with him, fine—but he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. That wasn’t who he was.

“People research celebrities all the time,” he reasoned, his voice low and even, the rhythm of his own words calming. “Background checks, public records... It’s normal. It’s not like I’m invading her privacy. This is just... strategy.”

But even as he said it, a part of him bristled.

It wasn’t just strategy. And he knew it.

The truth was, it gnawed at him—the not knowing. The mystery of you was a drug he couldn’t quit, the unanswered questions keeping him awake at night. Who was the person who kissed you first? Why did your walls feel so much higher, so much thicker, lately? What the hell was going on in that brilliant, maddening head of yours?

He leaned forward again, fingers flying across the keyboard with renewed purpose. If he couldn’t ask you, he’d find out on his own. He told himself it wasn’t because he needed to know, wasn’t because the thought of anyone else touching you—or knowing you—made his stomach twist with something cold and acidic.

No, it wasn’t jealousy again. It was logic. Rationality.

But as the hours ticked by and the search grew colder, that logic began to crack.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen—one of the boys from the garage had sent a message, probably another joke about his “domestication.” He ignored it, returning his gaze to the screen.

Nothing. Again.

“Damn it,” he hissed, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. He sat back, running both hands through his hair, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

You were impossible. And that impossibility—it thrilled him. Infuriated him. Tore at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until he had answers.

Because protecting you wasn’t just part of the job anymore.

It was everything.

Yandere! Ex-Boyfriend & Cheating Bitch

Novella 1 : Friction & Fire

She wasn't looking for love, but love wasn't asking for permission.

Some truths are better left buried.

♡ A/N. Not me only realizing recently that this was a FINISHED work that I never posted. My drafts in Tumblr are a mess I tell you. It's like the various requests, fandoms, and works in general are mixing wahaha. YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE???? It's like I'm universe hopping in the multiverse, going to different fandoms and worlds to bring the content you all want. And, just like someone with multiple jobs and side hustles; if it's not recorded or arranged right, it gets lost to the void I tell you. wahhhhh

♡ Masterlist. If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

♡ Tag List. “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

SUGARDADDY!ANAKIN HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains extremely filthy sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort. Daddy kink, breast play, praise kink, reader is younger than anakin but she's also off the age! (which means i won't give her specific age, but she's definitely NOT a minor). Lightly relationship with benefits (at first)

Author's note: and he happened to be the rich CEO 🤭

Sugardaddy!Anakin who is at the restaurant for a high-stakes business meeting with some important clients. He’s there to close a deal, his mind fully focused on the negotiations, but the moment he spots you, his attention falters. You’re the one serving his table, and despite the chaos of the busy restaurant, he can’t take his eyes off you. Your charm, your smile, the way you carry yourself—it’s all incredibly enticing to him. He’s captivated by the way you interact with customers, maintaining grace under pressure. After the meeting, Anakin leaves an exorbitant tip, much larger than necessary. Along with it, there’s a business card with just his name and number, a subtle but unmistakable invitation for you to contact him.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who, after you muster the courage to text him, he invites you out for coffee, a subtle test to see if you’re interested. He’s direct but not pushy when he suggests an arrangement—offering financial support in exchange for your company. At first it surprises you, since it's uncommon for you to gain interest from older men..but, he was polite, very polite (you couldn't help but compare him to guys your age). Seemed like a true gentleman with specific needs you were suggested to fullfil

Sugardaddy!Anakin who makes it clear that he’s not interested in just a transactional relationship. He wants to spoil you, yes, but he also craves your genuine presence, your wit, and your warmth.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who made you sign NDA before any further actions. And after that, the first few dates involved extravagant dinners at the most exclusive restaurants, shopping trips where he insists you pick out anything you like, and even trips to luxurious resorts. He loves seeing you adorned in the finest things that his wealth can buy.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who, despite his powerful position, Anakin values privacy and keeps your relationship under wraps. He’s protective of you, not wanting the media or his corporate world to interfere.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who often sends his private driver to pick you up, whether it’s for a date or just to bring you to his penthouse after a long day. He makes sure you’re always comfortable and safe.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who has a soft spot for you that his colleagues would be shocked to see. He’s attentive to your needs, whether it’s something simple like remembering your favorite coffee order or something more intimate, like understanding when you need space or affection.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who is fiercely protective

Sugardaddy!Anakin who takes a genuine interest in your ambitions and goals. Whether you’re in school, pursuing a career, or exploring new hobbies, he’s there to support you—financially and emotionally. He offers advice, mentorship, and even opportunities within his vast business empire.

What starts as a sugar daddy arrangement quickly grows into something deeper. Anakin finds himself genuinely falling for you. The way you challenge him, care for him, and bring a sense of normalcy to his chaotic life makes you more than just a 'sugar baby'

Sugardaddy!Anakin who, the stoic CEO, surprises himself with how open he becomes with you. He shares his fears, his past, and his hopes for the future. You’re the only one who gets to see the man behind the powerful exterior.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who doesn't mind age gap although, when you're sometimes showing him something he has no idea what it is (like social media and stuff). So he's kind of a boomer..just a tiny bit..

Sugardaddy!Anakin who takes you on spontaneous trips to the most exotic destinations. Private jets, luxury yachts, and five-star hotels are the norm. He loves the idea of you experiencing the best life has to offer, especially when you’re together

Sugardaddy!Anakin who often works late into the night, but he makes time to talk to you before bed (sometimes it'd be a call but sometimes it'd be a small talk face-to-face);

He sighed as the door clicked shut behind him, the exhaustion of the day slipping through him as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Despite the fatigue, the thought of coming home to you brought a sense of peace. “How’s my favorite girl doing?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up after walking into the living room.

“I’m alright… just dying to get some sleep,” you murmured with soft voice.

A smile tugged at his lips as he took you in—curled up on the couch, wearing one of his oversized shirts that nearly swallowed you whole. The sight was enough to erase any lingering stress. “Poor girl,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Sorry I’m so late.”

“S’okay…” your eyes heavy with sleep.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, his arms slipping around your waist to lift you effortlessly. With your legs wrapped around his waist, your face snuggled to his shoulder z he couldn’t help but notice how precious and absolutely beautiful you looked, wrapped in his shirt, with no make-up on. It was a simple moment yet with you in his arms, nothing else mattered.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who is attentive and loves to make you feel special in every way. He’s dominant yet caring (so it makes him a soft dom), always ensuring your needs are met. So the intimacy between you two is intense;

you'd had sex almost daily over the last two months but you, nor him, would never initiated it in half-public before. It wasn't something you'd do, you were more of a private person however...the slight possibility that the driver could glance in the mirror and see you sent a strange thrill cursing down your stomach..

Well, you live once..

It wasn't your first time giving Anakin a blowjob, yet, you still couldn't fully get used to how big he was. How thick and long.

With your watery eyes, you whimpered, tasting the salty sweetness of him before swirling your tongue around his head. Slowly, softly at first, as if checking the territory, them you did it with more confidence, falling into the rhythm of just sucking, licking and bobbing till you were soaked

It shouldn't turn you on like it did. But yet, the feeling of his member filling your mouth, his large hand sank in your hair, his soft groans and whimpers made you twist yourself in pleasure.

Your eyes watery, your underwear wet, your nipples hard and this sensitive skin that burned with never ending fire for this man made you completely forgot how you got here, where you are or even where you're supposed to go

"That's right baby..take every inch like a good girl.." the words slipped through his lightly opened mouth in a moan

He grips your ass cheeks tightly, spreading them apart to get a better angle as he thrusts into you from behind. "Look at this ass, baby...so fucking perfect... gonna fucking own this ass..." He growls, his hands moving to slap your right cheek hard.

You were a mess; holding for dear life to the kitchen counter with nothing but moans leaving your mouth. Not even your eyes could stay open anymore, as they rolled or closed automatically in the feeling

He hisses through his teeth as he feels your squishy walls clench around him, gripping him tightly "That's it, baby...take it all...You're being such a good girl..." h his hands moved to grip your hips tightly as he continues to thrust with more intensity, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the kitchen.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who loves having you ride him;

His fingers dug into your hips, encouraging you to set a faster pace as his own hips lifted to meet yours, the two of you falling into a rhythm. "just like that, baby...you look so good on top of me"

"yeah?" You whimper out, feeling like going crazy with his member deep inside you

His hands slide up your waist to your breasts, cupping them gently as he praises you. "Definitely..riding me like a real cowgirl.."

your mouth opened to let a moan escape your lips and, to feel more, you sped up a little bit

He grins wickedly up at you, his hips bucking upwards to meet yours while he toys with your peaks "You like that, baby? Like daddy playing with your pretty little toys?"

"love it" your mouth lightly opened in pleasure

"Good girl...gosh..could stay buried inside of you forever." Anakin lets out a groan, his eyes rolling back as the feeling of you sinking down onto him once more and it suddenly gets too much to bear. "Fuck, baby...you feel so good...such an eager girl to please me..keep that pace, baby...want to watch you fall apart on top of me"

Sugardaddy!Anakin who loves when you visit him at the office, especially after hours when most of his employees went home

Sugardaddy!Anakin who even if makes love to you a bit roughly sometimes, he can for sure be very gentle;

He slowly enters you, his touch gentle as he cups your face tenderly. "gonna go nice and slow, alright?" He whispers softly, his hips moving in a gentle rhythm. "if you wanna stop just say the word.."

"okay" you whimper

He enters you inch by inch, his touch gentle as he kisses you passionately. "You're so tight, baby...feels so good..." his pace slow and gentle. He leans down and kisses you slowly as if you were a ceramic doll he was scared to break "my beautiful girl.. doing so good for me"

your warmth enveloped his senses and it only made him more crazy for you. You just seemed so perfect to him. Even your flaws were something he deeply cherished, found captivating, irresistible

"you okay, baby?" He whispers softly, his voice laced with autonomical concern. "wanna go slower?"

"yes, please" you whisper-moan

He slows down even more, his movements almost imperceptible as he carefully makes love to you. "there we go...so slow and gentle...just for you, baby..." He leans down to kiss your neck softly, his breath warm against your skin. "love you so much, you know? Gosh, could do anything for you.. you have me wrapped around your finger.."

Sugardaddy!Anakin who has a particular obsession with lingerie. He frequently buys you the most luxurious pieces—silk, lace, and satin—in colors he knows you look stunning in. Seeing you dressed up in something he chose just for you ignites a fire in him, and he loves taking his time to remove each piece, savoring the reveal of your body

Sugardaddy!Anakin who has a possessive streak, and it shows in how he wants to leave marks on you—not just hickeys, but subtle reminders that you belong to him. He’ll trace his fingers over the marks later, a satisfied smirk on his face as he sees the evidence of your passion..but stil..;

He was laying on his side with his arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if you might slip away in the night. You were slowly drifting off to sleep, in comparison to anakin, whose sleep eluded him. He lay there quietly, his eyes tracing the familiar curves of your body in the darkness, as if rediscovering them for the first time.

His gaze lingered on the spots where his touches had left their mark. Faint hickeys dotted your upper thighs and hips, and a few more adorned your neck and collarbone. He couldn’t help but admire the evidence of his desire for you, the way he’d claimed your body as his own. The possessive satisfaction he felt was undeniable, yet there was also a tender need to ensure that his passion hadn’t caused you any pain.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

"No... I'm fine," you murmured half-asleep

"You sure?" His fingers brushed over one of the darker marks, tracing gentle circles on the sensitive skin of your hip.

"Mhm... it's nothing serious"

He hummed in acknowledgment, though the worry still lingered. He couldn't shake the need to make sure you were truly okay. His hand slowly moved up to gently push your hair aside, exposing the smooth skin of your neck and shoulder. Leaning in, he nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck, his lips brushing against the tender spot he had marked earlier. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice a mix of apology and affection

"It's okay, really" you whispered back, your hand finding its way into his messy curls. Your fingers gently stroking through them as if to soothe both him and yourself.

He pressed another soft kiss to your skin, letting his lips linger against it. The warmth of your body, the steady rise and fall of your chest, and the feel of your hand in his hair finally began to ease his mind. Holding you close, he let the lingering guilt fade, quickly replacing it by the comforting knowledge that you were safe and okay

Sugardaddy!Anakin who enjoys the thrill of teasing you in public settings, knowing you have to keep your composure. A subtle hand on your thigh under the dinner table, his fingers tracing dangerously close to your inner thigh, or whispering in your ear about what he plans to do to you later, all heighten the anticipation for when you’re finally alone.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who, over time, begins to consider a more permanent relationship with you. He starts dropping hints about you moving in, or even starting a family someday.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who's definitely into some roleplay (but mostly you surprise him with them)

Sugardaddy!Anakin who is open to exploring new things in the bedroom, and he enjoys introducing toys into your sex life. Whether it’s a silk blindfold, a vibrator, or even some light bondage, he knows exactly how to push your boundaries while making you feel safe and loved.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who, despite his dominant and sometimes intense nature, Anakin is always attentive to your needs afterward. He makes sure you’re comfortable, bringing you water, wrapping you in soft blankets, and holding you close. His fingers gently stroke your hair as he whispers sweet words, grounding you after an intense session.

Sugardaddy!Anakin who's more of a type of guy to send you flowers when he's out for business trip or etc

Sugardaddy!Anakin who has a habit of giving you jewelry that symbolizes his ownership. A necklace with his initials, a bracelet that matches his watch

Sugardaddy!Anakin who loves playing with your breasts;

"Dirty little thing, aren't you? You just love when daddy plays with your big tits, hmm?" his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples

"Mhm.." you lightly wriggled on his lap, feeling the well known hardness poking between your legs

"And you're mine, aren't you, love? This beautiful girl wouldn't leave me, now would you angel?"

Sugardaddy!Anakin who had an actual conversation with you about taking things more seriously, if you even wanted. And soon later he proposed to you

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker @slutforfinnickodair

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Obsession (Part 2)

Player 001 x reader 📖

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1

Tw: stalker!In Ho

Note: (c/n) stand for cat name

5 years had gone by and all In Ho had to go off of were bank statements and transactions to know where you were and if you were still alive. He knew where you lived, your favorite places to eat, to watch movies, and where your favorite shop was. He also knows you have new kitten, but not his name, probably something like (c/n).

No new lover. Nothing since you left. You picked up a job as a (whatever you wanna be), and were living. He knew in his mind the reason you couldn’t move on was because of him and he knew it.

He snuck around and watched you through plain view. Sometimes he sent people to watch you and report back to him. Other times, he’d travel to where you were and stalk you, follow you to the market, ducking you between isles, or on the train, watching you through a crowd of people.

He would stand in front of the cottage you bought on the edge of town, how easy it’d be to take you. You had a bad habit of leaving your windows open. Leaving your life open for all to see. He’s watched you masturbate more times than he can count. He has videos of you throwing your head back as you cum. Your moans quietly seeping through the window. He would jerk off at the same time, cumming in the darkness as he watched you, leaving his cum on the flowers that you planted along the walls of your house.

He hated to admit to himself but he was jerking off to you almost every right, smelling your jacket like a sick man. I am sick he admitted.

So many days and nights he was grabbing onto his bed sheets, pressed up against his shower wall or even in his chair by the big screen, he was cumming for you, with you in mind, he missed you. But he missed your pussy more. Today, he was determined to get it. He approached you as you drank a coffee, typing on your laptop.

“Hello ma’am” he bowed “would you like to hear about your lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

“No, not right n-“ you stopped. “What’re you doing here, In Ho? It’s been 5 years, do you think what I said changed?” You say coldly.

“I know it hasn’t.” He sat before you can continue speaking. “I miss you (y/n). I mean, really fucking miss you. It’s been a lonely 5 years, I miss your smell, your touch, your hair. I miss the way you talk and your smile. I just miss you”

“You know, for a very intelligent man, you’re acting and sounding really fucking stupid.” You scoff rolling your eyes at him. “I mean, you miss me. So what? I miss Young il, but I’m never getting him back, am I?”

“But I’m right here?”

“No… you aren’t young il… I don’t know you”

“And what, you think I lied?!” You nodded. “About what? Huh? What would I possibly lie to you about?”

“Everything, that whole relationship we developed, that sex we had, that love.” You say. “As far as I’m concerned, Young il was an angel and you don’t even exist.”

“But my wallet does?”

“Honestly, you can have your card back.” You shake your head. “I don’t need dirty money”

“It’s clean. It comes from the stocks i invest in. Really (y/n), do you honestly think I’d give you game money?” He looks at you intensely. He wanted to tell you how attracted to you he still was. How his cock still aches for you. How he just wishes to fuck you. It was sitting across from you that he realized he was going to fuck you… whether you liked it or not.

“What do you want?” You sighed finally.

“One date with you. Please.” He stated. He knew deep in his heart that you still wanted him, you yearned for him. He needed you.

“No” you say and stand up.

“Look, one date, to show you who I really am as a person.” He argued. “Who I am outside of those damned games that ruined us. If after that you still decide you hate me, that’ll be all. You can live your life and I can live mine knowing at least I tried to make it better” he pleaded. His eyes pulling at your heart strings as they once did. You saw Young il for a brief moment, before seeing In Ho. You saw the man that was so sweet and gentle.

“Fine. One.” you conceded. You traded numbers and you left. Not knowing that In Ho could now tap your phone, could ruin your whole life. But truly the only thing he wanted to ruin was you.

You made it to your little cottage. It stood on the edge of the city with a small village of cottage farmers surrounding it. Fluffy baby cows and little lambs screamed at you from your neighbors house. Horses neighbors and goats cried. Your life was perfect, this place was perfect. Young il would have loved it… In Ho obviously prefers different style of life. Black and gold, power, money.

“Hi (c/n)” you say as he purred at you. He looped around you as you walked further into your house. You placed your items on your kitchen table. It was already 6. You cooked some dinner and watched an American drama you found on Netflix. Laughing along with the characters.

In Ho made it to his own home. The black and gold now insulted his eyes, it had ever since he saw the disgust on your face while you spoke angry and heartbroken. He sat at his computer, plugging in his phone. He stayed up for hours, deep into the night, hacking into your phone.

“Photos” he said aloud as he clicked it. He found a treasure trove of pictures. You with some friends, with family, birthdays, dinners, then he found your private photos.

“Let’s see (y/n), what do you do all alone” he whispered opening it. Pictures and videos of yourself floated into view, things other men should never see. Disgusting men like him should never see. He quickly searched through your sent and deleted messages, as far back as he could go, they’d never been sent. He returned back to the photos and stared at each on individually, videos playing, hardening his cock.

In Ho began to touch himself as he watched, his hand moving in sync with yours on the screen. He felt like he was participating in your intimate moment, like an invisible partner who you couldn't see or feel but was there nonetheless. He couldn’t help but freely moan into the emptiness of his room.

As the video played on, In Ho's movements became faster and more urgent. He could feel himself getting closer to climax, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like a teenager again, watching porn, anxious that his parents may walk in. The thought that these were moments meant for no one else's eyes but yours made it even more exhilarating for him.

“I’m gonna cum” you said on camera. To him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum” In Ho was getting sent into overdrive heavy sighs coursing through his lungs. “Oh god, Young il, I’m gonna cum on your fingers” he lost it. You were pleasuring to the thought of him, maybe his over persona, but still him nonetheless.

With one final stroke from you on screen and a simultaneous motion from In Ho's own hand came the peak of pleasure for him followed closely by release. His orgasm washed over him so strongly it left him gasping loudly within seconds all over both his keyboard and along edges near the monitor until reaching very tip top edge finally. He was panting, falling backwards, sinking deep into his chair. Cum heavily covered his desk space, now stained forevermore, a mess entirely due to a solely singular sickening act alone performed freely without fear. Through his sinful act.

If you knew would you forgive him?

[rebelspykatie]

The Gift That Keeps on Giving - Part 2

AO3 | Part 1

minor TW: Cheating (you'll see)

Working out how to tell Eddie they can’t keep this up is harder than it seems. How does he say that he’s too close to falling for him and they should just go back to the beginning and make this a business transaction, or forget Steve even asked? Backing himself out of this corner isn’t easy. He types out so many messages and deletes them, his thumbs hurt. He finally sends something short and to the point. A quick ‘I can’t do this anymore, but thank you for everything.’ 

That’s met with radio silence. He checks the chat later to see that it’s been read, but there’s no response. No little ellipses bubble telling him a reply is forthcoming. No thumbs up or impersonal got it. Just nothing. He goes to their account and sees it’s still actively posting about the tour, so Eddie’s been on and had a chance to reply, but he hasn’t. Before Steve can let that sink in and ruin his day, there’s a knock on his door. 

There’s a courier there, an inconspicuous man that Steve frowns at. He isn’t expecting anything from his father, but he takes the envelope and signs for it. The contents surprise him. The small Stevie written at the top that he runs his fingers over in disbelief. He doesn’t remember telling Eddie his address. Maybe there are perks to having a legal team and record label behind you. It doesn’t really matter how he figured it out. Because out falls two tickets to the Corroded Coffin show in Indy. The show that’s just two days away. 

Eddie followed through on his promise. Steve thought he’d forgotten all about the reason they started talking. He certainly was flirting enough to make Steve forget. There’s the possibility that Steve was reading too much into it. Tone is hard to gauge over text. Eddie’s probably like this with everyone. Playing it up to maintain that rockstar image. It probably didn’t mean anything to him, while Steve’s insides were molten lava every time his phone pinged with a reply from Eddie.

It’s bittersweet to be holding these in his hands after everything that’s happened over the past few weeks. He got what he wanted, but at what cost? The realization that he doesn’t want his boyfriend. He wants Eddie Munson. Who he has no chance in hell with. Does he even deserve to take his boyfriend to this show? Eddie never should’ve sent the tickets after Steve lured him in and ghosted him with a quick message and no further explanation. He should probably tell his boyfriend the truth, hand over the tickets and admit what a failure this relationship has become because of him. All it took was a rockstar paying attention to him to make him stray, so how good of a boyfriend can he be, tickets or no tickets.

Turns out the distance between him and his boyfriend wasn’t one sided. When Steve walks in on him with another man that night, ready to confess and hand over the tickets, it should be more shocking, or at least more devastating. He’s all too aware that the anger he should feel is nonexistent. Steve’s been cheated on before and it’s never a pleasant feeling, but it feels hypocritical to get mad at him, given where Steve’s thoughts and feelings have been over the past few weeks.

Steve heads home with a weight off his chest. Lightest he’s felt since Robin pointed out his honeymoon eyes over Eddie’s messages. There’s not much love lost on this relationship, but he doesn’t know what to do with the tickets now that his boyfriend’s out of the picture. He doesn’t try reaching out to Eddie again, unsure how anything he’ll send would even be received. But he doesn’t want to just let them go to waste, not after everything. 

He winds up dragging Robin to the show. She’s not into this kind of music, and Steve wasn’t either, at first, but Eddie is electrifying when he performs and Steve was drawn in from that first music video and hasn’t stopped listening since. And Robin loves Steve. She’d do anything for him, and he’s never more thankful to have her at his side when he hands over the tickets and they’re ushered backstage. 

There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary on the tickets as far as Steve saw, but something must have tipped the system off that they weren’t run-of-the-mill tickets. Security guards escort them into a tunnel, where they get on a golf cart and get whisked away to an unknown destination. Robin’s whining under her breath that they shouldn’t have come and Steve’s having flashbacks to herding children through the back of the mall when he was slinging ice cream and getting bullied by Nancy's younger brother into free movies for him and his friends. 

The destination turns out to be a suite, or a dressing room of some sort. A door labeled Eddie Munson that sticks out amongst the white painted concrete they’re surrounded by. He’s not sure if they’re under the stage or behind it, but there’s a loud humming sound and bass reverberating in the cavernous hallway. He doesn’t get much time to process his surroundings before the security guard is rapping on the door with a curt Mr. Munson and stepping aside. 

When the door flings open, a man with intentionally windswept hair and tight leather pants greets them. By greets, he stares dumbly at them, slack jawed and eyes on Steve, like he can’t believe they’re real. Steve doesn’t know what to say anymore than it seems Eddie does, with his doe eyes and surprised tilt to his head. After a beat of silence that goes on too long, Robin clears her throat. 

“How drunk was I?” Eddie asks, brows furrowing as he takes in Robin. “I could’ve sworn you said boyfriend.” 

“Ex-boyfriend,” Robin chirps, grinning like a maniac. 

“Do you mean, you were a boy and now you’re a girl?” Eddie leans against the doorframe, perplexed, and Steve is distracted by the way his shirt rides up and reveals a sliver of pale skin to tease him. He can see a santa hat sticking out of the back pocket of his pants.

Robin gags at the thought of being Steve’s partner in anything other than crime. She points at herself, “Robin Buckley, always a girl,” then she points at Steve, “always a dingus,” and sticks out a hand for Eddie to shake. “Platonic lesbian best friend, at your service.” 

“Eddie Munson,” he says, shaking her hand but looking over at Steve, a bemused grin dancing on his lips. “What happened?” 

“You did,” Steve says, a little breathless.

Part 3

[snoringkitty1]

Aventurine boyfriend Headcanons

TW: Fluff, not proofread, Mildly suggestive content. Enjoy <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

Aventurine at the beginning of your relationship is a flirty bastard, he'll tease you to high hell and leave you high and dry for his own amusement.

There is 0 initial affection, he's only in it for his entertainment or because he has something to gamble or get from you.

Kisses you with his eyes open, atleast at the start.

But gradually, when you realizes you won't be leaving because of his lack of effort, he might just soften up and start to let his guard down a little.

Though of course this is after a while, but you'll start to see the more vulnerable and faint side to him.

He'll become more affectionate gradually the more he begins to trust you with his feelings, though, it still might take a while. Patience is key.

He's still flirty no doubt, but now there's actually feelings and meaning to his words, and they aren't bluffs anymore.

His sense of fashion may or may not rub off on you..aka he forces you to wear matching clothes, it makes him feel special.

"Do i really need to where this..? Matching outfits are so tacky." You grumbled and adjusted the hat on your head before sighing and taking it off, running your fingers along the rim and raising a brow. "Well, you don't need to, but i would love you more if you did." He joked and fixed a few details on your jacket before taking the hat from your hands and setting it on your head. "You don't love me enough already?" You pouted and looked up at him. He smiled and shook his head, pulling you close for a kiss, his hands holding tight onto your waist as he trapped you in a kiss. "I love you~" He cooed softly and leaned back, "Some matching clothes won't change that." he assured and rubbed your cheek before stepping back and putting his hands in his pockets, "now~ shall we?"

The king of shopping dates, if you don't like shopping though, then the two of you will probably be having at home dates most of the time.

But don't think for a second he isn't buying the most delectable (and expensive) food he can find, because to him, if its clothes, food, hair, nails, you name it. He thinks you're a worthy investment (he just likes to spend money on you.)

Speaking of giving presents, thats simply his love language, because i reckon he feels like if he gives enough, then he won't have to worry about you leaving him.

That being said, he'll need a bunch of reassurance to stop giving random super expensive presents. He'll still give you some regardless but he'll tone it down significantly.

He comes off as the kind of guy who only gives or takes longer kisses, to me atleast.

He might use this to his advantage if he perhaps gets jealous, which i think happens pretty often.

But i think there's also a chance of him just absolutely demolishing you once you two are home behind closed doors.

Switch energy, but can and will top when he feels like it.

He'll let you decide the pace though, he doesn't want intimate moments to feel transactional.

Afterwards, i Dunno i feel like he'd just fall asleep with you, then take of you the next morning.

You rolled away onto your stomach..or tried to, the tight grip of a certain blonde kept you from moving too far away. When you let out an uncomfortable grunt though, Aventurine was quick to let go and sit up to check on you. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, smiling a little before closing them again, "I'm fine, i'm fine.." you mumbled softly, but that didn't deter him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek before getting up, you opened your eyes and sat up on your elbows to watch him, he disappeared into the closet briefly and returned with one of his shirts. "Here you go Darling~" he cooed softly and held the shirt out from you, his messy bed head framed his face nicely. "ah..thank you-" you smiled and put it on before flopping back again. "Anything else i can get you? I can order food, or make bre-" He paused when you pulled him close all of a sudden. "Just cuddle with me for a little bit.." You muttered softly, and He nodded, pulling you close again..and like that, you two were cozy and asleep in minutes.

Thanks for reading.

[aloesarchives]

Toji Fushiguro General/Relationship Headcanons #1

TW/Warnings: Profanity, Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, the talks of starting a family, little bit of married life (LMK if anything else needs to be tagged)

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her (Usage of female gendered terms like Sweet Girl, Woman, Princess)

Word Count: 6.6k words

So these head canons exist for all versions of Toji that I write. However, these are more based around Modern/Non-Sorcerer Au and my personal ‘Toji Lives’ Au. But these are also stand alone because they are some general stuff I think about for Toji in general and his relationship with reader. I’m doing a separate head canons where it’s mainly family/domestic fluff with Megumi and Tsumiki. Maybe making more parts if I have more head canons.

Also, I'm starting to plan out the parts for my Toji x Reader/Megumi x Reader mini series. I'll release a google form for those who are interested in the mini series and another one for the continuations of my Suguru x Reader/Satoru x Reader one-shot. So stay tune for any updates in the upcoming weeks!

!!Not proofread and unedited!! 2/22/24 11:26 pm CST

One thing’s more certain, when you first met Toji, you didn’t fall in love right away. Your relationship with Toji was something gradual, building up over time as you kept running into him. 

One of your most notable encounters happened in the grocery store you always go to and see him at. Your fridge was getting empty as per usual so you came today to fully stock it. As you were nearing the end of your trip, you stopped by the meat section to grab some meat for tonight’s dinner. Normally, you prefer your local butcher’s but they were on vacation so this would have to do. As you were going to reach for one, another hand reached for the same one, a much larger hand. You quickly retracted and apologized to the individual when you saw Toji smirking at you. The two of you talked for a bit before your eyes wandered towards his basket. It had barely anything in it, to you at least. There were some canned drinks, minimal vegetables, a bag of chips, like a loaf of bread.

“Are you picking some things for your pantry, Toji?”

“Nah, this is my food.”

“For today?”

“For this week.”

You stand there absolutely stunned. By the looks of his nonchalant expression, he was not joking. You didn’t want to ask him if this is how much he can afford to not make him feel embarrassed. So you invited him to your place for dinner and to cook for him. Toji's insistence on declining was strong, but your persistence for him to eat was even stronger. Adding Toji’s grocery and paying for everything. Toji carries the groceries to your place and you both enjoy a warm filling meal for him. The man had never eaten so good before he fell asleep on your sofa right after. The next day, he woke up around 10 am to the sound of you washing dishes. He sees breakfast for two on the table and a large bag sitting on the counter. You tell him to join you and you both enjoy your breakfast. While cleaning up, Toji asks what’s the big bag for and you said it’s for him. You cooked him a week worth of food because you knew he didn't have time or energy. So you handed it to him as he’s leaving, telling him to come back anytime for a good meal. As soon as your front door closes, he’s just standing there trying to understand what just happened. His heart is swelling at your gesture, his face ablaze with a heavy blush, wondering why he is feeling this way for you. And Toji makes the horrific realization that he’s falling for you and it won’t stop there.

Most likely you have to initiate the first hangout because the man is clueless when it comes to interactions, specifically with women in a non-flirtatious/transactional way. He started to like you because you weren’t handsy with him or led the conversation to something else. You were interesting because your interactions were real with no other intentions besides talking to him. You’ll admit he’s hot but won’t say it out loud because you don’t want to say something uncomfortable or overstep your boundaries. 

Your hangouts consist of eating at those family-owned restaurants or hidden gems, the food’s good with a good price. Walking around or in a park, maybe hiking if you’re even interested. He doesn’t have money to take you out properly but you aren’t someone who’s into high-end or fancy places because they’re a waste of money in your opinion. You find inexpensive ways to spend time with Toji and it’s fun for you because you don’t have to worry about his expectations because he’s having fun too.

The more he sees and spends time with you, the more he values your company. He starts smiling more and is in a better mood than all his years alive. He definitely isn’t energetic but he isn’t as robotic as he used to be before meeting you. Shui notices this but doesn’t say anything to Toji because he thought he was overthinking things. But when Toji asks him how do you know you’re in love, Shui thought Toji legit went insane. Toji doesn’t want to talk about it but he doesn’t know who the hell to ask so Shui is his closest bet. He asks Toji who got him acting up and Toji shows him a picture of you and he asks Toji if he kidnapped you because he didn’t know he could pull an absolute unit of a woman. And Toji replies “I don’t know man, I don’t even know myself.” Shui is lowkey happy Toji has you. He is fully aware Toji doesn’t have the best background but it’s clear as day you being around him is changing him for the better, undoubtingly saving him.

Toji doesn’t have the best living conditions, he lives by himself in a rundown studio apartment that only had a basic kitchen, a bathroom, and main space that doubled as the living and bedroom. He barely had anything in his apartment other than a futon, a closet, and a table. Got some trash lying around because he doesn’t bother to pick it up. Apartment smells like the back of the house kitchen at a restaurant mixed with the boys locker room in high school. You offered to help clean up. Trash bags full of trash and used cleaning wipes, laundry done and fresh, every surface wiped clean. By the time it was done, his apartment looked brand new. You wouldn’t be surprised that it was trashed again but at least it was clean for once. After your help, Toji becomes a little conscious of his space and cleans it. But this turns into him not using that space because he’s always at your place.

Toji has a habit of ghosting/disappearing without notice. You’re seeing him at the supermarket, next he’ll be gone for like a month or so. Since you really don’t have his phone number, you can’t contact him but it’s not like you two were friends let alone dating at this point. You say it is what it is until one stormy night you heard a hard knock on the door. The next thing you see is Toji, two duffel bags, a cut above his eyebrow while being soaked. You shoved him inside, gave him a towel while patching him, drying his clothes while he changed in your guest bedroom. 

Toji lives with you and split the house chores. But since you’re technically the one with a consistent income and job, you mostly are away from the house and Toji is 90% at home. You do grocery shopping or errands before and after work while Toji holds down the fort. It's been a rough few weeks with him but there was progress. And it was good progress.

You find out pretty fast how Toji’s terrible spending habits and crippling gambling addiction. Luckily for you, you have your own bank account so you don’t have to worry about the man stealing your money. However, you do force Toji to give his paycheck from his inconsistent but very high paying jobs. Literally one of his checks had a value of $30 Million Yen! You cashed it in your account so fast and paid all your bills and groceries off for a minimum of 3 months. It never struck why Toji doesn’t see that as much money but you come to learn that his clan is a prominent one with a substantial amount of wealth so that amount doesn’t surprise him. But still, you told him you’re permanently in charge of the finances because you don’t trust him handling any money. Strangely enough, he doesn’t protest at your rule and now whenever he’s done with a job, he instantly gives his cheek to you. You do give Toji some personal spending cash besides for food and necessities, then eventually a card that’s attached to your bank account. But it’s not a joint account but a card that has access to your account. His card has a spending limit to the equivalent of 67.7k yen(roughly $475 dollars) every month. He CAN withdraw money but you are notified through your bank’s notifications when, where, and how much. Even though you two are balling because of his cheeks, you don’t get carried away with the spending because life in the city is too fucking expensive and you need all the money you can get. Plus, you don’t want to raise any suspicion because you’re pretty sure Toji’s money is blood money or from the black-market and you don’t want to draw a lot of attention for your own safety.

Toji only knew how to cook the basics but nothing over the top or fancy. But once he starts living with you, he starts learning how to cook and for all things under the sun it’s fucking immaculate. Toji’s cooking just tests better to the point you assign him on cooking duties since he cooks better and faster than you. Your co-workers are always envious every time they see your lunch. It’s something different everyday but it’s delicious and filling but not the kind that makes you lethargic. It’s so fucking good that you two don’t eat out as much because his cooking has evolved to peak gourmet. Lowkey is happy you like his cooking and it gives him motivation to continue his work if it puts you in a good mood.

Which brings up another point. I believe Toji is capable of gaining multiple useful skills, it’s just he’s unmotivated. Like he could be good at changing tires, plumbing, handy-man work, cooking, any installation, anything under the sun, but he chooses not to because he doesn’t feel obligated to do so. But it all changes when he starts living with you. Man becomes a jack of all trades and he basically makes life easier because you have him fix/do what needs to be done all the while you’re saving money. He’s a fast learner too. Pretty much once he does it the first time and it works without breaking/doesn’t turn out like shit, it’s locked in his head and knows how to fucking do it.

Initially, Toji is lazy because he is a go with the flow type of guy that doesn’t concern himself with appearances. If it’s livable, not rotting, and doesn’t smell rancid, he’s not going to touch it or bother picking it up. That’s why his apartment was a mess because he’s able to live in those conditions because they’re his own, that's not a thorn in his side. Like he’ll leave his clothes by but not near the hamper because he’ll eventually pick them up when it’s laundry day(you end up picking it up but you started to trip over them while in the bathroom). But you establish a routine for Toji to follow. He doesn’t have to follow it exactly but you said there should be at least 4 main components to it. Literally forcing Toji to pick up habits so he’ll be more productive and conscious of his time. 

Took some time but he eventually attaches to it because it mostly revolves around your schedule. It got to a point where he would be waking you up for your work, getting you your morning drink and a decent breakfast, getting your work bag with your lunch inside, all the while getting you out on time. If not, 5 minutes early so you can be on time for work. I can imagine him saying stuff along the lines of:

“Shakes your shoulders firmly (Y/N), Wake the hell up. You slept through your alarm and it fucking woke me up. You gotta get out of the door in 30 minutes or you’re going to be stuck in traffic, dumbass.”

“Oi (Y/N), it’s 6:00 am. You have 15 minutes to get your ass up and get ready for your work. Before 6:20, you better have your work clothes on when you come into the kitchen because I already made your breakfast.”

“I’m trying to get you out of the door early so you can catch the early train and beat the morning rush. Here’s your lunch and your work bag. Make sure you have everything because I’m not going to bring it to your work if you ask me to.” (He does anyway)

“Hey, it’s going to rain hard later so here’s your umbrella cause I don’t you to fucking sick knowing how you get careless with yourself some times. Pain in my ass…”

So you kinda tamed Toji, this wandering stray cat that was 6’2 and built like a concrete pillar. But you didn’t make it your whole personality trait because 1.) you think it’s pretty fucked up to think helping Toji/people like him is more of a project than genuine compassion. 2.) And you roll your eyes when people say you ‘“fixed” Toji. You just say “Um, no? No I didn’t, Toji picked himself up and changed because he decided to. Not because I FIXED him or him changing isn’t my doing because you be surprised by the amount of people that stay the same because they chose to.” Another reason why Toji fell for you is because you see Toji as a whole human with flaws, you humanized him. You don’t parade him around like some sort of object, you acknowledge his presence and it makes him fall in love with you even more.

Definitely have arguments for sure early on that were rougher compared to being together for a while. Again, this is mostly due to him growing up and being treated as sub-human. He’s vocal not because he chooses not to communicate. But because he doesn’t know how, especially with you, his safe person and your home being his safe space. He was used to being neglected, dismissed or straight up abused altogether. But now that he’s living with you, he’s trying to dismantle his old mindset while learning how to communicate/vocalize his thoughts. He feels he’s unworthy of you because you have an immense amount of patience and understanding for him. Sure, there are your flaws but so does he and he knows living with someone like him is harder than anything else. So he’s appreciative of your efforts and faith in him.

He knows he has a loud voice and is careful when he loses his temper. Obviously for noise complaints but also for because it can be startling and scare you. God, one time you both almost got into a yelling match because of something miniscule and irrelevant but it transformed into something deeper that you didn’t know why you two were fighting about it in the first place. But the way he snapped at you and you unconsciously flinched at him, his heart felt heavy and cracking. He never saw you scared before but the thought of him being one of your fears terrified him immensely. He softens himself and deflates his body to show the surrender of his pride. He ACTUALLY genuinely apologies to you and opens his arms out so you could hug him.

Most of the arguments are just you being frustrated with him. Mostly this was early on with his lack of routine and productive habits, like him not picking up his clothes and leaving his cups everywhere. But Toji is one of those passive guys where he doesn’t like arguing with you and wants to end it asap. Even if he’s not in the wrong, he’ll just admit and apologize to you so you aren’t mad at him anymore. He doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him. Sometimes it can escalate to heated ones but those happen rarely and only exist when something snowballs. He may give an attitude here and there but you mostly know that’s him being himself and he doesn’t mean it.

Your relationship didn’t have a definitive label but the lines are blurred between the two of you. You two hug and hold hands sometimes but it’s more than platonic but not enough for love either. Through large and tight crowds, Toji lets you hold onto his arm , has his hand firmly pressed on the small of your back, or holds your hand tightly as he makes his way through. It’s common for you two to be passed out on the couch together or on the floor after watching a movie or a show. Or how he leans his head on yours when on the train, even carrying you home if you fell asleep and doesn’t have the heart to wake you up because you're tired from work. What you have with Toji is nice and comfortable but you do end up loving him because he makes your life warm and worth living. You just don’t know if he’ll feel the same. Oh but he does, he fucking does. But he doesn’t know how to say the three magical words because he never heard them at all when he was growing up. Let alone someone saying it to him.

You definitely say I love you first before him. Because let’s be honest, this man never knew what the hell ‘love’ or true love is. This man grew up in a traditional family that prioritized status, reputation, influence, and anything under that umbrella for traditionalism. So love was never an important aspect of his clan. So for you to show him the true wonders of love and its ups and downs, he’s overwhelmed and a little ashamed because he’s trying to adjust and get used to this feeling. He isn’t a fairly vocal man but he’ll forever be grateful for your patience, kindness, compassion, and understanding towards someone like him. He freezes when he hears you say it to him with such tenderness and warmth only you could give him. You know he’s not ready to say it back but you couldn’t help but tell him because it needed to be put out there for both him and you. You told him he doesn’t have to say it if he’s not ready or doesn’t feel the same. But you also said that you truly only care for and love him only.

But when he said “I Love You” to you, you knew he meant it with all his heart. You could remember it clearly because it was storming with heavy rains. Flash flood warnings are being sent out and weather channels are telling citizens to stay indoors and not leave their homes. Toji has been trying to call you for the past hour but you never picked up. His anxiety was rising, fearing you were stuck or possibly hurt. He says fuck it and grabs his jacket to go out when you open the door just as he was about to leave. Your clothes were wet but not soaked but you held your shoes in your hand while dropping your umbrella and bag on the floor. You tried to explain to Toji that your phone died at work before you could ever call him. There was a flooded street and so you had to take your shoes off to not get them ruined. You did grab him some food though beforehand but that didn’t matter to him when he saw that you were safe and unharmed. He hugged so tightly through your wet clothes when he said the fabled words to you. 

“Goddammit, I fucking love you, (Y/N). I was so fucking worried about you. I thought you were in trouble or something, Sweet girl. .  .”

You started to cry when you heard him say that you kissed him on the lips by impulse. You thought you fucked up and try to apologize only for him to return your kiss with his only while you hold his face and his hands on your waist. Fuck it was beautiful.

Pretty much after that, you both were in the trenches of love with each other. Fuck it’s so tooth-rotting to see it that Shui jokes and teases the hell out of Toji because that man changes his whole demeanor when you call him. He calls him out on how his voice changes from its usual monotone gruffness to low but soft. Toji tells Shui, “I’m a changed man.”

People are so jealous of you two. How the hell did Toji bag you!? The most ethereal, beautiful, compassionate, kind, funny, and respectable woman?! And how lucky did you get finding such a fine specimen of a man?! 

Toji’s pronouns are literally HE/HIM because Toji is HIM while you’re the IT girl with the one of your pronouns being SHE/HER because you are HER FOR REAL ON GOD.

You two are the IT couple, I don’t make the fucking rules. There’s you being the best version of yourself and you unapologetically. Then there’s Toji who’s hot AS FUCK and following his favorite girl around because you’re the only girl for him, BEST GIRL. He is just there but with you nevertheless.

You’re the couple people make those cool edits of, I’m not even joking.

Knows how to drive both automatic and manual but as an automatic cause because of you. You are on permanent passenger princess duty because this man is your chauffeur until he dies or has no legs. Drives with one hand on the wheel and the other is either on the gearshift, your hand, or your thigh. Looks hot every time he turns or reverses because his biceps show themselves and it’s dangerous for you because it makes you feral.

IDK if it’s just me but Toji seems like the guy to buy a whole rotisserie chicken just for himself. He’ll buy one for you, of course. But one of those bad boys is his because he’s not sharing! After a workout or work, he’ll eat it with no signs of meat left on the bones. They’re so clean he even eats the cartilage.

Toji seems like one of those individuals that looks full grown when he’s younger like in his early 20’s and just stops aging altogether. Not like his entire appearance stays the same, it's just his genetic game is so strong and good people believe he's like 25 when he’s actually in his mid to late 40’s. You and him are like cheese and wine. Both perfectly paired together, and the aging is unnoticeable but you both taste divine.

His closet is the most basic and uncomplicated. T-shirts, undershirts, sweaters, hoodies, joggers, sweatpants, maybe one pair of black cargo pants but that’s about it. He always wears sweaters or hoodies when he’s out because he lowkey doesn’t like to be stared at unless it’s you. He knows his compression shirts would make people drool so he opts out of showing up in them unless it’s super hot or he’s too lazy to cover up. Toji definitely would wear those oversized Uniqlo t-shirts for men. He has the black, dark green, and dark blue ones. Fucking never leaves the house with his fucking sandals or black kung-fu slippers. You buy a pair of black Air Force 1’s, Vintage Black Arizona Grip Birkenstocks, and some Doc Martin black leather boots(1460 Smooth Leather Lace Up Boots). You had to up his shoe game because there is no way you’re letting him only have two pairs that are very worn out.

People think he isn’t all that because he’s chill and uncaring most of the time. In reality, Toji knows how to tap into his inner dawg like a switch. He’s really good at hiding it and not making it obvious. But like then snap! He summons his inner dawg and menacing aura. You could be talking to someone unaware that is staring them down. You smile at him and his aura changes so fast as he smiles at you in return. But as soon as you turn away to continue talking to the person, the menacing aura just returns. His aura is so intimidating and menace-like that people genuinely grow anxious and fearful. So much so that they could piss/shit themselves or even throw up if they didn’t have a strong will.

Personally, Toji is more of a German Shepherd boyfriend than a black cat boyfriend. IDK, it just makes sense to me. Like he talks and isn’t hostile to people he knows like you and Shui, literally the only two people in his life that he’s close with. But everyone else, he either hates them or doesn’t give a single care in the world. 

I also personally think Toji isn’t stupid and he's actually intelligent. I think his past issues and how he was treated is the reason he seems like an incompetent person. But really, he’s pretty smart. I know this doesn’t involve the canon but the fact Toji knew which weapons to use on Satoru, beating Suguru with an inch of his life but not killing because he knows what Suguru’s technique can do if he does, and the whole plan with the bounty on Riko was pretty genius. Look, I’m not trying to vouch for him for what he did. But you can’t help but admit what Toji did was impressive. He worked smarter, not harder compared to other people. Especially letting the curse user do all the work for him while he gets to deal with the easy part and go in for the kill. The man came prepared to get the job done. I mean I would too if there was $30 million yen on the line. Sure, he’ll forget to pick up on some social cues. But once the man locks in, he'll be the most observant and perspective person in the room and he’ll learn something about someone just by their body language and simple mannerisms. 

Not sure if this is confirmed or not by Gege but I read someone where that Toji is into philosophical conversations. But I can see because, again, he’s intelligent and has seen/learned a lot of stuff from his hits/jobs. Toji isn’t one of those smartasses that you experience in those advanced classes. He’ll earnestly speak his mind if you ask and what you have to see. He always finds it interesting hearing things from your point of view and I feel like this is one of the ways you two grew close to one another.

You two got married because you just popped the question to him and said yes. You two didn’t have rings at the time but he did buy you the one you wanted but the band had some black on it. His was a solid black wedding band to match yours. Up close, it looks pretty cool. He bought the rings because he asked Shui for any hits/“jobs” that were available on such short notice after you two got married. A week later, Shui notices it and asks him if he finally tied the knot with you. Toji just nods.

Took your last name then both of you decided to add another last name, deciding on Fushiguro. King shit right here. Not afraid or ashamed he took your last name as a middle finger to his clan.

This isn’t a Toji head canon but I can see Shui being a bro and giving Toji consistently well-paying hits/“jobs” because he knows how much you mean to Toji and Toji has to provide for you too. You both would be sleeping and Toji hears a notification go off and knows Shui sent him a job that will be done by tomorrow afternoon.

Routine wise, nothing changes between the two of you. However, Toji is more open and affectionate with you. Especially with nicknames, he rarely uses your real name at home. God, when he calls your names of endearment, you’re going to fucking explode from how deep and gentle voice gets calling out to you. 

He also loves hugging you from behind and having you in his arms. Definitely gives good hugs, they give the right amount of squeeze but are so warm and protective. Is more daring with his kisses, would steal a kiss whenever he gets the chance.

Toji is the type to sleep the closest to the bedroom door. Doesn’t matter where the door is, your body is always in front of him. Just in case something happens, he can/will protect you and he can use his body as a shield to protect you.

Unironically a good listener, legit has a good hearing canonly in reality. He just carries his resting nonchalant face all the time. He could be focused on something or not looking your way, but Toji is listening to you speak and will recite your words right back at you if you think he is. This also helps if you’re someone who tends to forget things or need reminders. He’ll tell you what you were supposed to do 5 minutes ago word for word if you ask him.

Sleeps in his boxers only. Might sleep in a shirt and sweatpants when it’s colder. But Toji’s body mass produces enough heat to be a furnace that you both only sleep with one blanket. He’s always warm. If you get cold hands, fear not because they’ll be warm in five seconds if you place them on Toji’s abs.

Fairly possessive to an extent. It’s usually blended in with protectiveness because one can bleed into another. Like he’ll let you to your own devices but isn’t going to whine if you have guy friends. Toji can read between the lines, he has really good social cues. But he’ll straight up tell you he doesn’t like your male friends/co-workers if they are interested in you romantically. You’re his girl, he wants people to know it. But he would literally kill for you and bring the Heavens to their knees just to keep you safe and protected. Would literally take the fall for you in anything, you can’t change my mind on that. Toji: “Your honor, my girl did nothing wrong. It was self-defense.” 

Toji has self-esteem issues for sure. You could have anyone in the whole world, anyone in this lifetime. But you choose him, and always chose him. The amount of times Toji had to get/do something while you wait for him only to come back to see a random-ass guy talking and trying to get your number. His heart would squeeze at the scene because he wouldn’t blame you for going for someone better. But when he sees you say “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m with my boyfriend and he should be back any second now.” Seeing your eyes scan for him and the way your face lights up seeing him made his heart inflate, making the squeeze disappear. You speed walk to Toji, ignoring the dude, and hug his arm tightly. Toji kisses your head as he walks with you not before throwing the dude a shit-eating grin his way. After that, Toji knows you’re loyal to him and that’s a fact.

But if we’re going to be honest, none of us would leave Toji if he treated us well and deservingly. Plus he’s strong and has the body that even the Gods are jealous of, how are we gonna fumble a bag like that? Ngl, if I meet Toji in real life, I’d run in the other direction fucking scared b/c I’m not fantasy me and fantasy me is better. 

Nicknames for you consist of Doll, Babe/Baby , Honey or Hun, Dear, Sweet Girl, Sweet Thing, Princess.

Toji is the type of man to say “Wear whatever the fuck you want, Doll. I can fight” and says it with his chest with no questions asked because it’s true. Toji got that win streak with zero losses under his belt. But then again, no guy will try to hit on you when they see Toji giving them the ultimate stare down when they try to do something funny.

Once gut punched someone so hard they were sent flying while throwing up what they ate for the day because they tried to make a physical move on you and Toji’s instincts just took over.

Toji definitely brawls and fights. He could get jumped by like 10 dudes and send all of them to the hospital completely unscathed. But his beatings get more aggressive if he is with you. Like if you two are out and some guy tries to hit on you and uses his group to intimidate him, you give Toji the approving nod and he’s just giving all of the most devious combos to ever grace this plant while you're sipping on your drink watching it all unfold.

Also, Toji isn’t letting things slide when you’re uncomfortable, annoyed, or God forbid, scared. One time, you told Toji you were going to get food for both of you at your favorite local restaurant/bakery/cafe. But you were gone longer than expected so he went to find you and saw you talking to a guy. He was confused at first because you usually tell them off or leave automatically. It wasn’t until he got closer when he saw the severity of the situation. To any passerby, it’s two people but then up close you can see the guy’s friend right behind him, backing him up and purposely corning you so their pressure would make you say yes but you held your ground. But you were lowkey scared because they trapped you in an abandoned lot that was hidden from the public eye. So when Toji saw how your body shrunk and clutching your bag of food to your chest, that was his green light to go in. Toji grabs the guy’s throat, his hand being big enough to get a good grip. His eyes are cold and daunting, telling the guy, “You must have shit for brains because she clearly isn’t interested in you. It’s not cool to corner a woman with your bitch-less friends.” That’s his only warning to them before he boxes all of them. Took him 2 minutes max and he’s pulling you along with your food in his other hand. 

Toji also would be more than okay if you ask him to pick you up or drop you off from work. You both have a car but it’s cheaper and more convenient to take public transportation. Like he’ll walk with you to work and leave once you’re inside. Once you’re off, you see him outside waiting for you. Your co-workers you vibe with wonder who’s the handsome guy that is always waiting for you and you say that’s your husband. They’re gawking at him and say you’re so lucky. 

Hates him when people tell him what to do but will follow every command you give him. You’re the only one who can boss him around and he’s actually happy to oblige. Responds with “Yes, Sweet girl”, “Anything else, Honey?”, or “Of course, Dear/Babe/Baby”.

Toji is the type of man to follow you anywhere and do anything with you as long as it makes you happy. The type of man to be like “It is what it is, I’m not gonna complain”.

His body is made from the amount of work he has to do for his occupation. He doesn’t need to go to the gym because he gets a full pump by doing push ups alone at home. Does pull ups in the doorway, has a heavy barbell and dumbbells set in your home because you allowed him thinking it would make him productive. Literally puts body builders and any gym goers to shame. His strong body is built by his job alone and his body’s innate ability to gain muscles and keep a low but healthy fat percentage.

Doesn’t drink because he has a very high alcohol tolerance and also he can’t get drunk too. So if you’re not into drinking, he can always keep you company and will back people off if they pressure you into drinking even though you declined. He can see the amusement in drinking culture but he doesn’t drink himself because he hates being under the influence. He won’t mind if you do and he’s more than willing to pick you up from a night out of friends. Not a fan of bars but will go if you ask him to, your drinks are always protected.

Thinks he can rizz you up but it’s you who has the most powerful rizz out of the two.

If you’re having a bad day or just having a mental/emotional breakdown, Toji will try his best to comfort you. If you want him to hold you, he will hold in a loving and protective embrace. Definitely say things like, “You’re going okay, Baby”, “I’m here, Honey. I gotchu”, or “You’re with me, Doll. I won't let anything happen to you.” Not really good with advice but Toji always listens to what you have to say. He will get you anything you need or make you any food you’re craving at the moment. The man would literally go on a last minute grocery run to make you your favorite food to make you feel better. It makes him feel at ease when your mood lightens up or you smile at him.

Not a picky eater but eats the same types of foods because Toji doesn’t get sick of them that easily and he doesn’t have to think too hard on what to eat. But he will make something different everyday for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for you. He would judge you for eating the same food over and over again but not him because he eats just so to satiate his hunger.

He’s your infinite garbage disposal. You’re full or don’t want to finish your food, Toji will eat it for you. His hunger can be satisfied but his body has a large capacity until it reaches full. He never knew what it was like to be full.

Toji is always the big spoon. Maybe some nights he likes to be held by you but he’s the big spoon no matter what. Probably because he desperately needs to feel your presence in the dream world and protect your physical body. More of a back sleeper than a side sleeper but can sleep in either position. Sleeping positions consist of his arm around you and you’re tucked into his side while using his shoulder as a pillow, sleeping on his chest/on top of him, or back hugging you where his massive body engulfs your own. He loves being close to you when sleeping and hates when you’re not in his arms.

Most likely Toji will have nightmares because he feels like he doesn’t deserve you. If not, feel his life he has with you is even real. Sometimes the dark void is there with shadows looming closer to consume him the more he continues to think like that. It’s not until he wakes up to see your sleeping face and gently caresses it is when he realizes this is life was real, you are real and right in front of him. He smiles like a fool before kissing your forehead and holding you close.

Never has thought about his future because he didn’t think he would live this long, or have a domestic life. But now that he has you and is married, he constantly thinks about the future, your future together. He couldn’t imagine a future without you, it’s not possible for him. He imagines having a family with you and hopes you share the same idea as him.

I know these are wild and don't make sense for his character but let me dream, okay?! I've been simping for this man since October 2020, I've been waiting for this, lol. Anyway, thanks for the support!💙❤️

[erabundus]

i  admire  your  will.  and  at  that,  the  wanderer  flinches  —  lurching  back  a  barely  perceptible  degree  as  though  an  invisible  hand  has  struck  him  across  the  face.  confusion,  rebellion,  discontent  all  wash  over  delicate  features  like  waves  lapping  at  the  seashore.  he  doesn't  need  to  open  his  mouth  to  make  his  FEELINGS  on  the  matter  clear  —  admiration  is  the  last  thing  he  deserves.  the  wanderer's  life  is  a  cruel  thing;  a  violent  downward  spiral  to  greater  and  greater  depths  of  ugliness  and  depravity.  wholly  undeserving  of  admiration  or  sympathy.  the  only  value  it  serves  is  as  a  cautionary  tale  —  to  warn  against  what  evils  even  innocence  can  wrought,  for  the  purer  the  canvas,  the  darker  each  stroke  of  ink  may  show  upon  its  surface ...  and  truly,  there  was  no  canvas  purer  than  his  past  self  —  that  naïve  puppet,  IGNORANT  to  the  evils  of  the  world.  (  or  anything,  beyond  the  so-called  birthplace  he  was  left  to  ROT  in  for  so  many  years.  )

perhaps  there  is  strength  in  accepting  his  sins.  perhaps  there  is  strength  in  seeking  to  change  his  circumstances,  forge  a  better  future,  fix  the  errors  of  the  past  in  whatever  way  he  is  able.  yet  the  wanderer  can't  take  such  an  idealistic  perspective  to  nonexistent  heart  —  the  past  can't  truly  be  changed,  no  matter  what  way  one  tries  to  spin  it ...  and  the  future  is  simply  something  he  must  endure,  whether  it  comes  in  the  form  of  healing  or  misery.  ultimately he's  just  existing,  because  he  has  no  other  CHOICE.

❝  think  whatever  you  like.  ❞  the  wanderer  finally  says  —  when  he  does  manage  to  snap  back  to  his  senses.  he  is  the  first  to  avert  his  gaze,  eyes  trailing  over  blood-soaked  surroundings  as  if  witnessing  them  for  the  first  time.  (  and  again,  he finds himself  reminded  of  his  SHAMEFUL  loss  of  composure.  ) ❝  you  have  the  facts;  it's  your  right  to  form  whatever  opinion  of  them  that  you  see  fit.  ❞   whether  that  be  to  see  his  course  in  life  as  something  admirable,  or  a  too  little,  too  late  effort  destined  to  fail  from  the  very  BEGINNING.  both  interpretations  are  equally  permissible  —  they  don't  change  what  has  happened,  merely  serving  to  offer  a  different  perspective.  like  gazing  at  a  painting,  brush  strokes  long  dried,  and  attempting  to  glean  meaning  from  the  abstract  swirls  of  color.

he  pauses.  jaw  clenching,  teeth  gritting  as  thoughts  surface  from  the  tumultuous  waters  of  his  mind.  no  longer  a  weapon  merely  lacking  all  agency.  maybe  so  —  maybe  lesser  lord  kusanali  prefers  not  to  see  him  in  such  a  way,  but  that  doesn't  necessarily  mean  the  wanderer  agrees.  his  value  has  always  been  in  what  use  he  can  provide  other  people.  a  weapon.  a  tool.  a  test  subject.  a  god.  envisioning  himself  as  a  complete  person  with  the  capacity  to  live  however  he  pleases  is  as  staggering  a  concept  as  it  is  somewhat  terrifying.  he  needs  to  ease  into  it  —  needs  to  settle  the  debts  of  the  life  behind  him  in  whatever  way  he  can  before  he  can  finally  turn  his  gaze  fully  towards  the  future. 

he doesn't know how to live without being USED. not anymore.

❝  ... come on. let's  focus  on  the  task  at  hand.  ❞   it's  such  a  non-answer,  it  feels  like  an  implicit  admittance  of  defeat.  a  confession  —  that  he  doesn't  know  how  to  respond  to  that.  on  some  level  ren  knows  his  servitude  is  something  he  engages  in  of  his  own  free  will,  but  he  would  prefer  not  to  think  about  it.  ❝  we  came  here  with  a  job  to  do ...  have  you  found  anything  useful?  ❞  the  implication  is  clear  —  if  not,  let's  keep  looking.

Perhaps it was COLD - the way time and chronological distance so flippantly reduced people, objects and events into diminished caricatures. Perhaps it was an inherent injustice woven in equal parts from the shortcomings in human memory and the nature of fate itself. The world had been engineered in such a way that it moved relentlessly on, an automaton fuelled and pushing relentlessly on with little heed for what was lost in the process.

Human memory, written history, lived experience and all the anecdotes communicated from one generation to the next - these were the cornerstones of humanity's shared mark left upon the world, a footprint in the sands of the washing tide, the spectral remnants of eras past and faded in their antiquity.

Come what may, even the most consequential of legends were doomed to be lost in time.

"You're RIGHT." Cyno uttered finally, solemn and quiet. "It's all too easy to become subsumed in vengeance when fixating upon past grievances. There's little merit in such a stratagem, outside of the promise of the ephemeral BREVITY of momentary, selfish satisfaction."

He recognized his misdeeds, understood the gravity of what terrible and irredeemable tragedy he'd experienced and managed to inflict in turn. Here was an experiment in tragedy and metamorphosis; a weapon heated and used to the breaking point, a beast of war struck too many times and turning on its handlers with devastating consequences.

"I'm not the kind to assume, nor do I think it anywhere near justified that you should suffer the consequences if I should choose to project my INFERENCES and subsequent expectations upon you." Upon such a basis were the salt and sand towers of miscommunication and disappointment built; upon these grounds were innocents wrongly convicted and persecuted. Anyone who was fated to be judged ought to be appraised upon equal and objective ground - such was the QUINTESSENCE of fair trial - a single, equal privilege afforded to all to cross his path.

"I ADMIRE your will." Cyno met his gaze, seeing a single eye glittering with a demure approximation of malice concealed behind conjured propriety, a purple and eerie iris scintillating from beneath the harsh shade of his kasa. "I ADMIRE the way you've turned from your affronts and forged ahead. Rational pragmatism, blind righteousness - it makes little difference to me."

His situation was more familiar than Cyno had initially thought. Grief was an instrument of compliance. Neither of them were novel specimens in their shared and adjacent narratives of abandonment and strife, of manipulation and treachery, of being reduced to the basest components - rid of all their inconveniently human attributes and cleanly abridged to the components sought after by the ones pulling the strings.

"One cannot dictate the actions of another with any degree of certitude, and indeed, there would be little reason to do anything of the sort in your case. I only hope that you should understand that you are no longer merely a weapon lacking all agency. Neither the Dendro Archon nor the people of Sumeru will hold you to any obligations. If you chose to relinquish this hunt; if you chose to pursue your freedom and happiness away from all this, there would be nobody with any right to stand in your way and demand your continued service."

[adelusionforyourthoughts]

san - strangers to friends to lovers

tw: swearing, creepy men, san using his scary dog privilege to threaten creepy men

overview: nonidol au! reader is the owner of a flower shop where san comes in every week to buy flowers. but when does it stop being a relationship based on a transaction and when does it become something more?

an: wait why did i love how this turned out so much more than i thought i would? i love flower shop and coffee shop au’s a lot in case you were wondering (maybe that’s a hint to what’s coming up 👀)

if you like what you see, you can’t read more of what i’ve written here!

and as always, don’t be a stranger

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 7

You are trying to think about future with Konig TW for the work: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in her early 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective TW for this chapter: kidnapping

Chapter Text

He fixed the sink. 

It’s so dumb actually, even to think about it – pun not intended, you are not happy or energetic enough to ever attempt puns right now, not in your drained emotional state. He came to your house, uninvited as always – you thought about giving him a spare key just so he would stop barging inside at every giving moment, but then understood that it would only make matters worse – it would feel like you are inviting him. Like you’re okay with him being here, invading your space just like a foreign soldier he is. 

You stare at the sink – and it’s in perfect condition. No water droplets splashing from various screws, no rust on the metal – it looks like it just got out of the store, and it was never that perfect even when you first moved into this apartment. 

He didn’t even say anything about it – you don’t even remember him coming to your apartment with a bunch of instruments, with anything that can help a grown-up man burst into the apartment of his so-called girlfriend so he could fix her sink without her knowing. 

It’s nice of him, you think. You can wash your hands and brush your teeth without water spilling everywhere, and you don’t have to worry about mold slowly building inside the narrow space of your bathroom. You can even place some of the expensive skin care he bought on the ceramic surface without feeling disgusted every time you touch the white material. You don’t even use that much skincare, you don’t know why he bought it and where he got it. Quite frankly, judging by his ever-cold stare and complete emotional absence of everything connected to the gifts, you think he doesn’t know why he gives you so much either. 

Maybe, he thinks that your relationships are purely transactional. Maybe he always wanted a sugar baby but was too busy to get a specific one. Maybe he is so hideous under his hood, that the only way he knows how to get women is through gifts. 

You don’t even want to like him, you are always on the receiving end of his affection, almost never initiating anything. He is too hot to handle – not in a good way. Being nice to him feels like being nice to a stray dog - thin, malnourished, that type who would return to you even after a few good kicks in the curb. He is attached to you like hot glue and you can’t get him off without breaking the skin – and you are scared of him almost as much as your body is attracted to him. There is something nice about allowing him to love you – even though you feel like he is simply too fucking damaged to love properly. 

But he fixed your sink, he gave you a bunch of gifts and he gently advances over you without feeling overbearing. You don’t know how much you could bear without him wanting to actually put something in you, besides his fingers and various dry-humping sessions but, at least for now, he feels safe. 

König leaves you money in places you are not looking at first – almost like he is ashamed of paying you. Acknowledging how artificial your “relationships” are too much for him, but he still wants you to feel the best life possible. He is soft, and gentle with you, almost too much – even though you have various bruises when his grasp became too much on the softness of your limbs. 

Dating him – as much as you couldn’t even call it dating, more like receiving his advances and accepting the way he likes you like an obedient dog – made you actually read the news. Carefully watch through the reports, seeing all the accomplishments this small army is receiving here – how mercs are saving you, helping you, being a bunch of fucking saints even though their commander spends too many hours harassing an adorable little civilian in her house, doing nothing but making you hot and bothered and uncomfortable at the same time. 

You want him to leave. 

You want him to stay here, with you. 

He fixed your sink and now you can do your skincare routine with actual time put in. Everything that stands on the white ceramic is bought by him and you would rather throw up than rely so much on someone you don’t really know, but you don’t have a choice. The cafe is closed, and every other job opportunity is either worse or not going to make any difference in your situation – and with how often König shows up, demanding attention and immediate acceptance of his gifts, you don’t want to know what he will do if he finds out you are trying to run away from him again. 

You don’t anymore, of course. You’re a smart girl, you’re a good girl, the best ever. You don’t understand your own feelings, nothing you experience feels right, but you do know that having him around is comfortable. It’s nice, really, you want to like him so much, but you are too tired to feel anymore. Luckily, his feelings are intense enough not to demand anything from you – his love is big enough for the two of you. 

— Why are you so quiet, Schatz? 

He hugs you from behind, hands on your waist pulling you closer to him. He is warm, body temperature is almost unhealthily hot. In full gear, as always, you never ever saw him without it – even when you’re more intimate together, the only thing you can see is either the lower half of his face, scars on his mouth, and clearly shaved jaw with multiple razor cuts, or his dick – and you prefer not to look at it. 

— You fixed my sink. When? 

Hands are keeping you securely in place, not allowing you to move even for an inch. He isn’t wandering, at least, not leaning under your clothes. You’d feel ashamed for wearing washed-put shorts and some weird T-shirt you pulled out of the laundry, but you don’t want to turn each of his visits into a special occasion, especially considering how chaotic it is. You want to wear that really nice lingerie he brought to you – all soft and expensive fabrics, laces, and too much open skin – but you are too creeped out by the fact that he knows your exact size. At least with homely clothes, you don’t have to worry about being too seductive, too inviting and provocative. 

His hands are still squeezing and playing with your tummy. It feels like he relishes in every aspect of your body, no matter how perfect or imperfect it is – and his touches, hungry and almost agonizing in their desperation and greediness, are flattering. You never had anyone so utterly into you – never had any romantic partner who would treat you like their greatest possession. You want to feel like a real person, not just a romantic interest or object of obsession, but…god, his hands are warm and he treats you right and the loneliness of your life is worse than anything you could handle. 

— Few days ago. Had free time after a mission. 

He has an awful lot of free time for someone his rank. Sometimes he disappears for a few days straight and comes back only to be even more hungry with your body. He never spends the night, but always finds some time to burst into your apartment, look at what else he can change to make your life a bit easier – he broke one of your favorite tea cups and bought you a set of new ones, he threw away every old dish plate you had from the previous tenant and bought you a bunch of shiny silvery ones – things that made you feel even worse about yourself because oh god, why do you need to rely on him to but you the most basic fucking stuff. 

— You shouldn’t have done it. I can take care of it. 

Your mouth tells lies that even you don’t believe in. 

— It was leaking. Wanted to do something nice for you, Liebe. 

My love – you read the translations of a few phrases he is using towards you. German is hard and unforgiving, you are screaming at that damn owl for fucking up your pronunciation again as you desperately try to find something to fill your day without a job or worries about money. You are going to the store multiple times a day, buying milk, cookies and salt – all separately, just to do something. It fells like lockdown again, a desperate attempt not to go crazy by being stuck in 4 walls. 

You think – this is what drives housewives from American sitcoms to use recreational drugs and too many antidepressants. 

König thinks – you look so perfect like this. Almost like his perfect little housewife, hands are clinging to the kitchen counter and eyes desperately darting from side to side. He can practically smell your fear and it makes him go feral – he was a good fucking person, his mutter taight him to be a good boy and his father beated how a real man should behave into him. Yet he relishes in the fact that his weak, fragile girlfriend is shaking in his hold, like a kitten almost. He wants you to feel safe with him, but…well, he can indulge in himself a bit. After all, he does sacrifices everything for his service, right? And deserves a bit of pleasure after a hard day of killing terrorists. 

— Thank you, but…please, tell me before you are doing anything in my apartment. I would have just called my landlord. 

You wouldn’t because even when all of your rent debts is paid off and you don’t have anything else that you owe to the owner of the apartment, you still don’t have to see her disappointed and angry face. You had this leaking sin for three months already and just started to live around it – it was normal, there was some comfort in that brokenness. Now there isn’t one, and you just feel guilty for being scared of a man just because he probably stole your second set of keys and decided to fix it.

— When we’ll move to our own home, you won’t have to worry about asking permission from some Arschloch. You could change the sink or a couch every other day if you want to. 

“When we’ll move to our own home”

Such a simple phrase, really. König’s hands are slowly caressing your lower tummy, his erection already thrists into your ass through the fabric of your shorts and you immediately feel the heat rising in your body. You might not understand if you like him or not, but your body certainly craves his touch – craves the comfort and pleasure that being his provides. 

Such a simple phrase that fills you with dread. Living with him, under one roof – living in his country even though you never been to Austria and can barely learn the language. Living with him even though you don’t know what to answer if someone asks you about your relationship. 

Such a simple phrase that König wants to turn into reality. You, barefoot because of course he would build a house with floor heating, he won’t have his wife slipping on some slippers while he is away and hurting herself, in the kitchen that he would made for your desires and height – he isn’t much for cooking and if you are not also, he’d search for a housekeeper – looking at some weird Austrian dish that you can made for him when he comes home. Perfect family, just like his mother told him he has to make – just like his father was never able to. 

He is a simple man and if you won’t want to play along with his little housewife fantasy then, well, you’d have to eventually. König hates the thought of hurting you – but he also hates a lot of things about himself and a bit of pain won’t add to much. He could handle you being upset, easily. He could handle whatever you’d throw at him – literally. 

— I don’t think I can move in with you. 

— Why? 

— I’m not even Austrian. Don’t think I can just go and live in your country like this. 

— You can get a visa through marriage. It would be easy, soldiers have privileges. 

He still was a part of Austrian special forces – even if his service was long ago paid to KorTac, it doesn’t mean that he just gave away all of his documents and privileges that it gave him. There are a bit of things he can do without looking at the law too much – and giving you proper citizenship is one of them. 

Of course, it would also mean you can’t possibly leave him without destroying your new life once again, but…he likes it as a feature. Insurance that you won’t just run away as soon as the opportunity strikes. 

— Marriage is too fast, no? I mean…

— You don’t want to be with me! — No. Yes. I…I mean, we can’t get married right now. 

— We are not doing it right now, Schatz. I still yet to find a good ring around here. 

— I don’t want a ring. I…I can’t marry you, even in a couple of months! We barely know each other, we…we talked about it, you promised that we would go slow…

Oh. 

And now you’re crying in his hold, tears smearing your face as you are trying to make him let go of you. He can’t have that, he won’t have that – he just got out of his office. countless hours spent in searching for the biggest hideout in this city. Horangi fed him with reports of various sightings, Hutch is already halfway on breaking another data package they got from the last mission and, if anything, it felt like another week or two in here – and he could finally get that sweet, sweet leave. 

Come to think of it, he hadn’t had any breaks in a year already – only a week when he got shot in the side and spent a couple of days laying in the medical, still screaming at the recruits for being so fucking unprofessional – so much, in fact, that he had to get out of the bed early and spend two weeks as an instructor for any of those useless fuckers. Maybe, after this mission, he could take a month or so off – just so he could spend more time with you. Honeymoon and a future wedding do sound fun if he could make you come around before the end of his deployment here. He wouldn’t want to kidnap his future wife like some asshole, after all. 

— How slow do you want me to go, meine Mädchen? 

There isn’t a right answer to this question. He doesn’t ask whether or not you even want to marry him – just when. Your perfect answer would be no, I don’t know, give me a break and let me figure myself out for at least a dozen months so you could come to your senses and move to some distant country on the other side of the globe. 

But he holds you close, his erection is mere inches away from penetrating your body – he is grinding into your ass shamelessly, using the softness of your thighs as his own sex toy – and your mind becomes dizzy. Every time he touches you, his fingers trail on your delicate skin, and you feel dumb. No thought, head empty, only desire to back your hips against his crotch and move a little. 

— I don’t know. Just not…not like this. 

— Then like what? How long should I wait? 

A month won’t be enough. 

Even half a year won’t be enough to process your feelings. 

— I don’t know. 

You want to say yes, but you don’t want to be the one to decide. Having responsibility is too much, and being the one in charge of yourself isn’t something you really want. Maybe, you should just agree. Maybe, you don’t have enough energy to process this. 

— We don’t have much time here, Liebe. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…

His hands are gripping you even closer – his fingers are shaking almost, and you’re scared of seeing this man being so weak for you, but there isn’t anything you can do to help him. Your fingers are softly caressing his – you doubt that he can feel much under his gloves, but you want to be at least attentive. You don’t want him to feel bad, to think that you are ungrateful for everything he has done to help you. Maybe you’re afraid of making him mad – or, maybe, you want him to be closer to you. Maybe, you want him to like you more. Maybe…

— I will probably be there for another week or two. Mission will be over sooner than we thought. 

— You will leave? 

König wants to lie to himself that you feel sad about it. He can hear the pain in your voice, the way your fingers are shaking on top of his. He hates being weak, scared, he purged everything that was liable in his body before he even became the colonel – but he stays here, in this run-down kitchen corner of your apartment, looks at your delicate body in his hands and feels weak. 

Not that you will say no, that you can run away. He is terrified of himself because he knows that he won’t take no for an answer. He will get you out of here, haul you on his shoulder like some sort of trophy, and make you his no matter the kicking and screaming he will receive. And he doesn’t want to let himself go around you – to lose control. 

— Not without you. 

— I don’t want to leave. 

He squeezes your waist one more time, letting go of your body. He can be patient – he needs to concentrate on the mission at hand anyway, not being all lovey and romantic with you. He may give you space – a few centimeters at best, maybe, if you would a good girl and give him everything he asks for. 

— You can have a week to think. But I will be back, verstehen? 

You nod and he turns your head to the side, kissing you. He has to lean down to reach your lips, he is too fucking desperate to taste you on his tongue when he moves it further down your throat. It’s sloppy, unexperienced, the technique is basically non-existent but you clung to the counter and moan as he slides his hands down your shorts, finding your center. It’s moist, slippery, welcoming two of his fingers with ease – and then he withdraws it immediately. 

You whine when he stops moving, and your pussy is clenching around nothing when he chuckles. You’re weak, fragile, desperate and delicate – he isn’t used to handling stuff like you, but he will make sure to find all the bubble wrap in the world to use on you. He’ll be your perfect husband – if only you would give him a chance. 

— Gather your things, lamm. Don’t bring too much, you’ll find better things in Austria. 

— But…

— You’ll like it, I promise. Do you trust me? 

— N…no. 

— You will. 

He leaves you in your apartment after a few minutes of just…looking at you. Eyes wandering on your shaking body, fear and desire mixing on your face – he is soft with you, but you know that this softness comes with a responsibility that you could not handle. 

You went to the bathroom to wash your face and calm down a little bit – everything in your body begged you to run after him and scream for him to take you right here and then – and you look at the sink. That fucking sink. 

*** Maybe, you shouldn’t have had this conversation with him so late in the evening – you decided to go out of your apartment to clean your head. 

Maybe, he shouldn’t have fixed your sink because when you didn’t have to think about problems in your apartment, you actually had time and energy to go out at night again. 

Maybe, he shouldn’t have left you here is such disarray – maybe, if you had actually fuck that night, you wouldn’t have the strength to venture into creepy alleys and pass through crowds of weird, scary people. 

Maybe…

— Stand right here, missy. 

— Saw you with that asshole in the hood a while ago. How does it feel to betray your country? 

— I thought our women knew better than whoring themselves with foreign scum. 

— She can have him to come to us. 

— Think he would come to get his slut? 

— He’d have to. All hostages are good in our situation. 

Maybe, if you won’t tell him to at least wait before making you his, you wouldn’t get into the hands of terrorists that he was supposed to fight.

[beautysurvives]

pre-series Dean wants his father to save him but knows that he won’t, so he goes to Sam. He wants his brother to save him but he knows that he can’t. Then an angel saves him instead, and Dean won’t let himself believe it.

The angel saves him over and over and over — and Dean is sure that at some point the rug will be pulled out from under him, because it always is. Cas dies for him and comes back to life — and Joshua says that was God saving Dean by saving Cas.

And then after Sam and Adam fall into the cage, after Cas dies for him again and is brought back for him again, Dean goes from not thinking he deserves to be saved to not wanting to be saved. The way he’s been “not wanting” anything all season — pretty much his entire life. The person who really changed that for him — gave him hope — was Cas. But he’s only part of the equation! Dean has to do some of the work in valuing himself too, but like Lisa says, he has a habit of thinking that everything has to be either or. All or nothing. Wanting it to be simple. “Pure” like purgatory.

And it’s just. Like. The entire concept of “being saved” — knowing that a relationship with a specific person outside of your family could be the thing that saves you. in almost every case, for Dean, it feels like someone’s life was exchanged for his — and that’s not really being saved!!! That’s its own kind of cage!

Being truly saved in spn is being free!!!! Getting a chance to determine your identity for yourself!!!! Being with someone who will let you make your own choices and support you through them!!!! But you won’t let yourself have that because of all the people who are not free “because of you” ie for your sake — because you think that enjoying your life would be an insult to them. Because you think you’re supposed to repent forever. So he goes to Lisa’s door—

Being with Cas would’ve freed him!!!!!!!!!!!!

And it’s only after Dean accepts that he can be saved without being punished for it that he starts trying to live his for himself (tw season 15)

Once again, Cas died for him without demanding anything in return, and Dean can finally accept that he is worth it and allowed to appreciate it by doing whatever he wants because he knows and accepts who he is now

When he was with Lisa, he knew he was not being his authentic self, and she knew it too. It was another transactional relationship

The show is about saving Dean!!!!! It’s about allowing him the freedom to figure out who he is and not forcing him to choose between black and white. It’s about what it means that he’s drawn to the aspect of the hunter lifestyle that’s constantly moving, constantly changing your name, constantly pretending to be someone else, living off the grid.

It’s about his queerness, and his gender and him knowing that he doesn’t have to choose between becoming either his mom or his dad — not having to conform to the traditional roles that they killed themselves to squeeze into — and allowing himself to finally fully actualize his identity by not just leaving Chuck’s story once and for all, but leaving behind his role as “older brother” to Sam. Leaving his physical body (to maybe be born again?)

And at the risk of sounding pro-finale (because don’t get me wrong I do truly hate the bury your gays of it all and I think there were a million better ways to do what I’m about to accuse them of doing) — his death is his freedom in the sense that it’s his transition (yes, this whole post was written in service of my transfem Dean headcanon)

He has always been a person that doesn’t easily fit into one category or another, and that’s always been in his DNA as a character!!!! He is ambiguous and hard to label and saving him is freeing him from the confines of the narrative, the expectations of the audience, and the narrow definitions assigned to him by the patriarchal heteronormative container of network television!!! It’s letting him leave and most importantly it’s allowing him to make his own show (The Winchesters perhaps…..)

Okay now read this quote from I saw the tv glow (spoiler warning):

I told myself… “This isn’t normal. This isn’t normal.” This isn’t how life is supposed to be. I thought about running away again. About moving to Santa Fe and changing my name one more time. But I knew that everywhere would be just the same. I had seen how it ended. I knew where I was. A little bit after my 22nd birthday, I paid this burnout kid who used to hit on me in the food court $50 to bury me alive. I mean… he didn’t know he was burying me alive, but I doubt he would have cared too much even if he did. I bought a coffin. I dug a hole. I got inside and I closed the lid. I said to myself, “This is crazy.” “What you’re doing is crazy.” But another part of me knew that it wasn’t. That it was survival. And that I didn’t have much time. That what felt like years in this world was actually just seconds. So I waited. And then finally, the first spadeful of dirt hit the top of the box. And then another. And then another. I sang songs to myself. I counted to 10,000 without skipping any numbers. I pissed and I shit my pants and I forced my mouth to produce whatever saliva it could muster just so I would have something to drink. I screamed as loud as I could for help. I apologized for the whole thing. And I begged God for someone to come along and save me. I tried and tried to claw my way out, but that burnout guy had packed the dirt in too tight just like I had asked him to do. And then, after I don’t know how long, I felt myself start to leave myself. And it was like I was watching myself on TV from across the room. And I was moving further and further away from the screen until the screen was so small that I couldn’t even see myself anymore.

And then I was clawing my way up out of the ground. And then I was at the surface, gasping for air, rain pouring down on me. Thunder and lightning. And I was finally back there. Back at our old sleepaway camp. And just like I was waking up from a bad dream, that whole life… that whole reality where I was Maddy Wilson…drifted away. Like a brief hallucination that, after a few moments, I could hardly even remember. And all those memories that had felt so real washed away with the rain back at our old sleepaway camp. And I was me. I was finally me again. And it was the season six premiere. I tried looking for you, but Mr. Melancholy had covered his tracks too well. I knew you must be buried somewhere close by, but I didn’t know where. And your signal… That signal that I used to be able to close my eyes and feel so vividly… was nowhere. I wasn’t picking up anything on the psychic plane. I found my heart. Isabel, oh, my God! I found yours, too. And it was still beating, stored indefinitely in… (breathing heavily) In an industrial freezer! I left our hearts there because I knew I wasn’t done yet. And I found Mr. Melancholy’s cauldron. I found the Luna Juice he used to send us to the Midnight Realm, then I took a big sip straight out from the ladle. And I laid back down… and I waited to fall back asleep. I knew I needed to come back here. I knew I needed to come back and save you. So that the show can continue. So that we can get to season six.

Okay and now this quote

Jane Schoenbrun creator of I Saw the TV Glow):

To get Owen to a place of true self-love and self-acceptance would take at least another movie. I knew that I wanted it to be really honest to the fact that just because you've now finally seen yourself clearly doesn't mean that half a lifetime of damage that repression has instilled in you is going to go away. I don't view it as a cautionary tale or a definitively sad ending; I just think it's truthful to the fact that if you've been taught your whole life to think of yourself as an imposter or apologize for being yourself, like many trans people are, that instinct doesn't go away overnight.

[marsplastic13]

'Complicated' (part 12) - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn. Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names) Genre: modern AU, slow burn word count: 7.4k notes: didn't realize how many things happen in this part until right now, take a long breath

@millercontracting @coldmermaidhologram @syd649 @luffysprincess @cryptidghostgirl @beekeepingageissome @hufflepuff-16

tw: panic attack, mention of past abusive relationships, mention of past abuse

The next few days were chaotic for Kaz. He was working around the clock on a crucial deal, frustration mounting as complications arose. The thought of kidnapping everyone involved and locking them in a room until they reached an agreement crossed his mind more than once. His phone buzzed constantly, mostly with messages from Inej, urging him to join her in some remote corner of the world. Meanwhile, Jesper was relentless in his demands for attention, insisting on planning their joint birthday party. If being best friends wasn’t enough, they even shared the same birthday.

In the midst of this whirlwind, a message from Y/n made him pause. She had sent him two pictures of herself in different swimsuits, asking, 'Can’t decide the color'.

Kaz took a moment to study the images, appreciating her form and the swimsuits that highlighted it. The first one, a sleek black number, hugged her curves in all the right places, exuding a sense of sophistication and allure. The second, a vibrant red, contrasted beautifully with her skin, giving her a playful yet seductive appearance. His eyes traced the lines of her body, lingering on the way the fabric accentuated her waist and the gentle curve of her hips. He could almost feel the texture of the swimsuits under his fingertips, the thought sending a shiver down his spine.

Without much thought, he transferred 800 kruge to her, labeling the transaction ‘Both.’

Almost immediately, she replied, ‘I don’t think you know swimsuit prices.’

Kaz smirked at her response, typing back, ‘Do you need more?’

‘It’s too much!’ she protested.

‘I’m sure you’ll find something else to buy,’  he replied, feeling a rare sense of lightness.

‘:)’ was her only answer, but it was enough to make him smile.

He leaned back in his chair, momentarily forgetting the pressures of the deal, Inej’s incessant texts, and Jesper’s party plans. The thought of Y/n in those swimsuits lingered in his mind, a welcome distraction from the chaos.

With a sigh, Kaz returned to his negotiations, determined to push through the obstacles. But the images of Y/n, and the playful banter that accompanied them, stayed with him, a reminder of the choices and feelings he needed to confront.

***

Finally, after days, the deal was closed, and Kaz could breathe. As the car started moving, he undid his tie, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. The pressure had been immense, and now he just wanted to share this victory with Y/n. He dialed her number, anticipation buzzing in his chest.

“We fucking did it, love, I’m free,” he announced, his voice filled with excitement.

“I’m so happy for you, baby,” she replied, but her voice was strained.

Kaz immediately picked up on it. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Due to poor scheduling, I had two very… demanding clients one after the other, and I’m exhausted.”

Hearing her talk about her job always stirred a rush of jealousy in Kaz. He hated the thought of her with other men, even if it was just for work. He clenched his jaw, trying to push the feeling aside.

“I wanted to take you out for dinner,” he said, hoping to distract himself with the idea of spending a relaxing evening with her.

“Can we do tomorrow, baby? I can’t move,” she sounded genuinely worn out, and his heart softened.

“Sure,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. “Come here?” she asked, her voice softening.

“Already on my way,” he replied without hesitation.

Y/n was wearing his underwear and a white crop top with ‘Virgin’ written on it. Her hair was up, and her eyes were half-closed, and Kaz thought she had never looked more beautiful. She got on her toes, linking her arms behind his neck to kiss him. “Hi,” she murmured against his lips, and he felt his knees ready to give in.

“I got you pizza. I think it’ll be here in 10 minutes,” she said, leading him to her room.

“Thank you, love. You didn’t have to,” Kaz replied.

Y/n shrugged, collapsing on her bed. Only in contrast with the white sheets he notice the bruises around her body. “What happened to you?” he asked, concerned.

“Very demanding clients, I told you.”

Kaz sighed, torn between wanting to know more and not wanting to know anything at all. “Y/n, did they hurt you?”

“Well, not intentionally. Don't worry, Kaz; it was really good,” she said, closing her eyes and resting her head on his lap.

His hands gently brushed against her bruises, trying to keep his thoughts in check. “Were you enjoying it?” The question came out harsher than he intended.

“Yes,” she said simply.

‘More than me?’ The words were on the tip of his tongue, ready to dangerously roll out, leading to really uncomfortable conversations. He sighed; they were both too tired for meaningless fights. Yes, he could get mad about her job, but then what? There was no point.

“Were you safe?” he decided to ask.

“Of course. I trust them. I don't do certain things with strangers or with new clients.”

Kaz hummed, stroking her hair. “Tell me about your deal, come on,” she encouraged him without opening her eyes.

He told her a summary of what had gone down in the past days, and she looked genuinely interested. They opened the pizza in bed, accompanied by a very expensive bottle of wine that surely deserved to be tasted on other occasions rather than with greasy pizza, on a bed, drinking directly from it.

“There's cheese on it. What are you going to eat?” he asked, shoving half a slice into his mouth.

“I'm just going to inhale deeply the smell and drink wine.”

"Y/n, cut the bullshit and eat," he said firmly, his concern for her health evident in his voice.

"Rude," she retorted, but he could hear the weariness in her tone.

He leaned forward slightly, meeting her tired gaze. "Y/n," he began softly, "I know you're tired. But you need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," she insisted, her voice quieter now, almost defeated.

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration and worry mingling within him. "Don't make a scene, love," he murmured.

Y/n sighed, exhaustion and resignation crossing her features. "I won't eat that; it looks disgusting," she protested weakly, avoiding his gaze.

"Just get something from your fridge," Kaz suggested, trying to keep his tone gentle despite his growing concern.

He watched as Y/n finally relented, disappearing into the kitchen. When she returned with a banana, Kaz felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Happy?" she asked, her tired eyes meeting his.

"Very much," Kaz replied, smiling softly.

After finishing their meal, Kaz and Y/n settled back into bed, finding comfort in each other's presence. Y/n lay on her back with Kaz's chest as her pillow, both absorbed in watching an episode of House on her tablet. Kaz absentmindedly traced patterns on her body, his mind finally relaxing after the past long days.

Lost in his thoughts, Kaz slid one hand under Y/n's shirt, a gesture that had become familiar between them. But this time, unlike before, he felt her flinch, a subtle but unmistakable reaction that instantly brought him back to the present.

“Y/n, is everything okay?” he asked gently, withdrawing his hand immediately.

“I… I won’t be able to have sex tonight, or anything else,” she blurted out quickly, her words rushed and tinged with anxiety.

Kaz remained calm, his concern growing as he sensed her distress. “It’s fine, Y/n. I’m pretty tired too,” he reassured her, trying to keep his voice steady despite the unease stirring within him.

But Y/n's breathing quickened, each breath coming in shallow gasps as if she couldn't get enough air. Kaz's worry deepened. “Hey, what's going on?” he asked softly, reaching out to gently touch her arm.

“I’m sorry, I can try if you want, but I-” Her voice trembled with panic, her eyes darting away.

“Are you listening to me? I said it’s fine, love,” Kaz insisted, shifting slightly to try and meet her gaze. He could see the fear in her eyes, as if she had seen a ghost.

Y/n suddenly moved away from him, her eyes fixed on him but seemingly unfocused. She started repeating apologies frantically, tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably.

“Everything is fine, you’re with me,” Kaz tried to reassure her, his voice soft and soothing, though uncertain of how to handle the situation.

“I know what you want from me, and I can’t… I can’t-” Her words were choked with emotion, her distress palpable.

“I don’t want anything, Y/n,” Kaz said firmly but gently, reaching out to hold her hand. “Just try to breathe. You’re safe here.”

Her panic seemed to intensify, her breaths erratic and shallow. Kaz's heart sank, feeling utterly helpless as he watched her struggle.

“Y/n, you’re not breathing properly. What is going on?” he asked urgently, his concern deepening into a knot of worry in his chest.

Finally, she managed to focus on him again, her tear-streaked face etched with anguish. “I… I can’t do this,” she managed to say between sobs.

Kaz's mind raced, trying to piece together what could have triggered such a severe reaction. “It’s me, Y/n,” Kaz said softly, his voice unwavering despite the turmoil inside.

Tears continued to fall from her eyes as she struggled to regain control. “I am nothing for you,” she muttered, her wide eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. “You just want me for sex and tonight I can’t-”

Kaz's heart raced as he watched Y/n struggle through the grips of her panic attack. Her words cut through the air with a sharpness that betrayed her fear, leaving Kaz feeling utterly helpless. He knew that touching her might worsen the situation, but he couldn't bear to see her in such distress.

“Y/n, you’re having a panic attack,” Kaz interjected gently, hoping to ground her in reality. His voice, usually steady, now quivered slightly with concern as he tried to reach for her hand again.

Her breathing remained erratic, each gasp tearing at Kaz's own nerves. “Don’t touch me. Please, let me go,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Kaz withdrew his hand immediately, a pang of guilt and worry twisting in his chest. He felt a surge of anxiety rise within him, unsure of how best to support her through this overwhelming episode. The sight of her pain, both physical and emotional, weighed heavily on him.

“I won’t hurt you, Y/n,” Kaz reassured, his voice a whisper amidst her sobs. “You’ll be okay. Just breathe.”

Her panicked words continued to spill out, trapped in a loop of distress. “I can’t give it to you, I can’t- I'm so tired, please,” she repeated, her gaze unfocused and terrified.

Kaz's mind raced, desperately trying to understand what had triggered such a severe reaction. He knew Y/n's job was demanding and often brought emotional challenges, but this level of panic was new and alarming.

“I know I’m nothing for you, but please, I don’t want to-”

Before things could escalate further, Kaz made a quick decision. He needed help, someone who knew Y/n well. Without another word, he left the room swiftly, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he sought out her roommates.

He found one of them in the living room, concern etched on her face as she saw Kaz's distressed expression. Without hesitation, he explained the situation, his voice urgent yet measured.

“It’s Y/n,” Kaz began, his voice catching slightly with worry. “She’s having a panic attack. I don’t know what to do.”

Y/n's roommate nodded understandingly, her face softening with empathy. “I’ll come with you,” she said firmly, leading Kaz back towards Y/n’s room.

Together, they entered the room where Y/n lay curled up on the bed, hugging her legs, her breathing still uneven. Kaz hovered anxiously in the doorway, feeling both relief and apprehension at having someone else there to help.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Y/n's roommate spoke softly, her voice a soothing balm in the tense atmosphere. “We’re here for you.” 

Kaz stood back, grateful to see Y/n in the care of someone she trusted. He was about to speak, but his words caught in his throat when Y/n's tear-streaked face turned towards her roommate. There was a mix of fear and relief flickering in her eyes.

“Please let me go,” Y/n's voice was weak and shaky. “I am not an object.”

Kaz felt shock ripple through him at her words. He hadn't expected this plea, hadn't realized the depth of her emotional turmoil. His heart skipped several beats, feeling guilt and concern pressing heavily on him. He stood frozen in the doorway, feeling helpless as he watched Y/n's tear-streaked face, her distress palpable.

“No, you’re not, baby,” her roommate's gentle voice broke through the tense air. “You’re home now, it’s safe. No one wants anything from you.”

Gradually, Y/n’s breathing began to steady, the intense panic subsiding as her roommate guided her through calming breaths. Kaz remained by the doorway, silently observing, his worry for Y/n still palpable. He felt like an intruder in this intimate moment of vulnerability.

“Are you coming back to us?” the roommate asked softly, and Y/n nodded faintly.

“Kaz is here, do you want him to stay?” Y/n turned towards him, her eyes searching and uncertain. She nodded again, and Kaz felt a mix of relief and trepidation at being allowed into her space during such a fragile moment.

“Can I leave you alone with him? I’ll be just outside,” the roommate offered, and Y/n nodded once more.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming out of it,” Y/n murmured weakly, her gaze still distant but slowly regaining focus.

Kaz stepped cautiously into the room, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He approached Y/n slowly, unsure of how to comfort her but wanting desperately to do something. He sat down gently beside her on the bed, keeping a respectful distance but close enough to offer support if needed.

He could see the embarrassment etched on her face, her cheeks flushed with shame. She avoided his gaze, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap.

“Hey,” Kaz began gently, breaking the uneasy silence between them. “There’s no need to feel embarrassed. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

Y/n let out a shaky breath, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kaz,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to... I just lost control. It was such a stressful day.”

Kaz reached out tentatively, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Y/n, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m just really worried about you.”

She finally looked up at him, tears still lingering in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice cracking with emotion, “My ex-boyfriend… he wasn’t the only abusive relationship I was in. I’m not used to people wanting to stay with me for more than sex.”

Kaz's heart sank even more, the weight of their complicated relationship pressing down on him like never before. He couldn't bear the thought of Y/n feeling used or undervalued, especially by him. The realization hit him hard, making him confront his own shortcomings.

Every promise he had made about leaving Inej, spoken in moments of vulnerability and passion, yet never followed through—each one now felt like a betrayal. He saw now how those empty assurances could have chipped away at her trust. Each time he had let Jesper's jokes about her job slide, dismissing them as harmless banter, he had unwittingly contributed to her feeling like she was only valued for her body.

The guilt was suffocating. He had been so caught up in his own struggles, his own fears, that he hadn't fully grasped the depth of hers. It wasn’t just about his complicated relationship with Inej or his clandestine meetings with Y/n. It was about seeing Y/n for who she truly was, beyond the surface, beyond the physical.

“Y/n, if I ever-”

“You didn’t, don’t worry.”

Kaz took a deep breath, steadying himself as he looked into her eyes. "I care about you. It's really important that you know that. For me, it's not just physical, Y/n."

"It would be so much easier if it was," she replied, her hand gently caressing his cheek. "Then you would hurt me, and I'd forget about you."

"I don't want this to end," he whispered back, his voice raw with emotion.

"Can we sleep now?" she asked, her voice small and tired.

"I just want to make sure you’re okay," Kaz insisted firmly, his concern unwavering. Y/n nodded slowly, her shoulders relaxing slightly under his touch.

“Are you sure nothing happened today?” Kaz pressed, his worry evident.

“Yeah, it was just heavy. I pushed too much, triggered old memories,” she admitted, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Are you sure they didn’t hurt you?” he asked again, his eyes searching hers for any signs of distress.

“Yes, Kaz, they were just both into violent stuff, and I screamed my lungs out all afternoon,” she explained.

Kaz frowned, puzzled. “Are you into it?” he asked, trying to understand.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you sure that you like sleeping with me?” He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “You’re used to all these weird things that I don’t know anything about.”

“Of course I like it, love,” Y/n finally smiled at him, her expression softening. “It’s totally different having sex with a client and doing it with—” she stopped, uncertainty written all over her face.

“With?” he encouraged her, pulling her into his arms, hoping to give her the reassurance she needed.

They stared at each other for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. “With a friend,” she offered softly, her voice filled with sincerity.

Kaz nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Bet they don’t cuddle you after.”

She laughed, the sound like a balm to his worried heart. Tracing his jaw with her fingers, she continued, “You’d be surprised at how many of them just want simple things. Take all those men that take me on trips—they don’t have time to have an actual girlfriend, be there for her, build a family. So they just pay me to do it. Laugh at their jokes, praise them in front of their colleagues. They just want a wave of fake normalcy. And I like being a girlfriend for a week or two; it’s all I can handle.”

Kaz listened intently, his heart aching for the life she described. He realized how different their worlds were, yet how much he wanted to be a part of hers. "I get it," he said softly. "But with me, it doesn't have to be fake. You deserve more than just a week or two of normalcy."

Y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with hope and fear. "I don’t know if I can handle more," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly.

Kaz held her closer, his resolve strengthening. “Nothing to decide right now.”

“I'm too tired to remind you how stupid this is.”

“Then shut up and go to sleep.”

Kaz woke up to what must have been the twentieth message she received. “I swear, I’m going to break your phone,” he muttered. Y/n had been awake for some time already, and he was resting his head on her stomach. With every new message, she giggled, making his head move slightly.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice full of amusement.

“Who is writing you all these messages at fucking sunrise?” he asked, annoyed, without opening his eyes.

“First of all, it’s 9 a.m.,” she corrected him. “Second, it’s Mother’s Day.”

“And you have a lot of children or a lot of mothers?” Kaz’s sarcasm was evident, his annoyance clear.

“Neither of them, actually. I have a lot of clients,” Y/n replied, playfully.

Kaz made a disgusted face, raising his head to look at her. “Hey, gorgeous,” she said, tilting her head to look at him before getting her attention back to her phone, giggling again.

“They’re really wishing you a happy Mother’s Day? It’s gross,” Kaz said, his tone laced with incredulity.

“It’s kind of sweet that all the men who sucked my tits feel the duty to wish me a happy Mother’s Day. You have no idea of the tips they’re sending me.” Y/n turned her phone to let him see the pile of notifications—messages and money transfers, one after the other.

Kaz stared at the screen, a mixture of shock and jealousy coursing through him. “It’s still weird,” he grumbled, resting his head back on her stomach. “And annoying.”

Y/n laughed softly, running her fingers through his hair. “I know it’s strange, but it’s just part of the job. They feel a connection, even if it’s superficial.”

Kaz closed his eyes, trying to block out the steady stream of notifications. “I don’t like it,” he admitted, his voice muffled against her skin.

“I know,” she said softly, her tone comforting. “But you don’t have to worry about them. They’re just clients.”

Kaz’s grip on her tightened slightly, his fingers tracing small circles on her side. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that,” he confessed.

Y/n put down her phone and cupped his face, making him look up at her. “You’re not just a client, Kaz. You’re my friend, and you mean a lot to me.”

He nodded, feeling a bit reassured. “Okay,” he said softly, leaning into her touch.

“Good,” she replied, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Kaz agreed, a small smile playing on his lips. “But if that phone goes off one more time…”

Y/n laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll put it on mute, just for you.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again and settling back down, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Come on, Kaz, wake up. It’s already past 11. How much are you going to sleep?” Y/n asked, her voice carrying a blend of impatience and amusement.

“All day,” Kaz mumbled, burying his face deeper into her abdomen.

“Oh, you’re even drooling on me. Disgusting,” she said, shoving him away gently.

“Sorry,” he replied, sitting up and wiping his mouth, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“You know I have a life other than spending time with you, right?” she teased, getting up and disappearing into her wardrobe.

“I thought you spent your days waiting for my texts,” he retorted, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, you wish. I have lunch with a friend, then I have to throw paint to a monument to protest against climate change, throw tear gas at the police, and I start work at 5,” she listed off, pulling out clothes and holding them up for inspection.

“Please don’t get arrested,” Kaz said, his tone carrying both genuine concern and exasperation.

“I can’t, I have to work. Are you listening to me?” She picked out an outfit and turned to him. “Do you think this works for lunch and saving the world?”

“Sure,” he replied absently, not really paying attention to the clothes but rather watching her with a fondness he didn’t often show.

“Do you want to come to the protest?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Absolutely not,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Climate change is not my problem.”

“What about your children? Or the children of your children?” she countered, raising an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled again, getting up and moving closer to her. He kissed her temple softly. “I’ll make sure not to have any.”

“Selfish,” she commented, rolling her eyes but smiling.

“What time are you off?” he asked, watching her as she finished getting dressed.

“Eight, I think,” she replied, checking her reflection in the mirror.

“Great, don’t make plans,” Kaz said, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

Y/n turned to him, a playful smirk on her lips. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

“You’ll see,” he said cryptically, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

***

‘I’m outside,’ Kaz texted her at 8 sharp, and waited, leaning casually against his brand-new bike. A smirk played on his lips as he heard the sound of her footsteps descending the stairs.

When Y/n saw him, she stopped in her tracks, her mouth falling open. “What in the mid-life crisis is that?” she exclaimed.

Kaz’s smirk widened. He stood proudly next to his bike, a sleek, black Ducati with gleaming chrome accents and a matte finish. 

“Kaz, you’re too young to have a mid-life crisis, you know that?” she teased, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Y/n circled the bike, taking in every detail. “Yeah, it’s so beautiful,” she said, admiration evident in her voice. “Oh, you even got the thing to hold your cane. I think we’re watching too much House, baby.”

Kaz made a crooked smile, appreciating her attention to detail. “Just an early birthday present from myself,” he shrugged nonchalantly, then offered her a helmet. “Want to go for a ride?”

Y/n looked at the helmet, then back at Kaz, her expression a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Yeah, but I’m fucking scared,” she laughed nervously. “Are you sure you can drive this thing?”

“Of course I can,” he assured her, his confidence unwavering. “Come on, trust me.”

She hesitated for a moment, then took the helmet from him, her fingers brushing against his. “Alright,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

Kaz helped her with the helmet, making sure it was secure before putting on his own. He mounted the bike with practiced ease and extended a hand to her. “Hop on,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Y/n climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. She could feel the powerful engine rumbling beneath her, the vibrations sending a thrill through her entire body.

“Ready?” Kaz asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Ready,” she replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

With a rev of the engine, they took off, the wind whipping around them as they sped through the city streets. Y/n’s initial fear melted away, replaced by exhilaration as they wove through traffic and took on the open road. Kaz’s confidence and skill were evident in every turn, every acceleration.

They rode for what felt like hours, the world blurring around them, a sense of freedom and adventure filling the air. Finally, Kaz brought the bike to a stop at a scenic overlook, the city lights twinkling below them.

Y/n removed her helmet, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed with excitement. “That was amazing,” she said breathlessly, her eyes shining.

Kaz smiled, his own heart pounding with exhilaration. “Told you it’d be fun,” he said, leaning in to kiss her softly.

She kissed him back, their surroundings fading away, leaving just the two of them in that perfect moment.

Kaz wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as they both took in the breathtaking view. The city lights below twinkled like stars, casting a serene glow over their moment of quiet togetherness. 

“Will you come to our birthday dinner?” he asked, his voice soft but hopeful.

Y/n glanced at him, then away, her gaze settling somewhere distant. “It would be weird, Kaz,” she said softly, her tone tinged with uncertainty.

“Why?” he pressed gently, not wanting to let the idea go just yet.

“Well, Jesper doesn’t like me, and it’s his birthday too. All of your friends will be there… I just don’t fit in the picture,” she explained, her voice carrying a trace of sadness.

“We’re friends, and it’s not true that he doesn’t like you,” Kaz tried, though even he knew his argument was weak.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in her eyes. “Come on, Kaz. You’ve heard the way he talks about me.”

Kaz sighed, knowing there was some truth to her words. “Jesper can be... opinionated. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”

“He thinks I’m a distraction, that I’m not good enough for you,” she insisted, her voice tinged with frustration.

“Jesper has his own issues,” Kaz said, trying to placate her. “He doesn’t always understand other people’s choices. But that doesn’t mean he dislikes you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know anyone apart from you and Jesper. It would be weird,” she insisted, the hesitation clear in her eyes.

“I won’t leave your side,” Kaz promised, his grip tightening slightly, a subtle plea in his words.

“It would be even weirder. You’re still in a relationship, Kaz,” she reminded him gently but firmly.

He sighed, frustration mingling with resignation. “Me and Inej haven’t talked in days,” he said dryly, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Come on, you know it too. They would start asking questions we don’t know how to answer, and it would be embarrassing. They’ll make me feel like shit,” her voice became smaller, a hint of sadness creeping in.

Kaz felt a pang of guilt and frustration. He didn’t want her to feel like an outsider, but he couldn’t deny the truth in her words. The complexities of their situation, the secrecy, the unspoken feelings—all of it created a tangled web that made simple things complicated. But he really wanted her to be with him on his birthday, to share that day with her.

Kaz pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. “I wish things were different,” he whispered, the words heavy with unspoken emotions.

“Do you really?” she replied softly, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Admit it, love. The lies, the sneaking out, the secrets—you’re enjoying it.”

Her words struck a chord within him. He opened his mouth to protest, but a wry smile crept onto his face. She knew him too well. The thrill of their clandestine meetings, the adrenaline rush of stolen moments—it was intoxicating, and he couldn’t deny it.

“Okay, you caught me,” he admitted with a chuckle. “There’s something about it that makes everything more intense. But it’s not just that.”

She tilted her head, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “I know. I feel it too. It’s exciting, and I like that it’s not serious. It takes the pressure off.”

Kaz felt a pang of frustration. “At least think about the party,” he urged, trying to keep his tone calm and persuasive.

“Kaz, your birthday party with all of your friends is a girlfriend-kind-of-thing, not a whatever-we-are-doing thing,” she replied, shaking her head. “If you broke up, I might have considered it, but come on, it’s too much even for me. And one time I babysat the kids of the married man I was hooking up with.”

He winced at her bluntness, but he couldn’t deny the truth in her words. “I know it’s complicated,” he admitted, his voice softer. “But I want you there with me. It would mean a lot.”

She sighed, her expression softening a bit. “I get that, Kaz. But I’m not ready to be paraded around in front of your friends, pretending everything is fine. Especially not when things between us are so... undefined. What are you going to say? Who am I?”

Kaz hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re someone I care about deeply. Someone who means a lot to me. Isn’t that enough?”

Y/n shook her head, her eyes filled with doubt. “It’s not that simple. Your friends will want details. They’ll want to know who I am and why I’m there. I don’t want to be put on the spot, and I don’t want to be judged.”

“I’ll handle it,” Kaz promised, his voice firm.

“Baby, please, it doesn’t make any sense. You know it, I know it, just let go,” Y/n pleaded, her tone gentle but resolute.

He sighed, a mixture of frustration and disappointment evident in his expression, “Fine.”

***

The day before his birthday, Kaz waited outside Y/n's apartment, glancing at his watch every few minutes. There was no sign of her car, and she was already pretty late. After a while, her familiar Mini turned the corner, and she parked almost straight, skidding slightly to a halt.

As soon as she got out of the car, Y/n started apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry for being late, Kaz.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a tennis racket?” he asked, puzzled.

“Oh, yeah. I’m seeing this guy who thinks tennis lessons count as dates. I'm pretty good too,” she replied nonchalantly, though she was still catching her breath.

“You’re pretty late,” he noted, trying to keep his tone light but failing to hide his annoyance.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” she said, taking his hand and leading him towards her flat. Once in her room, she started rummaging through her wardrobe, pulling out various outfits to find the perfect one for dinner. “I’ll be super quick, I swear.”

Kaz smiled as he reached into his jacket and pulled out four concert tickets, holding them up proudly. “Look what I found.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in delight. “Oh, saints, you found them? I’m going to kiss you!” she exclaimed, rushing over to him. She cupped his face, planting kisses all around it. “You’re amazing,” she kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” another kiss. “Fantastic,” she kissed his forehead. “I love you,” she kissed his lips.

Y/n turned to leave, Kaz gripped her wrist, pulling her back gently but firmly. “What did you just say?” he asked, his voice betraying curiosity and surprise.

The girl froze, slowly turning around, her eyes wide and her lower lip caught between her teeth. “What?” she asked, her voice unnaturally high.

“Care to say that again?” Kaz’s tone was gentle, but there was a serious undertone that made her heart race.

“Uh, thank you for the tickets?” she tried weakly, her eyes darting around the room, avoiding his intense gaze.

“Y/n,” Kaz repeated, his tone firmer, drawing her attention back to him. His eyes searched hers, filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh, you know what? I was lying, 100%. Can't stand you,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “Can I go have a shower? We're late,” she added, turning to leave again.

Kaz tightened his grip on her wrist, not letting her escape so easily. “Y/n, stop,” he said softly but insistently.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Kaz, please. Can we just drop it? It was a slip of the tongue. I didn't mean to say it.”

“But you did say it,” he countered, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I need to know if you meant it.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, clearly conflicted. The usually confident Y/n was visibly shaken, and for the first time since he had known her, Kaz saw her properly blush. “No, not as you think,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It was just a slip up.”

Kaz let go of her arm, still in shock. He watched as she hurriedly gathered her things, her movements quick and deliberate. Y/n really did get ready in record time, disappearing into the bathroom and emerging not much later with her usual confident demeanor restored. It was as if the vulnerable moment had never happened, and Kaz knew better than to push her with uncomfortable questions.

Hours later, the conversation was just a blur in the back of Kaz's foggy mind. “Stay on your knees, lift my hips,” Y/n instructed, arching her back in satisfaction. “Fuck, how can this feel even better?” he said, following her guidance. 

Y/n extended one of her legs to rest it on his shoulder. He barely registered the shift, too focused on the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. “Come closer, love,” she said between moans. Kaz immediately leaned in, marveling at her flexibility when her knee and shoulder almost touched under his weight. “Pilates is paying off, right?” she teased, noticing his amazed expression.

“Fuck, Y/n, please be mine,” he groaned, desperation lacing his voice.

“Yeah? I—” her smart reply died in her throat as his tongue began playing with her nipple. 

“I want to be with you, every day,” he murmured against her skin.

“Every day?” she echoed, her voice trembling with pleasure.

“Every damn day, Y/n. Please, let’s try it.”

“Why do you become so needy during sex?” she asked, her breath hitching as he continued.

“Because you deserve all of it. Move in with me,” he said, assaulting her neck with kisses, his pace never faltering.

“Sure, baby, whatever you want,” she replied, her voice heavy with lust and affection.

“I want everyone to know you're mine.”

“Am I?” she challenged, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Did I agree on that?”

“Since you can't make a decision, I'll take one for you,” he said with a possessive growl, his hands gripping her tighter.

Y/n smiled between quick breaths, cupping his face and kissing him deeply. “Then what?” she teased.

“Then you'll leave your job and spend the days throwing my money away,” he said, his voice low and intense.

“I don't know if it feels better what you do or what you say,” she admitted, her body arching into his touch. “Harder, love. Don't be scared, I won't break.”

Kaz obliged, increasing his intensity, his mind and body completely consumed by her. Every touch, every word, every shared breath solidified his desire to make her his in every way possible. He moved with purpose, his grip tightening on her hips as he thrust deeper, his eyes locked onto hers, drinking in every expression of pleasure that crossed her face.

“More, love, please, don’t stop talking,” she pleaded, her voice a mixture of desperation and ecstasy.

“You're everything to me, Y/n,” he murmured, his words punctuated by the rhythm of their movements. “I need you, every day, every night. I want to wake up next to you, fall asleep holding you.”

Her hands clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin as she pulled him closer, urging him to go harder, faster. “Yes, baby, just like that,” she moaned, her head falling back against the pillow, lost in the sensations he was giving her.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough with emotion. 

She responded with a cry of pleasure, her body trembling beneath him. Her voice hitched as a wave of ecstasy washed over her, her muscles tensing and then releasing in a shuddering climax.

He watched her, mesmerized by the sight of her unraveling beneath him, and it pushed him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he followed her into bliss, his own release crashing through him with an intensity that left him breathless.

For a few moments, they lay tangled together, their breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Kaz’s hands caressed her skin, his touch gentle and reverent. His mind was a mix of intricate thoughts, emotions swirling within him like a storm.

“Y/n, I—” he began, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

“Don’t,” she cut him off harshly, her tone sharp enough to slice through the intimacy of the moment.

Kaz sighed, looking at her. Her hair was a wild mess on the pillow, a halo of disarray framing her face. Her neck bore a small constellation of his bites, each mark a testament to their passion. It was really difficult to concentrate on rational thoughts when she looked so utterly captivating.

“But—” he tried again, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“I’ll run away if you say it,” she warned, her eyes flashing with fear and determination.

Kaz paused, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see the conflict in her eyes, the war between her desire to stay close and her instinct to push him away. He knew this was a delicate moment, one that required careful handling.

“Alright,” he conceded softly, his hand tracing a soothing path along her arm. “Would you? Move in with me?”

Y/n sighed, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. “Why do you want to rush things?”

“We could be roommates,” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “I promise I’m not that messy.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s complicate things a bit more,” she replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“That’s the spirit, love,” he said, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “I won’t leave my job, Kaz. You know that, right?”

“I’ll keep checking,” he replied, his tone serious despite the playful banter. He wanted her to know that he was committed to supporting her, no matter what.

Y/n hummed softly, resting her head on his chest. “I can’t stop thinking about all the fun things I’m going to teach you. I’ll make you my perfect toy boy.”

Kaz chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. “Toy boy? I’m older than you, you know.”

“Shut up,” she retorted, smacking his chest lightly. “Age doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ll learn.”

“Learn what, exactly?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, so many things,” she purred, her voice taking on a teasing edge. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Kaz felt a rush of excitement at her words. Despite the complexities of their relationship, the idea of exploring new experiences together was undeniably appealing. “I’m looking forward to it,” he admitted, his voice low and sincere.

“I am crazy for how talkative you become once you start to get loose,” she said, tracing patterns on his chest with her finger.

Kaz laughed softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I suppose you bring that out in me.”

“Good to know,” she replied with a playful grin, leaning up to press a kiss against his chin.

He captured her lips in a gentle kiss, savoring the taste of her. 

***

Kaz waited anxiously through the entire birthday dinner, hoping that Y/n would change her mind and show up. Even that morning, she had assured him she didn’t, but still, he held onto a flicker of hope. Throughout the evening, everyone kept asking about Inej, and Kaz did his best to dodge the questions. Their texts had grown increasingly sparse, and she had only called briefly to wish him a happy birthday while Y/n was still asleep next to him.

After dinner, the plan was to meet at the Crow Club. Naturally, the birthday boys went together, and that year it was Kaz’s turn to stay somewhat sober and drive. They were halfway there when Y/n called him. Kaz answered from the car, his heart skipping a beat. “Y/n, you’re on speaker. Jesper’s here.” He really hoped that she had changed her mind and was ready to join the rest of the party.

But her voice trembled, sending a chill down his spine. “Aleksander, where are you taking me?”

Kaz and Jesper exchanged puzzled looks. “Relax, doll, it’s just a drive,” the unfamiliar voice replied.

“You kidnapped me, you’re pointing a gun at me and driving like a madman. I tend to worry in these situations,” Y/n’s voice quivered with fear.

Kaz’s blood ran cold. He exchanged a worried glance with Jesper, who was now just as tense.

“You know I would never hurt you, doll,” Aleksander said with a sinister calm.

“I’m pretty sure you already broke two of my ribs,” she shot back, the fear barely masked by her sarcasm.

Kaz and Jesper paled at the sound of a sinister laugh on the other end of the line. “I did it for you, so maybe you’ll stop being a stupid slut.”

“Where are we going?” Y/n asked, her voice a mixture of fear and defiance.

“To our place, of course.”

“Maybe I need a reminder. You know, I have so many boyfriends to keep track of,” she said, trying to buy time.

“You know where,” Aleksander responded ominously.

“Alex,-” her voice cut off sharply.

“Are you on the phone with someone? You fucking whore,” Aleksander snarled.

They heard the noise of a commotion, then Y/n’s piercing scream, “It’s at the old lighthouse, Kaz, please help me!”

The phone call ended abruptly, leaving a deafening silence in the car. 

[kit-williams]

Yandere Konrad

tw: baby trapping, Konrad Curze/Night Haunter having unhealthy interpersonal relationships, obsession, yandere

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

I took Liberties with the word night haunter in nostroman using the latin of the word haunted: Uada and adding the prefix from this "asha" which is theorized to be first person so its more so "I haunted"

He coos at you his little scribe... he remembers first meeting you... your eyes sparkled so brightly. You weren't from Nostromo so he tried to not judge so harshly... your being... your presence... your aura... tasted sweeter and clean when you were in his presence doing what you were told. Being good till he remembers hesitating one time trying to remember what Father had called him and you opened your mouth for a moment before closing it. It wasn't your job to speak it was your job to listen and write.

"What is it little scribe." He spoke.

He could hear the way you swallowed your saliva the nervousness in your heartbeat, "Do you have another title you go by?"

You were the first Scribe to ask that, "Solruthis Uadasha. The Night Haunter in gothic." He replied as he watched you pull out a smaller journal and scribble it down quickly. His eyes watched the way your mouth tried to mimic the same words and sounds. He moved closer and closer gently correcting your pronunciation of his name.

"Do you prefer to be called this?"

"Yes."

You just nod as he sees you read over something and smile. "Few smile like that when learning my name little scribe." He speaks calmly.

"It is probably because I am not Nostroman that I find it appealing. Also the fact your name starts with Sol." He did not stop you so you continued oblivious to the darkness in his eyes, "Sol is the name for the star in the Terra system. And if you shorten your name to Sol well I find it very fitting to be in the presence of a sun." You said dooming yourself with a smile.

Sol and Uada is how you shortened his name; when he let you. His skin crawled pleasantly when you called him Sol with such tender affection as you were so easily distracted away from noticing the madness filling his gaze. You hardly noticed how fewer and fewer scribes would be working for important events... oh it was far too late when you noticed how close to the gates of hell you were.

Sex upon Nostromo was always a transaction... that was not the case for you. You had no ulterior wants when you let the Primarch ruin your body. "Sol... Sol...Sol..." You would chant and slur out as his body would rock against yours or as you bounced down on him. He was no better than any of the scum on his home planet as he took so much more from you during sex. Boundaries you tried to keep up crumbled under his wills and want and besides... few could say they took a primarch raw.

You didn't know yet. It was clear to the Primarch as you sat with the other scribes... you didn't know what half of the transaction he had given you. He tried to warn you that sex always was a transaction upon Nostromo... you simply wanted the emotional connection and to express your affection for the Primarch in such a human way... what he wanted? To give you his baby. To keep you by his side.

He found you sitting in the bathroom in your room retching up your breakfast as his eyes look over the recent medica report just sitting on your desk with the blood work telling them that you were pregnant. You look up at him with a soft whimper, "Sol, Please don't be mad." He allowed himself to be caught holding your recent medica report.

His face not betraying his giddiness he felt , his voice not betraying the way his hearts rushed with excitement. You wouldn't leave now. "My little Sorsollia... why would I be mad?" He moves far more like a creature with the way he cocks his head to the side as he slowly moves closer and closer as she lets him enter the space... crouching with ease as he grins as he nuzzles the top of her head, "I figured I was unable to create in this way." He tilts her head up slightly, "I should be asking... are you mad at me?"

Your sparkling eyes look away for a moment but unlike his brother Fulgrim he knows his prey so well... your eyes return to meet his own, "No... I'm not mad. It's just an accident." Your mouth hangs open as sadness fills your scent, "I've... I've ruined my career." You cover your face with your hands. "I... I... I... I'll be utterly blacklisted." You say as your fear and despair tastes so delightful as he pulls you closer to him. "I don't know what to do." You say as you start to cry just confused... so far away from what you know...

"Shhh shh Sorsollia... " He has you look up at him again, "Have you forgotten whom the father is?" He trills as his accent thickens just leaning in and kissing her neck... trailing up to kiss those tears away as he moves with ease out of the confined space. "I will take care of this... this should be seen as something to be celebrated. " He croons as he carries you off trying not to wickedly grin at how he's insured that you cannot and will not want to leave his side.

[ithaquasbbg]

I’m back :3

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Frederick Kreiburg | Composer general relationship headcanons

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Tw: Brief mentions of mental illness but that’s it.

Extra: I love this guy so much I wish he was a little more popular among the fandom :,))

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|🩷| Starting off generally- Frederick seems like the type to be hard to get to know. He doesn’t have large amounts of trust for the people around him, and seems to prefer to be on his own. You’d need to put in effort in order to be in a relationship with him.

|🩷| He’s somewhere between pretty and handsome, though probably leaning a little more towards the feminine side.

|🩷| Frederick is insecure when it comes to his looks, often worrying that you’d only be interested in his looks instead of him as a person. You can compliment his appearance, but he might start getting anxious if that’s the only thing you pull attention to.

|🩷| Sure, he’s been in relationships and flings with many people before, he does have a reputation for wooing people. However, he’s never truly been loved by another person. Because of this, he probably is inexperienced in terms of real romantic acts.

|🩷| On top of his, his childhood doesn’t seem like it was very loving, and he may close up when met with physical affection or kisses for a while. When it happens, he often stares dumbfounded for a while. (It’s cute, but a little sad at the same time)

|🩷| He’s very fond of gift giving, though that’s largely because it’s what he’s used to. At the beginning of a relationship he’d likely believe it to be transactional like his past ones and in turn treats it that way.

|🩷| Though as he gets more comfortable his gifts slowly become less monetary in terms of value, and he’d instead compose and play songs for you as his gifts.

|🩷| When it comes to receiving, he’d likely take time to understand why you’re doing things for him, but he’d be very happy with words of affirmation or acts of service. Remind him that he’s valuable to you because he’s himself, not because he gives you things.

|🩷| In all honesty he strikes me as being potentially on the autism spectrum (self projecting a little) and he may not handle touch well due to sensory problems, but occasionally even he’ll find himself longing to hold onto another person.

|🩷| Frederick is not a fan of PDA, and would rather not be touched in public. This is in part due to him being rather touch adverse, but also because he was raised to be very prim and proper, and likely didn’t receive public affection as a child.

|🩷| That being said, on days where he’s willing to touch you and you’re both in private he probably is quite reserved about it. Making excuses to make contact with you such as “you have a hair in your face”.

|🩷| Occasionally he’ll hug you from behind and bury his head into your shoulder or hair depending on the height difference between you two. Hes on the taller side (I’d guess around 5’11- 6’1) and would probably resort to the latter.

|🩷| In terms of big spoon and little spoon… he’s not a spoon. Frederick is a knife.

|🩷| In all seriousness he’s simply not the most cuddly person ever, but will cuddle occasionally. Because of how touch adverse he tends to be you usually let him initiate it, and he typically ends up as the big spoon.

|🩷| He can make a really good little spoon too, especially if he’s the more submissive PERSONALITY (not freaky… this is a holy x reader blog for now!!) in a relationship. Though even then you’d likely need to pull him into that position after he’s fallen asleep, he’d be too embarrassed to be awake in that position.

|🩷| He strikes me as a closeted bisexual, perhaps pansexual. I wouldn’t see him being entirely opposed to polyamorous relationships, but I think he’d likely feel much more secure in a monogamous relationship.

|🩷| He’s a good kisser when he’s open to kissing, probably one of the things he’s the most experienced with in terms of relationships.

|🩷| On top of that he can be quite charming, he knows how to use his words to woo a person through past experiences. Though even then, don’t expect anything too bold from him.

|🩷| Frederick is decisive and can be quite stubborn, he likes to be the one making choices and can come off a little bratty in these situations. But truth be told, he simply wants to know that you respect his thought process and opinions. Please let him make choices from time to time, it really makes him feel more appreciated.

|🩷| He’s an easy person to fluster if you know what buttons to press. Public intimacy is a good shortcut to flustering him some days (going back to this topic. Whoops.) Frederick is pale, and there’s no way to hide the blush on his cheeks.

|🩷| His favorite nicknames for you are probably quite tame if he even uses them. The only one I could really see him using is the occasional “dear”

|🩷| Though you may catch him calling you “his angel” from time to time.

|🩷| Frederick strikes me as somebody who you would call things like “darling” and he’d enjoy it. You could call him “sweetheart” but he’d likely just be confused on why anyone would consider him of all people sweet.

|🩷| Due to his mental health struggles he’s probably somebody who needs a partner willing to put in lots of energy, but he’d totally give 110% back in return.

|🩷| Frederick can function on his own especially after being disowned. This comes out when you’re sick the most, he’ll make you food or drinks and stay by your side as much as he’s able to.

|🩷| His hair would likely be quite nice to play with, and with enough convincing he would probably allow you to fidget with it while he does other things. It’s the least overstimulating type of touch for him, and he’d appreciate your contact even if it’s only through that. :)

[sagethegaywitch]

Yandere Savanaclaw Headcanons

GN reader

TW: yandere behavior, killing mentioned, stalking, threatening mentioned

Genre: yandere

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Lenoa Kingscholar: 🦁

Because of him always being the second choice, when he decided that he liked you, he also decided that he will finally get what he wants.

While he may appear lazy and disinterested, he spends his hours adamantly stalking you.  When others think he’s sleeping in the greenhouse, he’s actually watching you from the windows of the classrooms.  He’s very sneaky, but he’s almost been caught by some teachers a couple of times.

Will use his power as Housewarden to force his dorm members to keep an eye on you when he can’t, but he usually trusts Ruggie with that task.  He will offer Ruggie money and food in exchange for your safety and not a word spoken about the transaction.

You will become closer friends with Ruggie because he’s always hanging around you when Leona is in his classes or taking a quick nap.

When you eventually become closer friends, he will offer to let you take naps with him.  He may seem nonchalant, but he’s secretly giddy inside as he takes you to his favorite napping spots.

Will use you as a body pillow, wrapping his arms around you and dangling his legs with yours.

His favorite sleeping positions include burying his face in your stomach while hugging your waist and having you rest on top of his chest with his arms wrapped around you.

Will spoil you, but will pass it off as a chore even though he gets you some really expensive stuff.

He’ll gift you a nice bracelet that he had shipped all the way from Sunset Savanna, but he’ll just say it's because his brother sent him an extra by accident.

Will put money in your lunch account so that you don’t have to pay for lunch anymore, but the cafeteria staff will only say that it was donated to you by a special someone.

He got you something nice for your birthday?  Oh, it’s only because it’s your special day and it's expected for people to get you nice gifts.

He’s not terribly jealous of others because he knows he has the power to smite them. But if you spend too much time away from him, he’s dragging you away for nap time, laying on top of you so you have no choice but to be his human pillow.

If things got really messy, like someone asked you to be their partner, Leona will not hesitate to take them out.  He’d probably do it in a blind fit of rage, making the scene unnecessarily bloody and messy, but it’ll be a quick death.  He’ll probably ask Ruggie to clean up later, but he’d want to hide the incident because he doesn’t need it reported and get an earful from Falena.

Overall, Leona may appear uninterested in pursuing a relationship with you, but he’s actually more involved in your life than you know.  He has a Danger Level of 9/10 even though his jealousy level is pretty low. If he gets really pissed off, it’ll end in a blood bath that nobody, except Ruggie, would ever know about.  If he pays off the right people, he can get away with these little “accidents” without so much a smack on the wrist.

Ruggie Bucchi: 🐾

He views you as the most valuable thing in the world.  Because of his rough upbringing, Ruggie has learned to appreciate what he has and to never want more than is achievable.

But when he saw you, he knew that he had to have you.  You were just so perfect and so different from the life he’s been living.

Because he often does exchanges with people for favors, he’ll probably bring that into your relationship as well.

It’ll probably start with him asking favors as usual, like helping you with homework to get you to buy him lunch.

Later, he’ll learn that he doesn’t need to ask you for favors since you’re always willing to help him out.  Now you offer to get him lunch without him needing to give you anything back.  At first he’s amazed, but he could never reject anything from you.

Learns to do nice acts back without expecting anything in return.  He’ll give you some wildflowers he personally picked and offer to carry your bags because he loves you, not because he wants anything anymore.

Will always give you food because of how scarce it was back home.  He views it as the highest gift he is able to give.

Will do extra chores for Leona to get more money to be able to buy you the best snacks.  He’ll grumble the entire time he’s completing the task, but your smile is always worth it in the end.

He’ll always accept your gifts, especially if it's food.  You’ll definitely get bonus points if you made it yourself.  After he’s gotten a taste of your cooking/baking, he’ll be shy to ask for more, but he’d do anything to taste your delicious food again.

Ruggie is a jealous type, and he won’t tolerate other people giving you food or you giving food to other people.  He’ll get offended because it makes it look like he’s not a good provider and that you’re valuing your relationships with other people over your friendship with him.

He’d probably corner the poor person later on and threaten them to stay away from you.  He’s a sly hyena and knows a lot of gossip, and it'd be such a shame if a nasty rumor started to spread around school.

He’s usually pretty good about letting you do your own thing because he doesn’t want to appear too clingy, but he’d probably stage something to spend more time with you.

Oh, you must help him find Leona!  He hasn’t shown up for most of his classes today and he needs an extra pair of eyes to find the lazy Housewarden before they all get in trouble.

You need to head back to your dorm?  Maybe Ruggie can tag along.  He really wants to learn the recipe of those cookies you made for him last week.

Overall, Ruggie is healing from his childhood, and he’s embraced you as his role model.  He has a Danger Level of 4/10 because he’d never use physical force against his enemies, he’d just spread some foul rumors and get his victim excluded and isolated at worst.  As your relationship continues, he will slowly stray from doing things that just benefit him, to doing things that benefit you two as a couple.

Jack Howl: 🐺

Is a precious boy who just wants to gain your affection, and fully leans into the dog part of his appearance to get it.

At first will try to win your love by letting you, and only you, pet his fluffy ears and his tail.  He’s seen you eyeing them during class and when you pass each other in the hallways, and thinks it's a pretty good way to strike up a conversation.

When the relationship eventually becomes a friendship, he will even break the rules and use his unique magic to transform into a wolf for you cuddle with, using his cute factor to the max.

He puts on a tough façade only because that’s what is expected from a Savanaclaw member, but he’s secretly a sweetheart for you.

Flips like a switch when he knows he’s alone with you, but he flips back equally as fast if someone wanders by.

Will give you small snacks or might even buy you lunch as a way to apologize for his distant behavior.  He also sees this as a way to elevate your friendship because these cute little exchanges are what couples do too.

You definitely have scary dog privileges because of Jack’s dorm, his sheer size, and intimidating expressions.  You can be as carefree as you want because he’ll always be watching and protecting you, even if you aren’t aware he’s around.

He won’t be suffocating in this relationship because he rather you come to him.  It shows him that you truly value your friendship and really appreciate his presence.

Will let you spend time away from him, but he will always be a safe distance away to silently watch over you and protect you from potential dangers.

Will only seek your attention when you haven’t hung out with him in a while, like you've spent too much time with Ace and Deuce.  He will be too shy to be straightforward so he’ll make up an excuse like wanting to eat lunch together or wanting to study for an upcoming test to spend time with you.

Will always put your needs before his, like helping you finish your homework first before doing his.

He often stays up late some nights to finish homework because he’s too busy helping or stalking you.  Don’t feel too bad though, he enjoys every second of it because it meant that he got to see you for more hours of the day.

Is not very dangerous, the most he’d probably do to rivals would be roughing them up a bit to give them a clear warning.

Will not injure enemies to the extent of a hospital stay, but might toss them around and threaten them, claiming he knows everything about them and who he needs to hurt to make them run off in fear.

Overall, Jack is a very loving yandere and needy for attention, which he’d never admit aloud.  He’s willing to put in the work to slowly entice you into a relationship with him.  He has a Danger Level of 2/10, only because the worst he would do is rough play with someone coupled with some nasty threats.  He truly values your friendship and gives you all the freedoms you could crave, and he really just wants you to love him back.