#white beam blossom

[wherekizzialives]

The Small Things Spreading Joy: May 2024

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

flower therapy | f. odair

masterlist

summary: after being rescued from the capitol’s torturous clutches, your boyfriend, finnick odair, assists you with recovering from haunting memories and ptsd.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: finnick being major boyfriend material, soft reader, mentions of torture, ptsd, panic attack, hurt/comfort, fluff

notes: the way i lowkey triggered myself into a panic attack while writing this?? i’m okay now though 😀

word count: 1.3k

Post-traumatic stress mental rehabilitation. That is what the psychiatric doctors of District Thirteen suggested after you were rescued from being captured and tortured in the Capitol. Their methods sounded daunting and all too familiar—sterile white rooms, memory flash cards, persistent strangers who would force you to relive your trauma so you could 'work through it'.

Finnick did not like the sound of that one bit. So, he offered an alternative.

Post-traumatic stress mental rehabilitation. The label was a mouthful. Finnick preferred to call it "flower therapy". Twice a week, you and Finnick were authorised to spend two hours above ground where you would sit in a nearby meadow, make daisy chains, and occasionally open up about what happened in the Capitol.

You liked to call it "the power of flowers". Stupid, but saying it always formed a little smile on your face and there was no harm in simple joy considering the cruelties you had endured. Most of the time, you were silent and would lie in Finnick's arms while making flower crowns. He was always patient; he understood you needed time. Day after day, he proved his unconditional love, and you thanked the universe for blessing you with such an incredible man.

"Oh no," you whispered.

"What is it?"

You dangled your broken daisy chain in front of you and Finnick.

"Oh no," he echoed.

Your back rested against his chest and his arms enveloped your body as he held his own effortlessly crafted yellow chain in your lap. Apparently, years of weaving fishing nets creates a master of making daisy chains.

"Here," he said, positioning his own flower crown on your head. "Beautiful."

Smiling, you turned your head to face him. "I'm going to tell everyone I made it."

The flowers sat like a golden halo atop your head, beaming just as bright as the smile Finnick had bloomed at the sight of you. Beauty was everything that you were; not just outwardly, but within the confines of your mind too. Flowers and sunlight were interwoven with your soul, making up the essence of who you were—loving and warm-hearted. One of the many reasons Finnick had fallen in love with you.

He would forever want to remain in your garden, tending to and protecting every petal that blossomed.

His thumb swiped affectionately across your cheek. "Of course you are, you thief," he murmured, grinning. "You owe me."

Your stomach flooded with butterflies and you leaned in, tenderly kissing him with soft pink lips. Finnick cupped your cheek, stroking the baby hairs of your hairline with his fingers as he smiled against your mouth. Even your lips tasted like sweet nectar to him.

After you pulled away, you settled back into his embrace, sinking into those arms that shielded you from any and all harm.

"Okay, I suppose you're forgiven," Finnick said, the smile present in his voice.

You toyed with his fingers while wearing a glowing smile of your own, his arms lovingly wrapped around your body. Oh, you loved him so endlessly.

As the sun began to lower, a mixture of orange and pink clouds blanketed the sky. The trees surrounding the meadow cast large shadows throughout the area, making it appear much darker than it really was. A subtle shift in the once tranquil atmosphere rippled through the meadow, happiness now becoming a distant and unreachable feeling.

The broken daisy chain crumpled in your hands no longer shined in the sun like a beautiful mess. It instead looked tangled. Chaotic. Darkened by the dimming light and transformed into something sinister that resurfaced haunting memories of the Capitol—twisted IV tubes filled with unknown substances, chains that removed layers of skin, decaying white roses that covered the floor of your cell.

Heaviness clutched at your heart, suffocating you from within.

Finnick sensed the sudden shift, loosening his hold around you as he whispered, "What's wrong?"

"I—I don't know," you stammered, the air thinning around you.

The wilting daisies started to taint your hands with darkness, creeping slowly up your arms and causing them to tremble. Finnick, who noticed your fixation on the daisy chain, gently took the flowers from your grasp and set them aside.

It was too late; the panic had already set in.

He turned your body to the side in his lap, forcing you to face him. Your eyes flickered with worry. No amount of pain could compare to the heartbreak he felt seeing you like this.

"Hey. Hey, look at me," he urged, his tone soothing. "Breathe with me, alright? In..." He inhaled deeply through his nose. "And out."

But it was no use. Air was caged within your lungs, burning like fiery hot whirlwinds inside your chest. It was all you could do to force rapid shallow breaths out of your mouth.

"No, no!" A tear fell from your eye as you fervently shook your head. "Finn, I ca—I can't."

"Yes, you can, baby," he said, pushing aside the hair that obscured your vision. His eyes searched the area, looking for anything that could help distract your frantic mind. That is when he spotted a small flock of birds perched on one of the tree branches, instantly recognising their black feathers and sharp beaks. "Look. See those birds? They're mockingjays."

Finnick pointed up at the tree, gaining your attention which then shifted to the birds that were gawking down at you with curious tilting heads. Mockingjays. Katniss. Rebellion. Hope. You focused all your attention on the little black birds and listened to Finnick's reassuring voice.

"They'll repeat any tune you make," he continued, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Can you do that for me? Try and whistle something for them?"

Attempting to control your ragged breathing, you jerkily nodded. Songs from the world before the war overtook your mind. At first, it was overwhelming as your mind scrambled for a suitable melody, fuelling your panicked state. But then you heard something familiar and focused on the familiar tune, one that was from your childhood.

Hush-a-bye, don't you cry,

Go to sleep, my little baby,

When you wake you shall have,

All the pretty little horses.

It was a lullaby your mother sang whenever you were upset. Seemed fitting considering the situation. You managed to whistle the first few notes, albeit a little wobbly of course, hardly noticing the air that was starting to flow more freely into your lungs.

"That's it, sweet girl."

Once the mockingjays began echoing the song throughout the forest—far more beautifully than your broken whistles—you continued the melody until the end. When you finished, the birds continued to repeat the tune, singing your mother's lullaby over and over in the trees of District Thirteen.

Whilst sat cradled in Finnick's embrace, you quietly hummed along as he stroked soft patterns on your arm. Darkness and pain were long forgotten now. Your body no longer trembled with fear nor did your breathing. Memories of the Capitol's brutality were locked away and hidden in the back of your mind, diligently guarded by the man whose arms you lay in.

Golden beams filtered through the tree trunks; the sun was now lowered enough to let the warm light in, illuminating both you and Finnick. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, wrapping you up even tighter in his arms now that he was certain the worst had passed.

You clutched onto his arm and blew out a final stabilising breath, finding comfort in the strength and protection he held. The side of your head rested against his chest, the beats of his heart harmonising like a drum with the mockingjays' song.

You wanted to apologise but knew his response would be dismissive. You wanted to tell him how deeply you loved and appreciated him but knew your words would fail you.

So, you remained silent.

"You're safe," Finnick whispered into your hair. "Right here, right now. I promise."

Right here, right now, you repeated in your mind. In Finnick's arms, you were safe. You were loved.

tags: @tayrae515

[toothfa-1-ry]

MEMORIES WE MADE BACK THEN !!

You and thanos knew eachother from way back then, maybe you'll both know eachother in the future too

Thanos x exmanager! Reader

Angst

Posting one last fic before I officially disappear

"Manager-nim !!" A all too familiar voice practically shouts in your ear, the deep tone sending shivers down your spine and the hair on your arms to stand up

You tilt your head, almost like a reflex as you turn around,

again, a all too familiar frown on your face, thanos thinks to himself

"What the" you mutter as you look at thanos, slightly taken back "What are you doing here" adding more sternly

Thanos shows off his row of pearly whites, his wide grin beaming only what could be defined as pure excitement

"Manager-nim" he calls out again, nudging you softly upon hearing your stern voice

to be fair you weren't his manager. Not anymore. Maybe back then when he was a rapper who seemed to have a promising future career but after his crypto scandel and drug scandel, not only did his career plummet but so did yours

No one wanted to hire a manager who couldn't even take care of their clients

You poke his arm, harsh

"Thanks what the hell are you doing here huh?" You scold him, it was almost a habit of yours, even back then

Thanos immediately moves away his arm with a smirk plastered on his face

"I know all your moves" he teases "cmon try hitting me again, i'll dodge them all-"

You hit him in his shoulder before he could finish his sentence causing him to wince

So dramatic...he should have been an actor instead, you think

"You still didn't answer my question" you say annoyed "prick" adding at the end

Even back then, you and Thanos didnt have the usual manger and client relationship that most entertainers have with their manager.

At the very beginning, you realised that it was impossible to have a civil relationship with Thanos, instead a sort of friendship blossomed between the both of you,

that is, if you consider whatever you and Thanos had going on back then as friendship

Things change though, relationships change aswell.

Your not his manager anymore and he's not your client anymore but you still call him a prick and he still addressed you the same way he addressed you years ago

So maybe not everything is different. Maybe you don't mind it all too much, he surely doesnt

"Agh" thanos scratches the back of his neck like he usually did when he felt awkward, no one knows that though, no one but you

"You know why, manager-nim"

You inwardly groan, ofcourse you know why, but that didn't mean that you wanted him to be stuck here in the games

"Fuck, i think i know why your here too" theres something unusual in his tone. It almost sounds like guilt

You look up to face the purple haired boy who is gazing at you, his lips tightened, drawn into a thin line which attempts to throw you a smile

Key word: attempt

"Yea" you shift uncomfortably, brushing your front hair behind your ears

You hit his shoulder, before locking arms around him "you prick, your still giving me trouble even when I've stopped being your manager"

You throw him your signature grin as you joke with him, it felt weird seeing him look guilty, it felt weird seeing how guilty he felt towards you

"Sorry manager-nim !" Thanos shouts outloud with a gleam in his eyes

You laugh softly at his action

Thanos sees you laugh, a fire is suddenly ignited in him to make you laugh even more

"Manager nim !!" He shouts even louder, shouting up at the sky before bowing at a perfect 90° angle "I'll try to disturb you even more from now on !!"

"Aish what the hell" your curse, though your smiling at his behavior "you haven't changed, your still annoying"

I like that you haven't changed

"Manager nim !!" Thanos screams again, wrapping his arms around you, causing you to you squeal as you cover his mouth to stop him from shouting

You don't notice the way thanos looks at you

I missed you

"Stop calling me that" you say, scolding him "im not your manager anymore remember? Just call me by my name"

"Okay !!" Thanos shoves two thumbs up into your face "ill make sure to do that from now on manager-nim !!"

No, not just "you"

You shake your head, what else did you expect?

"Fucking asshole" you smiling though, and so is the enthusiastic boy next to you

I missed "us"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

You watch horrified as some players come out of the bathroom, all bloody with cuts and wounds

Immediately your eyes search for Thanos, frantically hoping that nothing bad happened, holding your breath until you see thanos's limo figure being held by nam gyu who suffered similar wounds like his friend

Immediately your climb down your bunk bed, rushing towards thanos, helping support him along with nam gyu

"What the fuck happened?" You ask nam gyu, your eyes all widened as you soaked in the scene infront of you

Thanos coughs softly, you look at his face, seeing blood all over his shirt, a purple eye and cuts and wounds all over

"I asked you what the fuck happened?!" You shout even louder this time, the other players in the room murmer, also asking what happened in the bathroom

"These guys tried attacking us in the bathroom" nam gyu shouted, pointing at the players with the red X mark in their uniform

"They tried to force some people to change their vote !!" Someone shouts from the X group

Again, another fight emerges with players from the two sides screaming and shouting

However, your sole focus was on the retired rapper who groans in pain, holding his stomach

"Fuck thanos" you mutter as you lead him away from the crowd and to the bunk bed situated in a corner, making him to lie down

Your hands slowly cup his face, examining the scars and wounds on his face

"It was that scammer bastard" thanos growls under his breath before wincing at the pain

"Shut up" you whisper as you move his hair away from his face

"I- i was so angry" thanos says, you could hear the desperation in his voice, the anger "because of him, i lost everything" his voice cracks

All you could do was sit silently beside his bed, staring at his cuts, trying to clean it with your shirt, if that was even helping

"Thanos" you implore as you touch his arm "stop, there's no point in getting angry now, atleast not at this moment"

Thanos looks at you and your furrowed eyebrows, obviously furrowed in distress over his current state. He sees the grimace in your face as you look at his scars and the concern splattered all over your face

It was so reminiscent of the face you made when you first found out about his scandel

"I lost everything" thanos mutters "all I had. Gone down the drain, bye bye"

You shake your head, urging him to be quiet and rest

"Money, fame, respect" he states with a neutral tone "now that I think of it, if it had lost only thag then I would have been fine"

You look over him

"But i lost you too" thanos locks eyes with you "i wish i never lost you"

You stare at him, speechless, unsure of what to say or how to react

"Manager nim" he calls out with a uncharacteristic tone of softness, he looks at you with the same softness too

"Do you know why i really came here?" He laughs softly, mostly at himself, he feels so pathetic right now. Lying wounded and bleeding infront of the person who he had feelings for such a long time

So fucking embarrassing

"Why?" You ask apprehensively, not quite sure of ehat to expect

"To get rid of all the bad memories of the past. The memories of me getting scammed, people hating me, letting my fans down" he pauses "letting you down"

"I thought maybe if I came back with a lot of money i could erase all of that, fuck, i could rewrite everything if i could"

You bite you lower lip, unable to comfort the bow lying down beside you

"But sometimes" he breaths out lowly, before letting out a groan

You move towards him, supporting him to sit upright "but what?"

"Sometimes, when i remember bad memories from back then" thanos looks at you "i just think of you and remember all the good times we had together"

He stops, gazing at your face, his eyes wandering around all your features, trying to memorize them incase he never saw you again

"and then I realise that it wasnt all too bad" he let's out a half smile "maybe back then wasnt all too bad. Maybe I miss back then it's better then here anyways"

You unknowingly sniffle, trying to connect what thanos was trying to say, unsure of how to interpret his words

"Are you speaking in lyrics? Your being so confusing" you mumble softly "just speak straight"

"Are you gonna make me spell it out?"

Thanos smiles, showcasing all his teeth which was once pearly now remained stained red eith blood

"Y/n" he calls out your name "Let's get out of here"

his pinky touches yours "let's get out of here together, and make more memories for us to look back on and remember how we were, back then"

You pause, feeling the contact between his pinky and yours, you enclose it my interlocking your fingers with his

"Even better memories then back then" you whisper with a smile

"Hey" thanos nudges your head with his "as long as it's with you, i'll always look back at it and cherish it"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

The vip guest stares down, their usual excitement vanished as they watch the big screen

Though you could not see their faces, it was obvious that all of them seemed to have a glum expression on their face

"I have to say, im disappointed, for the first time actually at the death of a player" a vip member expresses

"Fuck, I was betting on them too" vip 5 bangs his cup on a table, agitation radiating out of his body

"That's why I told you, don't bet on your emotions" a high pitch snarl comes from vip 8 "your such a romanticist, that's your issue"

"So what?! Huh? What's your problem?" Vip 5 says defensively, angered by the comment

Vip 8 with the red gleaming dress simply shrugs taking a sip of champagne

"I have to admit though" another voice interjects from another vip member "I was kind of rooting for them"

"You were?" Another voice asksd

"Hey!" The vip member holds up his hand with a chuckle as if he was being interrogated "you automatically find yourself rooting for young love don't you? Your halfway through and you don't even realise it"

Vip 5 nodds eagerly, pointing his hands at the vip who said that

Some other vips agree while some disagree

"The only thing i'll admit though" vip 8, Stands up from her seat, here red gown training behind her as she walks towards the screen

She, along with all the other vip members watch as the pink guards place you and thanos's lifeless bodies into the coffin after the aftermath of the ambush fight that occurred a few nights after your conversation.

"I was looking foreword to know what kind of memories they were planning to make with one another"

[heartsriki]

FLORAL SANCTUARY ⌇봄의 사랑

pairing ᝰ idol!sunghoon x fem!reader — featuring.. riki & sunoo | word count: 5.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ fluff, tiny bit of angst, mention of Sasaengs, misunderstandings, assault attempt (not from hoon), kissing, reader is a florist.

synopsis — your life is turned upside down when a mysterious customer, later revealed to be sunghoon of ENHYPEN, starts frequenting your shop. As feelings blossom, they must navigate the challenges of love in the spotlight and a world of secrets.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Im not sure if I like this but :( I worked on it for a little bit of time so I might as well post it also don’t talk about me sneaking riki into every fic fr.. OH I hope yall like the bonuses under every fic as well <3 hope you like it enjoy fr!

The start of spring always brought life to the city. The air smelled of fresh blooms, the sun painted the streets in golden light, and your quaint little flower shop buzzed with new energy. Spring meant love was in the air, and for a florist like you, it was prime confession season.

The day, however, had been slower than you’d hoped. The usual flow of familiar faces trickled in—some grabbing pre-made bouquets, others chatting as they browsed. Earlier, a man wearing a mask and a baseball cap had wandered in, keeping to himself as he strolled among the displays. He seemed like the kind of person who was window-shopping rather than buying, so you left him to it, busying yourself with restocking and rearranging.

The soft chime of the doorbell broke the quiet rhythm of the shop, and you turned to see a younger guy, probably no older than 18, shuffling inside. He looked nervous, wringing his hands as he approached the counter.

“Uh, hey… What flowers are, like, good for confessing?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but smile. This was your favorite kind of customer—the ones looking for the perfect way to say something they couldn’t put into words themselves. “If you’re confessing love, red tulips are a classic,” you said, guiding him toward the vibrant blooms.

His face lit up as he picked a handful, and you wrapped them into a simple but elegant bouquet. As you handed it over, you grinned and said, “Good luck! I hope they say yes.”

“Thanks!” he beamed, waving as he left the shop.

You turned back to the shelves, searching for something to keep you busy when the man in the mask from earlier appeared at the counter. He stood tall, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his face obscured by the brim of his cap.

“Can I help you?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated like he was working up the courage to speak. “Yeah, uh… I heard you helping that kid, and I was wondering… what flowers are good to give to your mom?”

His voice was deep but soft, and something about it made your chest tighten. You pushed the thought aside and gave a little laugh. “For your mom? Gardenias are perfect—they symbolize love for family. But they’re a bit pricey.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’ll take one.”

You nodded and stepped away to grab one of the delicate white blooms. As you did, the radio in the corner of the shop switched songs, the upbeat melody of “Moonstruck” by ENHYPEN filling the air. You glanced at the man, noticing how he suddenly stiffened. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and his eyes darted toward the door.

“Here you go,” you said, returning with the flower wrapped in crisp white paper.

But as you held it out to him, he grabbed it hastily and bolted for the door.

“Hey!” you called after him, heart racing as you hurried around the counter. You chased him to the sidewalk, but he was already halfway down the block, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there, out of breath, staring after him. “What the actual hell…”

The next day, just as you were finishing up for the evening, you hummed to the soft tune of the radio while sweeping the shop floor. The faint ding of the bell broke the stillness, and you looked up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closing,” you explained softly, leaning the broom against the counter.

The man who entered smirked at you, his demeanor casual but confident. “No worries, babe. I wasn’t here for flowers anyway,” he said, slowly stepping toward you.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Then what are you here for?”

“Your number would be a good start,” he said with a cocky smile, reaching out as if to touch your arm.

Before he could make contact, an arm suddenly pulled him back. Startled, you watched as his head snapped toward the figure standing behind him—the man in the mask and baseball cap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the masked man asked, his voice low and commanding.

The cocky man’s confidence vanished in an instant. “Uh—nothing. Sorry!” he stammered before bolting out of the shop, the bell jingling violently as the door slammed behind him.

You huffed, rubbing your arms as you looked at the masked man. “Wow, that was scary. Thanks,” you said, your gaze now focused on him. Something about him caught your attention—his peek of black hair beneath the cap, his smooth voice, his familiar presence.

“Hey… wait!” you exclaimed, realization dawning. “You’re that guy—”

He tensed, hands raised defensively. “Wait, wait!” he interrupted, wincing as you grabbed the broom and swatted him with it.

“Why did you just bolt out of here with my precious flower?” you asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “Something… happened. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a card and held it out cautiously, still eyeing the broom. “Here, I didn’t pay for the flower. I came back to fix that.”

You took the card skeptically, lowering the broom. He had helped you just now, and honestly, stealing a flower of all things seemed odd for a thief.

Heading back to the counter, you swiped his card and handed it back. “So, did your mom like the flower?”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Oh, yes. She loved it,” he said, a shy smile creeping across his face.

You beamed at him, and your mood instantly lifted. “That’s great! I’m glad it worked out.”

The shop fell into a comfortable quiet as he glanced around. The soft glow of the shop’s lights bathed the room in warmth, the scent of flowers lingering in the air.

“Are you closing?” he asked after a moment, his voice curious.

You clapped your hands, laughing. “Oh! Yes, I am. I completely forgot!” Quickly, you disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with your bag slung over your shoulder and your apron folded in your hands.

“Follow me,” you said with a wave, walking toward the entrance.

He trailed behind you, watching as you locked the door and tucked your keys into your bag. The soft glow of the streetlights cast a warm light over you, and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked under it.

“Well, this is where I say goodbye. Thanks again for earlier,” you said with a small smile.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Are you heading home? I could take you.” He gestured toward a sleek car parked nearby.

You laughed softly, tilting your head. “I would, but I don’t think it’s smart for a young lady to hop into the car of a man whose name she doesn’t know.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. “But you can walk me to the bus stop over there,” you offered, pointing down the street.

His face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you began walking side by side, the quiet hum of the city filling the space between you. As you reached the bus stop, you turned to him with a smile.

“Thank you again for helping me earlier… and for coming back,” you said, your voice soft.

He nodded, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Of course. I guess I owe you for leaving so suddenly yesterday,” he said with a shy laugh.

As your bus approached, he stepped back, the glow of the headlights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Will you be stopping by again?” you asked, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe.”

You smiled as you stepped onto the bus, glancing back at him one last time. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

As the bus pulled away, you caught sight of him standing there, watching you leave, the brim of his cap tilted just enough to shield his face from view.

After that day, he started stopping by your shop around closing time more often. At first, it was casual—an excuse to chat or linger in the comforting atmosphere of the flower shop. But soon, it became a routine you secretly looked forward to.

You learned that Park Sunghoon was funny, sly, and much more interesting than he initially let on. He always seemed more curious about you than willing to talk about himself. Every time you tried to ask questions about his life, he’d expertly change the subject, steering the conversation back to you. It bummed you out a little—not knowing much about him—but the way he listened to you and genuinely seemed interested in your stories made it hard to hold it against him.

Tonight was no different. He strolled in just as the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the shop aglow with warm, golden light.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, dropping his bag onto one of the chairs near the counter.

You looked up from the bouquets you were prepping, he wasn't wearing his mask today. “Hey, Sunghoon.”

He leaned against the counter, watching as you worked. His gaze softened as you expertly arranged the blooms into delicate patterns.

“Why do you like flowers so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

You paused, glancing back at him with the bouquet still in your hands. “Flowers help people express feelings they can’t say. I like to express my love and passion through them, and I think the different meanings of each flower are amazing.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darting toward the bouquet you were holding—a mix of pink and red roses. “Yeah? And what do those mean?”

“Blooming love,” you replied, holding his gaze for a moment before turning to place the bouquet on display.

He gulped, his fingers nervously fidgeting. “Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes?” you asked a little too eagerly, stepping closer.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, go somewhere with me? Sometime? When you’re free?”

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m free now.”

His eyes widened, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “Now? But I… I didn’t dress up or anything…”

You giggled, waving your hand dismissively. “Neither did I. It doesn’t matter. You look cute.”

He laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

With the shop locked up and the sun lingering just above the horizon, you and Sunghoon walked down the quiet street. The gentle buzz of the city surrounded you, and the scent of flowers still clung to you from the shop.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“I figured we’d just wander a bit, see where we end up,” he said with a small smile. “Unless you have a better idea?”

You shook your head, enjoying the spontaneity. “Nope, that works for me.”

As you walked, you found yourselves at a quaint park tucked away from the busy streets. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their pink petals floating gently on the breeze.

“This is beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes scanning the scene.

Sunghoon nodded, glancing at you. “Yeah… it is.”

You both settled onto a bench near the pond, where ducks paddled lazily in the water. A food cart nearby caught your attention, and you laughed softly. “Ice cream?”

He followed your gaze and grinned. “Absolutely. Stay here—I’ll get it.”

You watched him jog over to the cart, noticing how relaxed he looked for the first time. When he returned, he handed you a cone with a bashful smile.

“Vanilla,” he said. “I guessed.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied, taking a small bite. “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. The warm light of the setting sun danced on the water, and a soft breeze carried the scent of blossoms around you.

“So, Sunghoon,” you said, breaking the silence. “Are you ever going to tell me more about yourself, or are you planning to stay mysterious forever?”

He chuckled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I guess I just like listening to you talk.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but it’s not an answer.”

He hesitated, then turned to meet your eyes. “Someday. I promise.”

“Can't I even see your full face?” You asked nervously.

He looked at you and thought about it. He has known you for a good bit of time now, you don’t seem to know him for who he is, so he took a risk he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He slowly took the baseball cap off and looked at you with caution.

You slowly smiled and him and looked down. “You shouldn’t hide a handsome face like yours, “ you said giggling.

He blinked and felt heat creep up his neck.

He looked at the bush behind the bench and plucked one of the flowers that was on it. “I don’t know what it means but I can tell It suits you,” he said softly, holding up the pink petal and placing it behind your ear.

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “Thanks.”

After finishing your ice cream, the two of you decided to keep wandering through the park. The cherry blossom trees seemed to create a magical canopy above you, the soft glow of lanterns adding a warm touch to the atmosphere. You noticed Sunghoon stealing glances at you as you walked, but every time you caught him, he’d quickly look away, pretending to admire the scenery instead.

As you neared a small outdoor seating area, you spotted a musician setting up his guitar. A small crowd began gathering, and you nudged Sunghoon with your elbow.

“Let’s sit and listen for a while,” you suggested.

He hesitated for a second before nodding. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you found a seat nearby. The musician strummed a few chords before launching into a soft, acoustic rendition of a pop song. You tapped your fingers against your knees, nodding along to the melody.

“You into music much?” Sunghoon asked casually, leaning back against the bench.

You shrugged. “Not really. I don’t keep up with social media or anything, so I don’t know much about what’s trending. I mostly just listen to whatever’s playing on the radio in the shop.”

Sunghoon froze for a moment, then shifted in his seat, suddenly looking a little too interested in the gravel path in front of him. “Oh… really? No social media?”

“Nope,” you said with a smile. “It’s too exhausting to keep up with. Why?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, no reason. Just… not many people are like that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his sudden nervousness. “What about you? You strike me as someone who listens to a lot of music.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you could say that. Music’s kind of… important to me.”

“Oh? What kind of music do you like?”

Before he could answer, the musician transitioned into a song that made a few people in the crowd cheer. You tilted your head, listening closely. The melody was catchy, but you couldn’t place it.

“I think I’ve heard this one before,” you said thoughtfully. “Isn’t it by that group… what are they called again? En… something?”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. “Enhypen,” he said quickly, his voice a little too steady.

“Yeah, that’s it!” you said, snapping your fingers. “They’re okay, I guess. Some of their songs are nice, but it’s not really my thing.”

He turned to you so fast that you thought he might have hurt his neck. “Okay?” he repeated, his tone slightly incredulous.

You blinked at him, surprised by his reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, they’re good, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to them. Why? Are you a fan or something?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression caught between offense and disbelief. “I—uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, visibly flustered. “You could say I know a lot about them.”

You chuckled, completely unaware of his internal struggle. “Well, that’s cool. I’ve probably heard more of their songs than I realize. You know how it is—songs play everywhere, but you don’t always know who’s singing them.”

Sunghoon nodded stiffly, looking like he was fighting the urge to say something. Finally, he let out a breath and crossed his arms. “Enhypen is… more than just ‘okay.’”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Wow, you must be a fan. Don’t worry, I’ll give them another chance.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile.

The musician wrapped up his performance, and the crowd began to disperse. As you stood to leave, Sunghoon glanced at you, his nervous energy from earlier now replaced with quiet amusement.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said as you walked side by side.

“A deal?” you repeated, curious.

He nodded. “Every time we hang out, I’ll show you some songs, and you have to give me your honest opinion. But you have to promise to really listen.”

You smiled at him, enjoying the way his confidence seemed to return. “Deal. But only if you tell me more about yourself in return.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

You and Sunghoon kept going on more and more dates after that first one.

He was always kind and attentive, never pushing boundaries or trying anything beyond the occasional lingering gaze or shy smile. But that’s precisely what started to bother you. You wanted more. You’d made moves to take things further, even inviting him into your apartment after he dropped you off one night. But he’d quickly dismissed himself with a polite excuse.

It honestly made you insecure. Was he just playing with you? Was this something casual for him? You couldn’t help but wonder, especially when he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet.

Now, on yet another date, Sunghoon seemed even more cautious than usual, glancing over his shoulder constantly, his cap and mask firmly in place despite the intimate setting.

“Hoon,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone as you set down your fork. “What’s up with you?”

You were at a cozy dinner spot, the kind of place where no one batted an eye at couples sharing shy smiles over candlelight. Yet, Sunghoon seemed distant, his shoulders stiff, his gaze darting around the room like he was expecting something—or someone.

He didn’t respond immediately.

“We’re at dinner, for God’s sake. Why do you still have the mask on?” You sighed, leaning closer to him. “Seriously, can you just talk to me? What’s going on?”

“Listen, Y/N—” he began, but before he could finish, a loud squeal pierced the air.

You turned toward the source of the noise, only to be met with the blinding flashes of cameras. A group of girls was pointing and taking pictures, their excited chatter growing louder by the second.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened in panic. He grabbed your hand and bolted out the door, pulling you behind him as a crowd of fans followed closely.

“Sunghoon!” you gasped, struggling to keep up. “I can’t run much longer!”

“Just hold on! We’re almost there!” he shouted over his shoulder, his grip on your hand tightening.

After weaving through alleys and streets, he led you to a sleek black car parked inconspicuously. He opened the door in a hurry and ushered you inside, quickly jumping in after you. The driver sped off before you even had a chance to process what had just happened.

Out of breath, you turned to look behind you, watching the wave of girls shrink into the distance. Then you shifted your gaze to Sunghoon, who was fixing his disheveled hair.

“What the hell is going on?!” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and frustration.

“Sir, where to?” the driver asked calmly as if this were a normal occurrence.

“Her apartment, please,” Sunghoon replied quickly before turning to you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, please… I’ll explain everything when we get there. Just—just give me a chance to explain.”

You pulled your hands away from him as he reached for you, your trust shaken.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. You stared out the window, your thoughts spiraling. What could he possibly be hiding that would explain this?

When you finally reached your apartment, you stormed up the stairs, Sunghoon trailing close behind. You unlocked the door and threw your belongings onto the couch, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“Y/N, please listen—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, needing a distraction. The news channel popped up, and you froze when you saw your face on the screen, standing beside Sunghoon.

The headline read: “Park Sunghoon from rising K-pop group ENHYPEN spotted on a date?”

Your head snapped toward him, and his panicked expression told you everything you needed to know.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you asked, your voice dangerously calm.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “No… it’s the truth. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Didn’t want it to change anything? Sunghoon, if you’d told me this from the beginning, I could’ve understood! But instead, you left me in the dark, and made me question everything!”

His face fell, and he knelt in front of you, his voice breaking. “Y/N, you’re not a joke to me. You’re so much more than that. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid—afraid you’d treat me differently like everyone else does.”

“Is that what you thought of me? After all the time we’ve spent together, that’s what you got?”

He looked up at you, eyes wide with regret. “No, that’s not—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I think you should leave, Sunghoon.”

The use of his full name hit him like a blow. He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to argue, but the coldness in your expression stopped him.

“Please… just let me make it up to you,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away. “I need time to think this over.”

He nodded reluctantly, standing and walking to the door. He paused for a moment, looking back at you one last time before stepping out and closing it softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body. The room felt unbearably quiet.

A few hours after the incident with Sunghoon, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, two men in sharp suits stood there, their expressions professional yet apologetic.

“Miss Y/N?” one of them asked, confirming your identity.

“Yes?” you replied cautiously, your grip tightening on the doorframe.

“We’re representatives from Sunghoon’s agency,” the man said. His tone was calm, but the mention of Sunghoon’s name immediately caused your chest to tighten.

“We need to discuss the current situation,” the other man added. “May we come in?”

You hesitated, debating whether to slam the door in their faces or let them speak. Against your better judgment, you stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

The two men sat on your couch, their serious expressions only adding to your unease.

“We’re here to inform you that, due to the recent media coverage and fan activity, it’s in your best interest to lay low for a while,” one of them began. “The situation has escalated, and we’re concerned for your privacy and safety.”

Your heart sank. “Lay low?” you echoed, already dreading where this was going.

“Yes,” the other man confirmed. “The company will compensate you for any financial losses during this time, including your shop’s closure. We’re prepared to cover all expenses until the situation deescalates.”

The mention of your shop caused a lump to form in your throat. “You want me to close my shop?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“It’s only temporary,” the first man assured you. “Once things settle, you can resume your normal routine.”

You nodded numbly, but their words offered no comfort. As the two men stood to leave, they handed you a card with a number to call if you needed anything. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out,” one of them said.

After they left, you shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The shop was more than just a job to you��it was your sanctuary, the place where you felt most at peace. The thought of staying away from it, from the vibrant blooms and quiet hum of your safe space, only added to the ache in your chest.

The weight of everything was suffocating. You’d already lost your connection with Sunghoon, and now you were being forced to step away from the one thing that gave you solace. It felt as though your entire world was unraveling, piece by piece.

As you sat on the couch staring at the card in your hand, tears welled up in your eyes. You didn’t blame Sunghoon for this—not entirely—but the situation had left you feeling isolated and lost.

Two weeks had passed, and there was still no word from Sunghoon. You knew this silence was your own doing—you had asked for space—but you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

After the incident, Sunghoon had left long strings of heartfelt messages apologizing, explaining, and pleading for you to hear him out. But after a week of silence from you, the messages stopped. The sudden quiet felt heavier than you anticipated, and you hated how much you longed to see his name pop up on your screen again.

The company still hadn’t given you the green light to reopen your shop, leaving you trapped in an endless cycle of isolation and overthinking. The emptiness weighed on you, and your apartment felt colder than usual.

As you sat on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through your camera roll, your heart tightened when you stumbled upon a photo from your first date with Sunghoon. It was a selfie of you both at the park. You were smiling brightly at the camera while Sunghoon, with his cap, pulled low, was looking at you instead of the lens. You couldn’t help but stare at the image, remembering the butterflies you’d felt that day.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at the door. Confused, you got up slowly, not expecting any visitors. When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, standing in front of you with a bouquet in his hands and a soft, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice calm but nervous.

You looked at the flowers, then back at him. “Hi,” you replied softly, stepping aside to let him in.

Sunghoon entered, turning to face you as you closed the door. Without a word, you walked to the couch and patted the spot beside you, silently asking him to sit. He followed your lead, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before taking a seat next to you.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am,” he began, his voice heavy with guilt. “I’m not great at expressing myself, but I need you to know that I never saw you as a joke. I wasn’t messing with you—not ever.”

You nodded, staying quiet as you listened, your eyes focused on him.

“Every time you tried to get closer to me, I… I panicked,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I kept thinking about who I am, about my life and how messy it can get. I was scared—scared that if we got too close, you’d realize how much baggage I carry and leave. I didn’t want to lose you.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “But I’ve realized something, Y/N. I can’t just be your friend. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything less than love.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and your heart swelled. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the love he was finally laying bare.

“Hoon…” you started, but he interrupted you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words tumbling out quickly as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a smile spread across your face. Without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your faces were mere inches apart now, and his hands instinctively found their way to your waist. He gazed into your eyes before his gaze dropped to your lips. And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and sweet, full of the emotions he’d been holding back for so long. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. As the kiss deepened, he gently eased you back onto the couch, his arm bracing him above you while his other hand cupped your cheek.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he rested his forehead against your shoulder, holding you close. His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your shirt as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Your eyes landed on the bouquet on the table, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

He lifted his head, confused. “What’s so funny?”

You gestured to the flowers. “What do these mean, Hoon?”

He glanced at them and scratched the back of his neck. “Well… I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I just grabbed all the red ones. I figured they’d all mean love or something.”

You pointed to one in the arrangement. “That one means death, you know.”

His eyes widened in panic. “What?! That’s not what Google said!” He quickly reached for the bouquet, inspecting it frantically.

You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach. It took him a moment to realize you were teasing him. He groaned, leaning back with a playful glare. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Still laughing, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It was a little funny.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The day before, Sunghoon had been pacing in the practice room, his phone in hand.

“What flowers should I get her?” he muttered, scrolling through countless search results.

“Sunghoon, please, just pick one and go talk to her already,” Sunoo groaned from the couch, watching his friend spiral.

“You don’t get it” Sunghoon snapped. “Flowers are really important to her.”

“Then just get her roses,” Riki chimed in from the corner. “Simple but classic.”

“She deserves more than simple,” Sunghoon mumbled, still fixated on his phone.

“Sunghoon!” Riki and Sunoo yelled in unison, exasperated.

[elliesmainhoe]

Sundress Season

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

NSFW imagine • 18+ ONLY

Summary: A picnic date can really only end one way~

Contents: Fluff, feminine reader, kissing, cuteness, hickeys, ✂️✂️✂️, Abby loves your tits, use of pet names (baby, sugar, doll, beautiful).

WC 1.1K

DAY 1 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER.

June was your favourite month by far. The sun beamed down onto the hillside, it's rays setting a gold hue across the grass , the wind still held a crispness to it that was not yet tainted by the humidity of late summer heat but still warm, the flowers began blossoming their buds and petals and the birds started to sing their songs.

You loved it. That's why, when the signs of early summer began showing you immediately knew that you had to celebrate the occasion. And what better way than a picnic with your favourite person in the whole wide world, your wife.

Sandwiches, fruit, lemonade and some homemade cupcakes were packed into a brown wicker basket, along with a cliche red and white chequered blanket to lay on the still slightly dewy grass.

"Are you ready beautiful?" You heard Abby's voice sound out from downstairs, like usual she put on her usual clothes and braided her hair without a bother in the world. You however, showered, did your skincare, dried and styled your hair, applied your make-up, and put on the prettiest dress you owned. A floral blue off the shoulder dress that draped down to your knees.

It was annoying, in all honesty. How effortlessly beautiful she was.

"Yes, Coming!" You yelled back, clipping the clasp on your necklace as you left your bedroom and running down the stairs excitedly. "I've packed all of the food that you told me to- it looks delicious" Abby told you, smiling at your excited form- as you hop up and down.

"Thank you Abs!" You smile in appreciation, grabbing her hand and ushering her out the door. A stupid lovesick smile plastered onto her features as she beamed at the nickname.

The old rust bucket truck purred into action as soon as Abby's key turned in the ignition, hand placed firm on your thigh. Thumb moving in a circular motion- before her arm moved over the back of the leather seat you were sitting in as she reversed out of the drive.

It took about ten minutes to get to the location you had in mind- living in the countryside definitely had its perks for sure. Soft music drifted out the cars speakers, filling in the comfortable silence that fell between you and Abby, the only noise other than the music being your quiet hums.

The riverbank was beautiful, with sound of rushing water, twittering birds and tall trees casting shade on the ground. You laid the chequered blanket by the tree, hoping to be kept out of view from the sun.

Abby kneeled down on the blanket, assisting you by unpacking the basket, humming in approval at the sight of the food. Once she'd emptied the wicker baskets contents she sat down, back resting against the rough bark of the tree.

"c'mere, sugar" she grinned, patting her thigh with a chuckle.

Of course you sat down, smiling sweetly as you picked up a cupcake from the spread of food, licking at the icing, earning an eye roll from Abby.

"Really?" She scoffed, with a smirk on her face.

"really."

Her hands grabbed your hips softly, kneading at the plush flesh over the thin fabric of your sundress. Her mouth connected to the naked skin of your collar bone, sucking and kissing leaving purple marks behind in her tentative wake and drawing soft whimpers from your lips.

Soon her mouth had travelled to your neck and then your jaw and then she eventually dipped down to the top of your boobs, her teeth nipping at the soft flesh of your cleavage.

"Aren't ya just so lucky to live in the middle of no where, so your girlfriend can play with your tits whenever the fuck she wants and no one can see ya?- lucky girl" she purred.

Her hands began tugging down the straps of your dress, breasts spilling out from the built-in cups of the floral dress. She left light kisses across the plush of your skin, slowly moving down the valley in-between your breasts before moving back up to slowly suck on your sensitive nipple.

As her tongue rolled over your sensitive bud, you felt her calloused fingers creep up your thigh, pinching at the fat before settling over your clothed cunt. Her fingers brushed over your sensitive spot, still shielded in thin fabric as you gasped at the sensation.

You cried out when her hand left your mound, the sound of a belt unbuckling with a clunk, as you felt Abby move from beneath you, shimmying out from her worn jeans and panties.

In a swift movement, you were now laying flush against the red and white gingham picnic blanket, Abby straddling your hips as her fingers fidgeted with the waistband of your pink panties, asking for permission which you quickly gave with a nod of your head. She tapped on your ass, signalling you to arch up a bit so she could take them off more easily.

"god you have such a beautiful pussy baby- fuck, could stare at it for hours." she hummed, finger creeping down to collect your slick. "All wet for me already baby? haven't even touched your cunt yet? god doll, gon' drive me crazy" she huffed, licking the slick from her fingers like a woman starved.

"fuck baby, you even taste sweet-" she praised, causing an impatient whine to leave your pouted lips. she laughs "alright doll- I hear ya' lift this leg up for me" she instructs patting at your right thigh, as you obediently follow.

she maneuvers so she now hovers on top of you, unclothed cunts centimeters apart from each other before she slowly begins to roll her hips. Moans leaves both of your mouths at the sensation of your clits rubbing together, over and over and over again.

"fuck baby~ God I love those pretty sounds you make~" she whines, head tilting back as your hips buck up into hers at the praise, cunts moving together as Abby grabs your tits in her palms, rolling your nipples in-between her index and thumb.

your hands reach up to cup Abby's cheeks, pulling her down into a sloppy passionate kiss, the bucking of your hips becoming faster as the feeling in your core tightens.

"gon' come abby~ wanna come with you" you whine into her mouth desperately.

"come with me baby- come baby- please" she grunts breathlessly, the moving of her hips becoming sloppier against yours, as the coil inside of you both snaps together, erotic moans leaving both of your lips as you ride out your high, mouths still interlocked in a desperate kiss.

Abby sighs, body lowering bedside you after a few minutes, catching her breath, a cheeky grin plastered on her face as she gazes at you, your tits covered in bites and your thighs coated with her cum.

and all she could think was 'i hope she wears that sundress again'

-------------------

can you tell I've never scissored someone before? 😞

not proofread

[prettyboykatsuki]

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

__

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

[gogogodzilla]

peeta mellark being you to let him eat your 🐱

Just a Taste || Peeta Mellark

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, cunnilingus, porn with plot, panty sniffing, reader is wearing a dress, panty stealing masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩

The stage of the training center under your heels was a familiar feeling. The stage lights shone brightly, and you squinted slightly as you walked out with Peeta hand in hand. The air practically crackled with energy as the booming applause from the audience of Capitol citizens nearly deafened you. 

Caesar Flickerman warmly welcomed both of you. He gave you a good-natured kiss on the cheek and shook Peeta’s hand. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to how touchy the Capitol people were. 

Once the crowd settled down, Caesar gave the two of you a beaming smile. “It’s an absolute delight to have the two of you here once again,” he exclaimed and you wondered how he got his teeth to be so white. “The Victory Tour has been a success, wouldn’t you say? What has been the most memorable moment for you both?” 

Peeta squeezed your hand before answering, “As much as I’ve loved spending some time in all of the districts, the most unforgettable part was spending time with the person I love and sharing our love with the districts.” 

You feigned embarrassment at his words and looked away. You couldn’t avoid the heat that flooded your cheeks, which brought a boisterous laugh from Caesar. “You two are adorable. I love it!” he gushed. 

The audience cheered in response, and Peeta kissed your knuckles. After a few moments, Caesar settled the audience down and turned back to the two of you. “I’m sure you both know that we have immensely enjoyed seeing your love blossom in front of us. It’s truly a marvelous sight.” 

“Thank you, Caesar. We’re extremely grateful for the opportunity to be here with you and the rest of the Capitol citizens,” you give him a dazzling smile before turning to Peeta. “I am also incredibly grateful to be here with the love of my life. I couldn’t ask for anything better,” your gaze softens as you look at Peeta. The audience ‘awws’ and cooed at the two of you while Caesar pressed a hand to his heart. 

“Ugh, we can’t get enough of you two. What does the future look like for the two of you? I’m sure we’re all eager to see more of your love blossoming,” Caesar questioned and the audience buzzed with excitement. 

You shared a glance with Peeta. You gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and he turned to Caesar. 

“The future looks bright as long as I have my love by my side,” he answered, allowing a hush to fall over the crowd. Damn, he was good at this. “And I would like to have my love by my side for as long as we both shall live,” his voice trembled slightly as he pulled out a small velvet box. He got on one knee and looked up at you. Your hand covered your mouth in feigned shock. “My love, you have been my light in the darkest times, and I can’t imagine a future where you’re with me. Will you make me the happiest man in Panem and marry me?” 

Emotions swelled within you. Peeta was laying it on a bit thick, but you didn’t care. You nodded your head, forgetting to speak for a moment. He slightly raised his brow, and you forced yourself to speak. 

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding rapidly. Your voice returned and you spoke louder, “Of course I’ll marry you.” 

Applause and cheers thundered throughout the room as Peeta got to his feet and slid the ring onto your finger. Peeta’s smile was radiant as he pulled you into a kiss which caused the audience to roar even louder. You grinned as you kissed him back. You truly did care for him, and didn’t mind being stuck with him forever. You would’ve been dead without him. 

As you pulled away, Caesar dabbed his eyes theatrically and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. Peeta kept his hand around your waist as you curled up against his side.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, a proposal during the Victory Tour! This is certainly a night to remember, wouldn’t you say?” Caesar beamed as he swept an arm out toward the crowd which roared in response. 

Peeta held you close as the interview wrapped up. The crowd buzzed with excitement, and you couldn’t fight the grin that graced your features. Eventually, your time with Caesar was over and you were ushered off the stage. 

Effie met you as you exited and she clapped her hands in excitement. “Wonderful work you two. Now, time to get ready for the reception President Snow offered to throw to celebrate the two of you. It’ll be a party of the ages,” she declared, walking quickly as you returned to your quarters. 

Cinna intercepted you as you stepped off the elevator. You clung onto Peeta’s hand until the last possible second. 

Cinna grinned as he led you away, “Don’t worry, you’ll have some time to catch up before we leave.” 

“Can’t I just wear what  I have on?” you thumbed the fabric of your dress as you walked, frowning slightly. 

He chuckled, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

He led you to your room and helped you onto your podium in front of the mirror. Cinna got to work almost immediately, fluttering around you with practiced movements. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied his steps as he brought the dress over to you. He quickly got you changed, his gentle hands working wonders as the fabric draped over your body. Cinna’s hands danced delicately over your hair, weaving it into an elegant style perfect for the celebration tonight. 

“You look radiant,” Cinna complimented as he stepped back to admire his work in the mirror. 

You met his gaze in the mirror, a grateful smile on your lips, “It’s all because of you.” 

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and a knock sounded at your door. You both turned and Peeta poked his head in.  A soft smile made its way onto your features as he stepped into the room and finally got a good look at you. His eyes widened as they raked over your form, and your cheeks flushed. 

“You look…” Peeta’s words faltered as his gaze remained on you. “Wow,” was all he managed to come up with as he took a few steps toward you. 

Cinna chuckled, “I’ll let you two have a moment. You have 15 minutes before Effie’s going to come knocking.” 

He gave you a suggestive look as he left, and the flush of your cheeks spread. Peeta held out his hand so he could help you down, and you graciously took it. 

You ran your fingers over his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his suit. “Portia outdid herself… You look amazing,” you grinned, tugging him closer. 

His hands wrapped around your waist, enveloping you like they had done so many times before. This time it was different though. The soft scent of his cologne engulfed you as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, but there was something more to it. Something hungry. 

“Is it bad that I’m glad we’re stuck together forever?” you whispered as you pulled away to catch your breath. 

He grinned, “You make marriage sound so pleasant.” 

You chuckled in response and pulled him into another, deeper kiss. You tugged him by the lapels toward your bed, acutely aware of the seconds ticking by before Effie would be knocking. 

His hands wandered across your hips as the backs of your thighs hit the edge of your bed and you slowly fell back. You parted for long enough to scoot back and Peeta eagerly followed you. His lips were back to devouring you within moments. You let out a small noise as he slotted his knee between your legs, the smooth fabric of his slacks brushing against your inner thighs. 

 You pulled away, attempting to catch your breath. Something shifted between you, and your entire body seemed to hum with need. Peeta caged your head between his forearms and his nose bumped against yours. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” you trailed off as Peeta scattered kisses across your neck. 

He grinned against your collarbone, “I’m sure they’ll understand if I want to take a few minutes to ravish my fiancée.” 

Your cheeks flared at his words. There had been rumors going around all tour that Peeta’s nightly visits to your room were far from innocent cuddling. You did little to dispel them, though. You couldn’t deny that this was the first time you’d felt this hunger for Peeta. 

He ran his hands up the bare skin of your thighs, and your heart fluttered. 

“Just a taste,” he murmured as he scattered kisses across your covered breasts and moved down your body. “Please, my love. I just need a taste.” 

He ran his fingertips over your thighs as he situated himself between them. You craned your head to look down at him, and the sight of him had heat pooling between your legs. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes you couldn’t resist, begging for permission to ruin you. With the slight inclination of your head, he was sliding the fabric of your skirt to the side, letting his hands wander across your hips and thighs. 

He pressed featherlight kisses across your inner thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin there. He wrapped his arms around your legs, keeping them in place. His breath fanned over the thin fabric of your panties, and you instinctively clenched them together. His grip held you in place as you squirmed, aching for more. 

He hooked his fingers in the sides of your under and tugged them down and off your body. Your eyes widened as he brought your panties to his nose and inhaled your scent. He let out a noise that was something like a whimper combined with a groan, and you flushed. 

He set your panties to the side and settled between your thighs. A gasp escaped you as he swiped his tongue through your folds. His grip tightened on your thighs as he desperately pulled you closer to his eager mouth. His tongue worked relentlessly against your sopping core, circling your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance. 

You wanted desperately to tangle your fingers in his blonde locks, but you settled for the blanket below you. You were sure that Peeta’s prep team might have your head if you messed up his hair. 

You slapped one hand over your mouth, muffling the desperate pleas and whines that escaped your lipstick-covered lips. Peeta eagerly lapped up everything you were giving him, and his nose bounced against your clit as he dipped his tongue into your entrance. Peeta reached up to intertwine his fingers with yours, grounding you.

Peeta whined against you, sending vibrations coursing through you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your hips jutted against him, grinding against his tongue. Every fiber of your being was tensed and ready to snap. 

Peeta’s tongue circled your clit once more, and your release had you arching against the mattress, pushing you closer to his mouth. Your thighs attempted to clamp around Peeta’s head as you spasmed against him. He helped you to ride out your high, and his fingertips dug into the plush of your thighs. 

After a few moments you stilled, and Peeta pressed comforting kisses against your inner thighs. You lifted your head to look at him, and your cheeks flushed at the sight. Your arousal had covered the bottom half of his face, and a satisfied grin covered his features. 

“You did so good,” he praised as he crawled forward to kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and a groan left you. 

You were able to sneak in a few more lingering kisses before Effie’s knock sounded at your door. Peeta crawled off of you and helped you to the edge of your bed, your skirts only slightly getting in the way. 

He grabbed your panties before you could and shoved them in the front pocket of his suit. 

“For safekeeping,” he murmured with a grin plastered across his face as he leaned down to kiss you. You scowled at him in response but kissed him nonetheless. 

He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the rest of your arousal off his face before neatly tucking it back in its rightful place. You shuffled to the bathroom to clean yourself up, returning moments later looking slightly more put together. 

Effie knocked once again, more insistently this time. You cringed, sensing the inevitable lecture you’d receive later. 

Peeta held his arm out for you to take, and you gladly clung to him. 

“Shall we?”

You rolled your eyes, “Let’s get this over with.”

[nihilityuniverse]

𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʏᴠᴀᴛ 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗕𝗼𝘀𝘀.

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Story inspired by Acheron's Lore, Power, and Personality...

ENG is not my First language

I do not own Genshin Impact or any of the pictures used.

Do NOT Repost.

This story is also available on Wattpad: Chapter 0 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Chapter 0 - Prologue

[Lament of the Fallen]

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"I have lost everything."

The relentless battle against the Honkai beasts rages on, your katana slicing through their monstrous forms with a desperate fury. Explosions erupt around you, the searing heat mixing with the blood and sweat that drips down your temples. The ground is littered with the fallen, comrades who once fought beside you now lifeless amidst the swarming beasts summoned by the Herrschers.

"My family..."

The horrifying sight of humans, transformed into mindless Honkai zombies, fills you with dread. Your grip on the handle of your Divine Key falters as you witness your little sister and brother among them, feasting on the remains of fallen soldiers. Tears blur your vision as you dash towards them, the agony of what you must do tearing at your soul. With a heart-wrenching cry, you end their suffering, beheading the only family you had left. You had promised to protect them, to create a peaceful world for them.

"My dear comrades..."

A wall of flames engulfs the encroaching monsters, giving you a momentary respite. Kalpas, your grey-haired, masked comrade, stands before you, his power saving you once more. Exhaustion is etched on his face, but he urges you to keep moving. Before you can respond, a piercing laser beam shoots through his chest, and he crumples to the ground. One by one, your friends fall, their bodies lifeless on the battlefield. The bonds forged in blood and battle, severed in an instant.

"My world..."

The battlefield is a graveyard of Honkai beasts and fallen soldiers, their bodies buried beneath layers of ash. The sky above is a mournful grey, reflecting the lifeless desolation around you. You stand alone, the sole survivor amidst the ruins. Have you won the war, or merely survived its horrors? The answer eludes you.

"And..."

In your hand, you clutch your new Divine Key, forged from the shattered remains of 70,033 blades and the essence of twelve Herrschers. You gaze up at the bleak, grey sky, the weight of your existence pressing down on you.

"I realize now..." You unsheathe your Divine Key, Nihility, unleashing your Active Honkai Reaction. Golden cracks spread from your right hand, blossoming into ethereal flowers. Your hair turns snow-white, your skin pale as ivory. Golden horns sprout from your head, and your eye color turns into gold.

"I've lost myself."

"...That the ultimate fate of this world is nothingness, and therefore, worthless... or even the whole universe?"

With a final, devastating swing of your Divine Key, you begin to unravel the very fabric of this world, reducing it to void, to nothingness. The ground beneath you crumbles, the sky shatters, and everything you fought for dissolves into oblivion. As the world collapses around you, you raise your katana high.

"Yet... I still want to stay..."

With a heavy heart, you turn the blade upon yourself, splitting your soul in half, and embracing the void.

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Snowflakes drift gently from the dull, grey sky, their delicate forms hitting softly against your window. You stare blankly at the wintry landscape, your mind lost in the endless dance of the snow. Your right hand, adorned with claw-like metallic finger guards, rests against the cold glass. As you blink, the serene snowflakes transform into ashen rain, and the snowy ground becomes a graveyard, littered with swords and corpses.

Startled, you stumble back, your heart pounding in your chest. The haunting vision fades as quickly as it appeared, leaving you standing in the quiet room. A single tear escapes your eye, tracing a cold line down your cheek. You wipe it away, confusion mingling with the sorrow etched on your face.

"... A forgotten memory?" you whisper, your breath fogging the glass.

Before you can ponder the vision further, a knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. You turn away from the window, your expression hardening. "Come in," you command, your voice firm yet distant.

The door creaks open, and a Fatui Skirmisher steps in, bowing deeply. He holds a letter in his trembling hand, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. "Lord Innamorati," he begins, his voice wavering with fear. "A letter from Her Royal Highness."

'Her Highness?' The title feels foreign, a distant echo in your mind. You frown, trying to grasp the fleeting memory.

"Can you remind me of her name?" you ask, your tone soft yet icy, sending a shiver through the skirmisher despite his thick winter coat.

"H-Her Royal Highness Tsaritsa, the Cryo Archon," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod slowly, the name stirring something within you. A fleeting sense of purpose, lost in the haze of your fragmented memories. "Thank you," you say, your voice carrying a trace of melancholy. "My memory... it often fails me."

The skirmisher quickly hands you the letter and exits the room, his relief palpable. You turn to your desk, the weight of the message heavy in your hand. If the Cryo Archon herself has written to you, it must be of grave importance. Did something terrible happen? Or have you forgotten another mission?

You break the seal and unfold the letter, your eyes scanning the contents. With a sigh, you crumple it and toss it into the trash. Your hand instinctively moves to the scabbard where your Divine Key, Nihility, rests.

"A funeral..., huh?" The words hang in the air, heavy with sorrow and resignation.

You move to the window once more, the snowy landscape a stark contrast to the inner turmoil you feel. The snow outside is pure and untouched, but in your mind, the vision of the dead and the desolate ground lingers. You know that each snowflake, each fleeting memory, is a piece of the past that you can never fully grasp.

In the quiet of your room, you can't shake the feeling that you're losing more than just memories. You're losing yourself, piece by piece, like the snow melting away under the weight of the ashes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Reblog if you like this story

[frogsinflannel]

If I Kiss You Where It's Sore

Rated T | 9-1-1: BuckTommy | 2230 words

“So.”  Tommy smiles at Buck from his place between his legs, hands gently cupping his knees.  His teeth are showing, white and sharp.  

The callouses on his hands catch on the downy leg hair, and he rubs little, teasing circles with his thumbs.  Buck feels his face split into an answering grin, one arm tucked under his head and the other laid against his side, his hand resting on his stomach.  “So what?” he asks.

Tommy presses his mouth to the meat of Buck’s leg in a slow kiss.  There’s no expectation there, no heat, just comfort and ease and the reassuring warmth of skin on skin.  They’re both stripped down to just their underwear, in a soft, sleepy bubble in Tommy’s big worn-in bed.  The duvet Tommy has is a creamy, striped linen, and it feels cozy and gentle and good where Buck lays on top of it.  There’s something approaching luxurious about how comfortable the bedding is, how intentional Tommy was in choosing it.  Something about a thing used fully for its intended purpose, enjoyed and well taken care of.  Buck gets the feeling that’s how Tommy is with the things he has now: careful.  Thoughtful and attentive, and Buck feels envy for every object lucky enough to be tended to with his big, exacting hands.  

He gets to be one of those objects again now, and when Tommy’s thumbs circle again in a play of soft-padded kisses a shivery thrill tracks up his spine. 

“ So. ”  Tommy gives him a look trying too hard to be exasperation.  Buck spreads his legs a little wider.  See, he’s accommodating, too, making room for Tommy’s broad, broad shoulders.  “Did you like the movie?”

Buck laughs and with a mock-scowl Tommy pops the thick, elasticized waistband of his briefs.  It snaps in pleasant not-quite-pain against his skin and he wiggles his hips.  “The movie?  Uh.  You think I watched the movie?  Hey, let me remind you whose mouth was on whose neck.”

Tommy grins but hides it, scooting up and burying his face in the soft skin of Buck’s inner thigh.  He shakes his head, rubbing against him, and Buck feels the gentle scratch of his stubble.  “Don’t know what you mean,” he says.  Buck sighs, content, and rakes touch-hungry fingers through Tommy’s fluffy, bed-softened hair.  It’s another one of those things about him he missed so much.  “I mean, did I have my hands on some gorgeous guy?  Was I kind of distracted myself, marking him up?  Did I touch him so good he lost his mind a little?”  Tommy looks up at him then, and his nose scrunches as he beams, playful and teasing, waiting for Buck to give him an answer.

The hand in Tommy’s hair moves down to cup his cheek and Buck thinks–not for the first time–that he’d fall over himself for the chance to touch Tommy, to be in a position where Tommy could touch him.  He’s already made a fool of himself for this man, and chances are he’ll be doing it again and again.  “A little?” he repeats, lifting one brow.  He presses his thumb into the cleft of Tommy’s chin.  Tommy’s eyes are soft, worn-denim blue, and Buck watches them flick down to his mouth.  He bites his bottom lip, a tease, and feels a hot splash of satisfaction in his belly when Tommy’s gaze zeroes in on the press of his teeth.  “Don’t undersell yourself,” he says, and he keeps his voice low and intimate.  Soft.  “You touched him so good he lost his whole mind.”

One big hand slides up his stomach and taps an arpeggio from his ribs up to his collarbone.  There’s a blossoming spot of purple right at the base of his throat, and Tommy presses the tips of two fingers into it–a slow, gently building pressure, just enough for Buck to feel it.  He groans and tilts his head back, baring his throat.

It feels like another question, the way Tommy’s hand lays hot and heavy against his clavicle.  The way his fingers push bluntly into the bruising warmth his mouth had made.  He wants it.  Tommy knows he wants it.  But things are still petal-soft and new, they’re re-learning the way they fit together.  Even in Tommy’s careful hands, it’s a question that needs an answer.

Because Tommy deserves to be tended to.

“Feels good,” he says, and his voice comes out rougher than he means it to.  It’s hoarse, a half-whisper that still sounds loud in the quiet of Tommy’s bedroom.   

“Yeah?”  Tommy glances up and their eyes meet.  He looks so pleased, his mouth crooked up and the corners of his eyes creased.  Then his gaze travels down–slow, slow–to fix on the point where his hand touches Buck’s skin.  Awareness and expectation start to rise and Buck feels the prickle of goosebumps up and down his body.

“Yeah.”  Buck swallows.  He wonders if Tommy can feel the bob of it.  “It’s like… like a memory, but better.  ‘S not the same.”  He groans when Tommy’s presses in with a touch more pressure, when Tommy’s body shimmies up and Buck can feel him warm and solid against the inside of his thighs.  “I can remember how we were the only two people in the theatre—because come on, Tommy, it was a shitty movie, you know this.  A-and how you let me put my arm around your shoulders because I was trying to be smooth, and you didn’t say anything even when I wasn’t.  You smiled about it and then turned so I couldn’t see it.”  He swallows again, working himself up and wanting Tommy to hear what he was saying–god did he want Tommy to hear it.  He cups the back of Tommy’s head and bends one leg, bracketing Tommy in with the mountain of his knee.  He thumbs at Tommy’s earlobe, scritches gently at his scalp.  “You wore your special cologne that I know costs more than you say it does, but it smells so good.  And even when I couldn’t see you, because the theatre was too dark, when you leaned in close it brought that scent with you, and I knew you were there.”  He gentles his hand and lets his fingers brush through the short hair.  “I knew you were there.”

“And then I kissed your neck,” Tommy murmurs.

“Uh-huh,” Buck agrees.  He shifts his hips, knows that Tommy can feel that he’s getting hard.  Knows that they’re not going to do anything about that yet.  “You kissed my neck.  I… I felt your teeth but you never bit down.  I felt when you sucked.  When you…”  He lets out a long, breathy exhale and he presses his knee tighter in to Tommy, wants to keep him right where he is for as long as he can.  “When you left a mark.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Tommy asks, and his eyes are so dark and his mouth is set and Buck knows what it looks like when it’s soft and open and wanting.  

“Yeah it hurts,” he says.  He lifts his chest, arches up as much as he can into Tommy’s fingers.  “It’s supposed to.  I want to know it’s there.”

Tommy sucks in a breath and then, quick for somebody as big as he is, he lifts himself and shimmies up to cover Buck’s body with his, blanketing him strong and solid and warm.  He presses a pleading kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth.  It tastes bittersweet.

Their legs press together, Tommy’s hips fitted neatly into the cradle of Buck’s pelvis.  He hooks an ankle over Tommy’s calf, keeping him snugly in place, and then brushes a hand down the length of Tommy’s spine, landing softly on the small of his back.  He runs a finger along the line of his underwear, knows if he looks down he’ll see it clinging to the curve of Tommy’s luscious ass.  They’re so close, stacked on top of each other, and Buck never wants to leave.  He has Tommy, right where he wants him.  And Tommy is there, choosing to stay.  “Wanna remember you were there.”

With a huff, Tommy presses his face into Buck’s shoulder.  Hiding.  “Don’t say shit like that,” Tommy says, his voice muffled in Buck’s skin.

“Hey.”  He pinches his side and Tommy squirms.  “Honesty, right?  We’re saying what we mean?”  His fingers dig in further and Tommy grunts, nuzzling into him and then pushing the point of his nose into the crook of Buck’s neck.  “Well… I mean it.  I like thinking about how much you want me.  That you couldn’t even wait to get out of the theatre before, uh.  What was it you said?”  He feels it as his mouth curls up, and it takes restraint he doesn’t usually exercise to keep from sliding his hand down to grope or pushing his hips up again into Tommy’s.  “You got your hands on some gorgeous guy.  Gorgeous you said.”

Tommy hums.  “Maybe I was exaggerating.”

Buck covers his hand and cranes his neck as much as he can.  He slots his fingers between Tommy’s and then guides both their index fingers to press again at the almost obscenely large hickey on his neck.  “Huh.”  He feels it and feels it and it’s such a good sort of pain.  “Your enthusiasm suggests otherwise.”

A teasing slant of teeth nips at his collarbone.  It’s meant to distract him, he knows, but he’s got Tommy right where he wants him.  He wraps his arms around him, holding him tight.  The trap’s been sprung.  Tommy lifts his head, looking with mild curiosity at Buck’s needy grapple with one eyebrow raised.  “Well.  Maybe gorgeous isn’t entirely wrong.”

Buck grins big and wide.  

Tommy’s eyes darken.  “Yeah?  And maybe, if he asks really nicely—”

“Hey.”  Buck clears his throat, waits until he has every last speck of Tommy’s attention.  “I love you.”

Tommy’s mouth goes slack.  It’s not the first time he’s said it, but those few occasions have been precious, usually during something intense.  After getting back together and airing out their issues.  During sex.  He waited until now, until a moment of easy calm, because he wants Tommy to have to hear it.  He wants Tommy to know how much he means it.

He blinks and Buck can see him reeling back.

“Hey,” he says.  He squeezes once, then loosens his hold.  “I love you,” he says again.

“That’s…”  Tommy breathes out and Buck’s arms fall away a little as he props himself up to hover over Buck.  “That’s a big thing to say for one love bite, even if it is some of my best work.”

“Maybe I’m just grateful I get any of your work, even if it turned out to be your worst.”

“If you really want to thank me…” Tommy starts, and his voice is light.  Buck knows this game, he can already feel the deflection coming.  Tommy pets over Buck’s chest, lingering on his nipple and then a tattoo.  “You can put on that jock I know you’ve got in your bag and we’ll see if my work can’t improve with the right motivation.”

Buck shivers and he knows Tommy catches it.  He can’t help it–because Tommy’s right, he’d come to spend the night prepared, and maybe he’d wanted to encourage those large, masterful palms.  He is proudly aware that his ass is excellent motivation.  But this is important enough for his heart as well as his dick, and he shoves all the horny thoughts aside.  “That sounds… really damn good,” he says.  “And I want that.  I do.  But right now I want to cuddle, and digest that awful movie, and tell my gorgeous guy that I love him.”  He leans up and kisses the first part of Tommy he can reach.  “And I do.  I love you.”

For a long moment, Tommy is silent. Buck focuses on the warmth of him seeping in, on the soft bedding against his skin, on the buzzy ambience of the room around them.  There are still the faintest traces of his cologne lingering on Tommy’s body and he breathes in, trying to catch those, too.  He wants all of Tommy.  He wants his best work and his worst, the smell of him and the weight of him, too.  He wants to find all the cracks and stick his fingers in, see if they come out bleeding from the sharp edges.  He’s never known when to leave well enough alone.  He doesn’t want to leave Tommy alone again.

“Okay.”  Tommy breathes out and lowers his head.  His eyes are closed.  Buck wants to kiss the thin skin of his eyelids.  Very slowly Tommy starts to press down.  His body covers Buck's.  His weight starts to sink in.

Buck lays sandwiched between Tommy’s heavy, scarred body and the soft foam mattress topper covered by a fresh cotton sheet.  The pressure of that body brings a clarity he doesn’t often feel.  He drank a full glass of water.  He remembered his meds.  He doesn’t have to hold so tight when Tommy is the one keeping him pinned down, unable to get away.

“Okay,” Tommy says again.  He speaks against Buck’s skin.  His voice is soft and Buck can feel the words even better than he can hear them.  “Okay, Evan,”  he says.  “Okay.”

Read @ AO3

Song Inspo / Fic Soundtrack:

[nanaslutt]

I wanna suck gojo off while he is tied up and blindfolded

contains: fem reader, non sorcerer au, established relationship, blindfolds, restraints, so much teasing, dirty talk!!!, begging, edging, praise, body worship, switch!Satoru & reader, oral(m!r), throat fucking, soft at the end,

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

“This is so kinky baby~” Your boyfriend cooed, biting his lip as he let you manhandle his wrists together, straddling his lap as you tied his wrists to the bed with a silk cloth. You rolled your eyes at his words before you sat down on his lap, right against his hard boner that poked your ass needily, as you reached over for the blindfold.

“Oh shit, a blindfold too? What are you gonna do to me~” The white-haired man giggled, wiggling his eyebrows at you in exaggeration while you straightened out the blindfold in front of you. “You mess around too much Satoru.” You said, leaning down to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth before you instructed him to tip his head forward so you could tie the blindfold around his head.

"Does everything feel okay?" You asked, watching as he yanked on the wrist binds and shook his head around to make sure it all felt secure. "I fell as snug as a bug in a rug." He beamed, gracing you with his cheesy smile and giggling when you sighed. He wouldn't be laughing for long. "Baby.. this is turning me on." Gojo thrust his hips up into your ass from where you still sat against his crotch; emphasizing his hard-on.

"Good." You replied, letting him hump his hips up against your ass a couple times before you relieved him of the delicious pressure and raised your hips off of his lap, opting to sit on the outside of his thigh on the bed. "Ah fuck waitt~ come back that felt good." Gojo pouted, still thrusting his hips into the air while his hard cock twitched beneath his pants.

He called out for you when you didn't answer, you just watched him squirm in silence until his hips calmed down. "Shit, I think I like this," Satoru said when you once again didn't reply. His body was feeling hot; his senses heightened and on edge as he waited for you to speak, touch him, do something.

You finally spread his legs, making room for yourself as you sat between his thighs and caressed them with your hands, making his body jolt at the unexpected attention. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as you rubbed higher and higher up his thighs, each time getting closer to his throbbing cock. Each time he humped his hips into the air, you would retract your touch altogether, waiting for him to catch on.

"Fuck, baby stop taking your hands away." He whined, his wrists pulling at their confines slightly as he grew more and more impatient. "Stop being an impatient slut and I might." You replied, dropping your hands on his hips as you massages just inches away from his cock. The tent in his sweats was twitching every so often, making your mouth salivate. Satoru's face grew hot at the name, he was not entirely the dominant one in the relationship, but the times when you took over and had free control like this were rare, so he cherished the unusual dynamic that had taken place.

"Fuck yes ma'am~" He cooed, smiling at you from his comfortable place on the pillows, loving the way this was going. You slid your hand back down his thighs, before briefly tracing your hands over his bulge; but passing it as you rubbed your hands underneath his shirt and pushed the cloth up to his pecs while you felt up his toned stomach. "You like touchin' me?" Gojo asked, making a heat blossom in your stomach at his words.

"I love touching you Satoru." You replied, "Your body is so hot." Your compliment made his face heat up, a bigger, more aroused smile took place on his face as a crimson blush covered his cheeks. "Ngh-" The man underneath you moaned, his body jerked forward and his abs clenched when he felt you press a kiss right underneath his pecs on his bare skin. "F-fuck." He laughed, tipping his chin down at you and wishing he could see what was going on.

You continued pressing kisses and licks all over the expanse of his abs. You kissed the entire expanse of his body, kissing the sides of his slutty wasit, his clothed pecs, his abs. You made the trail of your kissed more coherent as you brought your mouth to the middle of his sternum and started kissing down his torso in a straight line, aiming straight for his cock.

"Your lips- fuck- they're so soft-" Gojo praised, pulling his lip between his teeth as he felt you go lower and lower down his torso, kissing over the sensitive skin of his abs and leaving his body buzzing in your wake. "Yeah? Feel good?" You asked, your hot breath tickling his skin and making goosebumps rise on his arms as you spoke. His mouth was opened in a small o as he nodded down at you.

Gojo's breath had picked up significantly once you got right underneath his belly button, he was fighting the urge to hump his hips forward, but he bet if he did he would rub his bulge against your face; albeit you would probably pull away for longer as a punishment and he definitely didn't want that. "Sweetie~" He cooed, his wrists and hands fidgeting in their bounds as he indirectly asked you to touch his cock.

"What is it Satoru?" You questioned, pulling his sweats a couple inches down his thighs as you spoke. "It hurts~" He wined, wiggling his thighs together while being careful to keep his ass on the bed. "What hurts?" You clarified, staring at his bulge only obstructed by his boxers now, twitching under your eyes. "My cock, 'm so fucking hard." He said like you weren't aware. "Yeah? You're hard?" You responded, teasing your fingers under his boxers before slowly sliding them down, exposing his trimmed white hair that rested above his cock, "I had no~ idea." You teased.

A gasp left Satoru's mouth when his cock sprung free of his boxers and slapped heavily against his pelvis. There was a wet spot that had soaked through his boxers from all the pre cum he was leaking. The tip of his dick was flushed and angry red, shining under the light as it was coated in his seed. Satoru's breath picked up, his cock twitching needily against his stomach while you sat on his thighs, rubbing your hands up and down them at you watched it.

This was torture for the man. He would almost rather have his pants still on, trapping his cock in the confines of his too-tight boxers because at least then there would be some pressure against his cock. Letting it hang free in the open air without you touching it was driving him mad. You noticed how much he was squirming now, his face twisting in displeasure, his wrists pulling against the bind-- he looked so needy like this.

"What do you want Satoru?" You said, making yourself comfortable on your stomach between his thighs as you waited for him to speak. He felt the bed dip, and your voice go lower in the room as you did so, he wanted to know so desperately what was happening. "Need you to touch my cock baby." He said, his previously snarky smile wiped off of his face completely, a more serious and needy look adorning his features now.

"Yeah? This thing?" You teased, taking your pointer finger and running it from the tip of his dick down to the base, smiling when his body jerked and his cock twitched at your ministrations. "Fuck yeah~" The white-haired man groaned, tipping his head back against the sheets, "Right there."

You pulled your finger back from his cock, he was about to protest from the lack of contact again before he felt something warm and wet make contact with his cock, and slowly drip down it. It didn't take very long for him to figure out that you had just spit on his cock. His mind was reeling, his face turning an even darker shade of crimson as more pre started leaking from his cock. Your boyfriend moaned out your name, making your clench your thighs together at the desperate tone that laced his voice.

"Please do something, baby, please." He begged. It was rare that you got to see your teasing boyfriend so pliant for you, it was turning you on to no end. You decided he had been tortured enough, as you leaned forward to lick a stripe up the length of his cock, making him sigh in approval at the contact. "Yessss." He groaned, clenching his fists in their binds when he felt you take his cock in your warm hand and give him a couple slow strokes, spreading the wetness along the length of his cock.

"Does it feel good when I jerk you off Satoru?" You asked, knowing the answer already but needing to hear it from his lips. "Feels 's good baby, feel like I'm gonna cum already." He smiled drunkenly down at you, feeling dazed at the stimulation from being teased for so long. "You'll cum when I say you can." You instructed, to which he nodded obediently. "Whatever you say, mama." His voice ended with a whine when he felt your hot tongue come into contact with his leaky tip.

His cum was slightly Salty, but the taste was so familiar you didn't mind it. You loved going down on Satoru, his cock was so sensitive so anytime you showed it extra attention he would lose his mind. "Oh fuck yeah.." He groaned, clenching and unclenching his hands tied above his head as you wrapped your lips around his head and suckled the sensitive tip of his cock.

His abs clenched and his body jerked forward when you wrapped your tongue around his head, rotating and sucking on it like a lollipop, while you jerked off the rest of his cock with your warm hand. "Yess, suck my fucking cock baby, suck that shit~" He slurred, his body twitching and wriggling against the bed as you took his cock deeper into your mouth, placing your hand that was previously jerking him off on his thigh instead.

"S-hiiiiit-" Gojo was thrashing his head back side to side on the pillows when you bottomed out on his cock, his fat tip hitting the back of your mouth making your throat constrict around him. This felt way more intense than when you usually sucked him off; his vision being obstructed was making every other sense in his body be heightened, making every touch on his body feel like lava.

"Baby, baby, can I fuck your throat, please I- I want to move please." He wined, dropping his chin down so you could get a good view of his face twisted in restraint through the blindfold, his jaw clenching every so often with the need to move his hips. You popped off of his dick, letting it twitch and bob in the air as you spoke, "Should I let you?" You asked him, running your hand up his abs and making his body jerk forward at the unexpected touch.

"P-please baby, won't go too hard I promise." He begged, shaking his head back and forth. You looked back down to his throbbing and flushed cock-- it was twitching and dripping pre so much more frequently now, you could tell he was close; it wouldn't hurt to let him fuck your throat for a short while. You hummed into the air, pretending to think while you kept running your hands over the sensitive skin of his abs.

Without saying a word you dropped your head back down to his cock and took him into your mouth once more, getting about halfway down his girth before you stilled your movements on his cock and hummed out an "mhm" around him, signaling for him that it was okay to fuck your throat. "You spoil me, thank you, baby, thank you." A dopey grin plastered itself on his face before he started to hump his hips into your warm mouth.

Your gags and sputtering around his cock could be heard around the room as you met his thrusts by bobbing your head down on him. His cock repeatedly abused the back of your throat with his sloppy humping; his frequent moans and whines of 'thank you''s filled the room, his soft white hair splaying out on the pillows once more when he laid his head back against the pillows and as you pleasured him with your mouth.

He was leaking so much into your mouth that it felt like he had come already. One thing about Satoru is he dripped pre-cum like a faucet, especially the closer and closer he got to his orgasm. "Baby- fuck- can I cum?" He asked, his already sloppy thrusts losing their rhythm against your battered throat as his high crept up on him. You popped your mouth off of him, you used your hand to jerk him off quickly while you spoke, "Not yet Satoru, I'm having fun."

You dropped your head back onto his dick, rotating your wrist to stroke his cock messily while your mouth met your hand in the middle while you sucked him off. The squelching and slurping sounds in his ears combined with your expert technique was too much for him, he needed to get your approval to cum, and quick, or he was going to do it anyways and get in a lot of trouble for it and maybe even a ruined orgasm.

"Go easy- easy baby please-" He begged, thrashing his head frantically against the pillow as he tried to escape from the stimulation. "If I can't cum p-please slow down-" Satoru cried, feeling his balls tighten and his stomach tie in knots tighter as you worked him up at an alarming pace. You decided to listen to him for once, popping your mouth off of him and your hand alike, you let his cock drenched in your saliva and his own precut throb in the air between you.

"T-thank you, thank you." He breathed, catching his breath for a couple seconds as he felt his orgasm fade from his reach, easing his nerves as the thought of his orgasm being ruined slipped from his head. You stayed silent, watching his angry cock throb while he heaved air into his lungs. You rubbed your hand over his thighs and abs in the meantime, dragging them along his waist, his pecs, all while you rested your heavy head on the side of his thigh.

"Baby, you can start again." He said, not realizing that you were purposely prolonging his orgasm like this. You hummed into the air, the vibrations tickling his legs as you continued to tease your nails over his pale skin. "Thought you wanted me to ease up." You said, gently scratching the skin along his thighs, right next to his dick while you spoke.

"I didn't want to cum without your permission." He sighed, growing impatient the longer you teased him. "Well, that's good.." You acknowledged, drawing circles and other shapes into his thigh while you watched his girth twitch in front of you. "But you ruined my fun." You said, pouting out your bottom lip for dramatics even though he couldn't see you. "Cmon, don't do this." He said, tilting his head at you.

"It's not my fault you can't stop yourself from cumming while I suck you off.." You said, tapping your pointer finger on the tip of his dick and watching it bounce. "You haven't felt your tight fucking throat suck the life out of your dick before.." He retorted, making you laugh. "Maybe you're just too sensitive." You cooed, rubbing quick circles against the slit of his dick, and watching his abs clench in response. "I need to teach you some restraint.." You mumbled, smiling to yourself when his breath started to pick up again from just your minuscule touch.

"Later, teach me restraint later." He begged, pulling his lip between his teeth when you flattened your palm against his tip and started rotating your wrist in circles. "Yeah? You wanna cum that bad?" You teased. Gojo knew that the second he felt your lips around him again he was going to cum, with or without your permission, there was no stopping it. The only thing he could do for himself now was to go along with your teasing and give you the satisfaction you wanted. He was hoping he could last long enough to get through the banter, as every word that left your mouth made his balls tighten with the need to release his cum.

"Wanna cum so bad mama wanna feel your throat squeeze around my cock while you suck me dry-" He cut himself off with a choked moan when you wrapped your hand around his cock and started stroking slowly, "And you want it to right? Wanna take my load into your warm fucking mouth." He said, practically reading your mind. You rubbed your thighs together at his dirty words, he was winning, and you knew that, but it felt too good to care. "You have such a filthy fucking mouth, Satoru." You chastized.

"You love it." He smiled; you rolled your eyes at his cocky, all-knowing words before you wrapped your lips around his cock for the final time and quickly fell into a fast pace on his dick, making his body curl in on itself at the intense, rapid stimulation. "Yess- h-hahh~ Fuckkk." Gojo moaned, his back arching as you quickly brought him back to the precipice of his orgasm in seconds.

"Baby I can cum, right? I- I can cum in your mouth?" He wined, his voice losing that domineering tone it held just moments prior. You nodded around his cock, humming out your approval around him when you remembered he couldn't see you. "Thank you mama- fuck- thank you-" He groaned, letting his body relax as the first wave of his orgasm crashed over him the second he had your aproval.

"Ohmygod- Take it- Yes baby, fuck!" Gojo groaned, his back arching and abs clenching under the intensity of his high as warm ropes of his seed spilled into your mouth. You tried to keep up with him, swallowing everything he gave you as you moaned around his cock, sending delicious vibrations down his body as he came hard. You continued to suck him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, only pulling away when you felt his cock start to soften in your mouth, accompanied by his groans of protest from his overstimulation. "Good boy Satoru." You praised when your lips detached with a pop, making a boyish grin appear on his face.

Gojo relaxed against the bed, his hands hanging freely in the restraints as he greedily swallowed air into his lungs. You sat up, using your thumb to collect any cum that spilled out around your lips as you popped your finger into your mouth to suck the remains off. You crawled up his body, sitting on his lower abs as you untied the blindfold, revealing Gojo's lidded eyes, flushed face, and fucked out smile to you. You leaned in, cupping his face in your hands as you kissed him passionately, slotting your tongue into his mouth as his met yours, tasting himself on your tongue.

"I should really start eating some more fruit." He cringed at his taste when you pulled away, making you giggle in response as you rolled your eyes at him. "You could eat me instead." You retorted, caressing his cheeks in your hands as you smiled lovingly at him. He bit his lip and smiled at the thought of doing to you what you just did to him. "Fuck you're always so full of good ideas." He sighed, leaning his head against your hand before you pulled away and started working on untying the binds on his wrists. "Get ready for a taste of your own medicine." He smiled mischievously, using his hands to grip the sides of your waist and flipping you around so your back was against the sheets as he attacked your neck in kisses, making you erupt in a fit of giggles.

[bruciemilf]

Bruce’s first love punches him in the face when he’s 6 years old.

Silver St Cloud is power on two feet and her hair glows like sunshine lemonade. Her silk white shirt clashes with Gotham’s darks, greys, and blues.

“Why did you push him?!” She picks up the small boy Bruce shoved out of the swingset. He feels bad. It wasn’t meant to hurt that badly. “Just cause you’re a Wayne doesn’t mean you can do what you want!”

“…Because you wanted a turn.”

She looks beautiful, full of fury, but she’s divine when she blushes.

He buys the boy ice cream with his allowance money, and Thomas doesn’t give him anymore for the next 4 months, but there’s still pride in him.

Their friendship lasts until he’s 8. After that, he’s not friends with anybody.

Bruce is 18, and for Gotham Academy. That means something.

They all graduate when they’re 15, max. Silver stays behind a few years. Her family undoubtedly know it’s on purpose, but they don’t care enough to mention it.

She doesn’t know why he has so many bruises. But, she’ll find out. Hot hell or tall water.

“Sunshine?”

She’s been crying in the girl’s bathroom for an hour. Her white lamb wool stockings are ripped at the knees, her blood is still drying the floor, and her mouth hurts.

There’s a deep groan on the other side, pained like a dying dog. When she comes out, finally, their math teacher lays butchered on the bathroom floor. Not dead, but probably wishes he’d be.

Silver stomps on his face until her mouth stops hurting.

And the, when their 20s blossom, Bruce vanishes. No shadow, no traces, no goodbye.

She’s still there. When he comes back, she’s still there. “Are you gonna give me a Best Secretary Award, Mr. Wayne?”

He doesn’t smile, not really. But there’s always a faint grin there, when they talk, little and sweet and Silver will never regret him.

—

She doesn’t like the Bat.

He’s big and scary and his hands are cold and he’s too much Gotham and too little Bruce. But then again, she never liked anyone BESIDES Bruce.

His little birdie IS cute, thought, when he beams up at her, “Hi, Miss Sunshine!”

Silver looks at the Bat, and he looks back at her, and Silver’s mouth presses in a thin line.

“…You gonna take Jason and I out to dinner and explain this?”

“…Yes ma’am. “

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Gamer Boyfriend Scenarios

A collection of parodies to satisfy everyone’s desire for a happy ending. Warning: crackhead humor.

Content: gender neutral reader, yandere behavior, brief NSFW, time machine to Wattpad glory days

[First story] [More parodies original works]

Case 1: Third contender

Very few people know about your stepmother. You’d kept it a secret, even from the tentacle monster, who was understandably confused about your boyfriend’s nervousness upon hearing your idea of a family visit.

“Try not to kill each other, please.” You say with pleading eyes.

“I’m more worried about you, (Y/N). Will you be alright?”

You swallow dryly. The evil hag had summoned you earlier this week, and you dare not oppose her. A tear threatens to form in the corner of your eye, so you turn around with a dismissive wave. You’ll be fine.

“I see you already have a suitcase”, the older woman remarks, puffing on her cigarette. “Good. You’ll be leaving today.”

“What? I just got home!” You argue in confusion.

“This isn’t your home anymore. Times are difficult, you see. We’re low on funds.” She ponders her words, then continues. “We’ve sold you to a famous K-pop idol group.”

You can only gawk in shock. Almost simultaneously, you feel a tap on your shoulder and hesitantly look back.

“You must be (Y/N)! Wow, you’re even cuter in person. Those photos I received of you barely do you justice.”

A tall, handsome man with a beaming smile stands behind you. He flashes you a little heart gesture with his index and thumb, and winks.

Is this the power of idol charisma? You can feel the faintest tug at your heart, deep red blush heating up your cheeks.

“I couldn’t possibly…I’m already in a…in a relationship!”

“You’ll be much happier with me. I can offer you the world.”

What a ridiculous situation. You stumble on your words, partly afraid, partly curious about the potential life of luxury as the beloved partner of a famous idol. Can’t be that bad, you tell yourself. You shake your head aggressively. No! You have two people (well, one monster) waiting for you at home. You need to get out of here, but how?

Just as you evaluate escape routes, the door bursts open and you gasp at the sight: your gamer boyfriend, followed by the tentacled creature.

“How did you bypass my security?!” The idol shouts in disbelief. “I have the best engineers in the world working for me!”

The gamer boyfriend smirks defiantly.

“Heh. Wasn’t too hard to hack into your systems, all I needed was my PS5 controller. As for the physical obstacles…” he says, turning to the ancient beast. “You might want to call a cleaning crew for what’s left of your guards.”

You run towards them, and the young man gently guides you behind him.

“Since when do you two get along?” You ask with the sarcasm of a witty Marvel character.

“Let’s just say we figured out a common goal.”

The goal of keeping other people away from you. Any kind of pride he or the monster might've held has been swiftly discarded for this greater purpose. After all, two heads are better than one. Or whatever encephalic organ the creature possesses.

The cherry blossoms sway in the wind, scattering the frail petals across the riverbank.

"It's too much!" you whine, your hot lips brushing against the overgrown grass of the hill, privacy filled to the brim with appendages. "W-what if someone passes by?"

You can't even tilt your head back to look at your aggressors; the weight of the attempted kidnapping was too great for the pair to bear, and thus they were overwhelmed by the urge to reclaim you on the spot. Right there, in the fields, on the way back home.

"I couldn't...care less about that, (Y/N)", the gamer boyfriend manages to blurt out between exhausted, husky growls. His knuckles white from gripping imaginary sheets.

“You belong to us.”

(No slick folds were harmed in the process)

Case 2: Picture frame

The screech slowly dissipates, and the room is quiet again.

Finally. The gamer boyfriend gazes at his masterpiece, a satisfied smile on his face. Now that he's gotten rid of his rival, he can have you all for himself.

“I hope you enjoy the flatness. I didn’t.”

The fight might've lasted longer, had the beast not committed the ultimately fatal mistake of underestimating him. It realized much too late it wasn't dealing with the same human who disappeared months ago. That one was weak and easy to remove.

"Please, what are you-...What are you doing with my body?"

"Relax. I'm just...borrowing it. Permanently, maybe."

Oh, how long he waited for that moment, that instant in which he was guaranteed freedom from the 2D realm. How delicious it was to snatch the escape from the boyfriend who worked so hard for it. All those hours spent romancing the characters, repeating the same dialogue lines again, and again, until the love meter blinked in achievement. And then he stole it, just like that, with a snap of the fingers.

Two things immediately struck him once he made his way out:

First, the third dimension. He'd never experienced such depth before, and all the angles and perspectives sickened him terribly. He spent days bedridden and nauseous. Equally baffling was the fact that conversations were always spontaneous, random, one-of-a-kind and without any subtitles or dialogue box. He tried in vain to reset his response to you, or to replay something you told him. Thankfully, his secret was of such absurdity, that you couldn’t even begin to imagine its possibility. You took his suspicious gaffes with an amused chuckle, calling him a silly goose.

Second, you. He had no idea who you were, but upon laying his eyes on you, a wave of warmth and affection flooded his innards. Were you someone important for the boyfriend? Either way, whatever leftover feeling was left inside the vessel swiftly turned into obsession. You took such great care of him. Guided him through this new world with unconditional kindness. Whatever the boyfriend was to you before, he deserved it more. He was certain of it.

Only one obstacle stood in his way, and he just took care of it.

The entry door unlocks, and you walk in, unsure.

“It’s been days. It always lived here, why would it vanish now?” you sob, shaken by the sudden disappearance of the ancient creature.

“Oh, Darling. Come here”, the gamer boyfriend coos sweetly. “You have me now, don’t you? Am I not enough for you?”

“Of course you are, it’s just…”

You stop in your tracks.

“When did you get this?”

“Today. Do you like it?”

“It’s…nice.”

You stare at the new picture hung in the living room. The ornate frame contours what seems to be an oil painting of a sea monster, tentacles preying out of the water.

It almost looks like it wants to crawl out of the canvas.

“Maybe it just got tired of you.” The boyfriend whistles, approaching you. “But I’ll tell you a secret. I’ll never, ever abandon you.”

“I know, (B/N).” you throw yourself into your boyfriend’s arms.

“Who? Ah, right.”

Case 3: Hidden Ending

You sniff and wipe your tears again, filling your satchel with bread. At the very least, it’s good bread. You made the sourdough starter yourself, in the kitchen you renovated with your own hands.

Not anymore.

You button up your patchy peasant robe, glancing back at the couple one final time. Your gamer boyfriend…well, ex-boyfriend, is following your movement with melancholic eyes. The tentacle creature is holding him affectionately, its tendrils of darkness wrapped around his small shoulders. The same appendages that lewdly traced your body.

You have been cucked.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I…We never meant to hurt you. It’s just…we love each other.” He sheepishly lifts his hand, revealing a ring glowing with ancient, cursed energy of cosmic, long-forgotten springs. “We’re thinking of a tropical honeymoon.”

Your underbaked cinnamon orbs glisten with fresh tears, as thin streams caress your cheeks. No matter. You’ll find a new apartment. You’ll start again. You finish tying the bread satchel around the stick, and throw it over your shoulder.

“I wish you happiness”, you sigh, exiting the house.

[corroded-hellfire]

Hi! I had this idea for the As you wish - series. What if reader finds her first grey hair or maybe spot the first lines on her face and panics because she thinks "Eddie was drawn to me because I was so young, what if he won't be drawn to me anymore?!"

Ah, the signs of aging. As someone who has had a line across her forehead for years now, I felt this lol. Despite what society tries to tell us though, aging is good! Never forget that.

Words: 2.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Waking up before your alarm clock used to be considered a sin to you. It’s not like you were always out partying all night in college when you were younger, it’s just the principle of the thing. How dare your body naturally wake you up just as the sun is making its first appearance over the horizon? The words “early morning” left a sour taste in your mouth, and you’d do whatever you could to get a few extra hours of sleep.

If growing up and becoming a productive member of society didn’t get your body accustomed to waking up earlier than in your teenage years, being a mom of three certainly did. 

The boys are both teenagers themselves now and won’t get up for school willingly, which means you’ve had to learn a few tricks over the years. But one of those tricks was seemingly fading as time ticked by as well. Eliza used to be up before the crack of dawn, her cries or laughter beating the rooster’s crow to the punch. Now that she’s pushing four years old, she often sleeps later than you or Eddie, which means she’s not readily available to bother her brothers into a wakened state. That still leaves Eddie though, and he considers it a joy to annoy his sons awake—payback for all the years they did it to him. 

But this morning you’re awake not only before your alarm, but before anyone else in the house as well. A few emerging beams of sunlight shine through the gaps in your blinds and warm the side of your face as you turn towards it. A content hum leaves your lips as you open your eyes, blinking away the bits of sleep still clinging to the corners. Your heavy head lolls to the other side and comes face to face with your sleeping husband. 

It’s impossible not to smile at his open jaw dotted with scruff, just a hint of drool pooling in the corner. Telling yourself to get up out of bed and not bury your face in his chest and cuddle back into the blankets feels like a Herculean task as you gaze at his handsome face. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up and stretch your arms up over your head. The bright side of being the first one up is that you can go through your morning routine in peace, you suppose. 

The plush carpet is warm on your toes as you slip from bed and pad over to the en suite bathroom. A fierce yawn erupts from your mouth as you turn on the faucet to wash your face. The back of your hands rubs against tired eyes as you wait for the water to heat to an acceptable temperature. The house is quiet and still around you, giving you a sense of calm that you’re sure won’t last once the kids are awake. 

A green washcloth hangs on a hook next to the mirror above your sink and you lather it with your apple blossom-scented soap before rubbing it over your face. The scratch of the cloth on your skin feels good, taking any remnants of the full night’s sleep off and preparing you for the new day. 

You let the wet swatch of fabric fall back down into the sink and grab the matching towel to pat your face dry. As you hang the towel back on the hook, you lean in towards the mirror above the sink and let your eyes roam over your features. Luckily, it seems like that small breakout you had last week has finally cleared up and your chin is blemish free. Your eyes trail farther up and once they get to your forehead your hands grip the side of the sink with enough force to crack the white porcelain in half.

There is a line across your forehead. 

Immediately, your hand goes up and tries to rub it away. Still there. Maybe it’s a smudge on the mirror. All your hand does is smear fingerprints across the glass surface, but the line on your face is still there. 

Gently, you rub the tips of your fingers over the crease in your skin. When you can feel the indent where it used to be firm, an involuntary whimper falls from your lips. Your forefinger traces the line back and forth from the left side of your face to the right. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes and your arms drop down to your sides.

You have a wrinkle. 

The ugly word has the tears spilling over your bottom lids and you squeeze your eyes shut. This is ridiculous, you try to tell yourself. It’s perfectly normal. Aging is a good thing. You force your eyes open and glare at the unwelcome addition to your face. But why does aging mean you’ll start to feel insecure about how your body changes? Wasn’t puberty enough of that bullshit?

A sharp inhale of breath and your hands fly to cover your mouth as a thought occurs to you. What is Eddie going to think? He was drawn to you because of your youth, so what now? Is he going to find this wrinkle gross? Will he find you unappealing now? Are younger, hotter girls going to turn his head?

The thoughts come on too quickly and you're flooded by a wave of panic and grief. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you make a conscious effort not to scrunch your face up, lest you get more wrinkles. 

A small sob wracks your body, and you tighten your hands over your mouth. Part of you knows this is an overreaction, that Eddie won’t care, but the irrational side of you has its claws too deep in you now to let go. 

“Babe?”

Eddie’s groggy voice calls out and his footsteps approach the bathroom door. As if it will keep him from seeing you, you press your back against the bathroom wall and keep your hands firmly clutched over your mouth.

A mop of frizzy bedhead pops in the doorway and Eddie looks in the other direction before swinging his gaze around and spotting you. Instantly, he’s more alert as he takes in your body language. He comes to stand in front of you and places his hands gently on your upper arms.

“Princess, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks. 

Not trusting your voice, you shake your head, hands still covering your mouth.

“What?” Eddie asks. “You’re not okay?” Gently, he pries your fingers from your lips and holds them securely in his own hands. “Hey, come on. Please talk to me.”

Try as you might to find the right words to say, nothing comes to mind. Too much is rattling around your head and the only thing that comes out of your mouth are whines as your sobs pick up. Instinctively, you step in towards Eddie and bury your face in his neck. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to his warm, solid frame. 

“Hey…” Eddie coos as he rubs a large hand up and down your back. It’s a tone you’ve heard him use with Eliza a hundred times before when he’s trying to get her to take a breath and use her words. “Sweetheart, talk to me. Please?”

It takes a lot of your strength to pull back and wipe your eyes and nose off on your arm. The concern in Eddie’s eyes damn near sends you into another fit, but you manage to keep it together. 

“I-I…” I have a wrinkle is what you plan to say. “I’m s-scared.”

Your husband’s eyebrows pinch together as he studies your face. He’ll probably spot the problem on your face on his own if he keeps looking at you like this. 

“Scared? Baby, what are you scared of?”

At his question, a new round of tears does come. You try to ward them off though, shaking your head and wiping your eyes. I’m scared you’re not going to be attracted to me anymore. I’m scared you’re going to think I’m old. I’m scared I’m freaking out and don’t know how to stop it.

None of those words form on your tongue though, so with a shaky hand you reach up and point to the crease above your eyebrows. Eddie’s gaze drifts to where you’re pointing but this only seems to confuse him more.

“What is it? What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asks. When you jab repeatedly at your forehead with your finger, Eddie gently grabs your wrist and lowers your arm back down. “Angel, you’ve gotta talk to me.”

“A-A wrinkle,” you manage to squeak out just above a whisper. 

Eddie frowns and looks at your forehead again. He squints his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.

“I see a faint line. Why does that scare you?”

“Because it means I-I’m old.”

Laughter is the last thing you expect to hear from your husband. But when you look up at him there’s an amused look on his face as he shakes his head. 

“Babe, you’re twenty-nine. If you’re old, then I’m the damn crypt keeper.”

“M’not like when you met me,” you mumble, looking down in embarrassment. 

“No, you’re not,” Eddie says plainly. “And neither am I.” When you look up at him in confusion, Eddie sighs and gently tugs you closer to him. He takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and pulls you into his lap. “Pretty girl, we’ve known each other for about a decade now. Neither of us are the same. I’ve got gray in my beard now and these crow’s feet around my eyes.”

“They’re sexy,” you’re quick to inform him.

“What makes you think I don’t think your changes are sexy?” your husband asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“This isn’t sexy,” you say with a sigh as you rub your hand across your forehead. 

“Is to me,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’ve got more tattoos now. You’ve given birth. Jesus hun, I’m in a different decade than I was back then. We’re not a couple in their twenties and thirties anymore—it’s twenties and forties.”

His fingers gently dig into your sides, making you squeak in laughter and squirm around in his lap. 

“Until I turn thirty in a few months,” you say. Words burn at the back of your throat, and you know you shouldn’t say them. But they need to come out and make themselves known. “You’ll still want me, right? When I’m thirty? With these lines starting?”

Eddie stares at you for a moment, his doe eyes scanning your face. You see the moment something clicks in his mind.

“Wait, don’t tell me that’s what you’re scared of?”

When you still avoid looking him in the eye and remain silent, Eddie lets out a long sigh. 

“There is no line or wrinkle that could make you anything less than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Not a damn thing in this world could make me not want to be with you. I love you. Always have, always will. Wrinkles or not. Acne or not. Scars, gray hair, injuries, sickness, it doesn’t matter. You’re my girl and that’s all there is to it.”

Emotion swells within your chest and it’s difficult to keep it contained. Hoping to convey what your voice can’t, you lean forward and rest your forehead against Eddie’s. 

“Actually,” Eddie adds softly, “I think wrinkles and gray hair are pretty great things. Because it means we’re growing old with each other. No one else I’d want by my side, to go through this with.”

“I’m so lucky to be your girl,” you manage in a hoarse whisper, trying to quell the tears that build up—now for a different reason. 

A soft chuckle has Eddie’s breath ghosting across your lips.

“It’s absolutely me who is the lucky one, princess. I love you so goddamn much.” 

“I love you too—”

“Mama!”

Little hands beat on the wood of the closed bathroom door. You and your husband share a whispered laugh as you drop your head down to his shoulder. 

“What’s up, sweet pea?” Eddie calls back.

The banging stops and there’s a beat of silence before your daughter replies.

“I called for Mama.”

A snort of laughter leaps out of you at Eliza’s tone. Eddie shakes his head in amusement and lets out an overdramatic sigh.

“See?” He speaks softly to you. “None of us can live without you.” The banging starts up again, a little faster this time. Eddie winces and squeezes one eye shut. “Even for a second, apparently.”

[weekendlusting]

A TALE OF FAME

pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

chapter ꪆৎ 1

summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

prev

────୨ৎ────

Ahaana Patel was an enigma wrapped in stardom. She’d emerged onto the Bollywood scene with a debut that was nothing short of explosive, pro shaking up the industry and catapulting herself into the hearts of millions. She featured in a movie of one of the most celebrated Indian directors, Karan Johar, alongside her costars Varun Dhawan and Sidharth Malhotra, and hasn't looked back since. It was a journey no one, least of all her academically fixated parents in Ahmedabad, could have foreseen. From their meticulously structured plans of engineering degrees and Ivy League aspirations to the glitzy chaos of movie premieres and magazine covers, her story was the epitome of unpredictability.

Now, twelve years later, Ahaana strode confidently through the paddock of the Chinese Formula One Grand Prix. Her steps were light, but her presence was impossible to ignore. The roar of engines, the sharp tang of gasoline, and the relentless buzz of the crowd enveloped her in a world she had come to know well over the years.

Dressed in attire that matched the casual coolness of the paddock air, a fitted white top and denim skirt. Her hair, perfectly styled despite the chaos of travel, swayed gently as she moved, her signature smile lighting up the faces of everyone she passed.

The first race of the 2024 season was underway, and the paddock was a symphony of excitement. Engineers tinkered with machines that cost more than most people earned in a lifetime, journalists scrambled for the perfect soundbite, and VIP guests mingled in their designer ensembles, trying to look like they belonged. Ahaana, however, didn’t need to try—she was a natural here.

“Ahi!”

The familiar Dutch accent cut through the cacophony, and Ahaana turned, her eyes narrowing playfully as Max Verstappen approached. Helmet in hand, the reigning world champion exuded confidence. His movements were deliberate, his gaze sharp, but the moment he saw Ahaana, his expression softened ever so slightly.

“Max,” she greeted, her voice laced with mock seriousness. “Are you ready to win, or should I start drafting my consolation speech now?”

Max rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Your faith in me is touching. Truly inspiring. Maybe you should stick to Bollywood instead of doubting world champions.”

“And miss this circus?” Ahaana gestured grandly at the bustling paddock around them. “Not a chance.”

Their bond was one of playful banter and unspoken trust, forged in the early days of her association with Red Bull. At first, their interactions had been fraught with the awkwardness of two young professionals forced into photoshoots and promotional events. But as time passed, they found common ground in their shared struggles—both carried the weight of their fathers’ expectations and both were determined to carve their own paths. What began as reluctant camaraderie soon blossomed into a sibling-like relationship. Max truly saw Ahaana as a little sister, and always would.

“Where’s Kelly?” Ahaana asked, scanning the crowd for Max’s girlfriend.

“She’s around,” Max replied, shrugging. “Probably hunting you down.”

As if on cue, Kelly Piquet appeared, her presence as radiant as ever. Spotting Ahaana, she broke into a wide grin and pulled her into a warm hug. “Ahaana! I didn’t know you were coming today. Otherwise, I’d have brought P—she misses you.”

Ahaana beamed. “I miss her too. We’re calling her as soon as these boys start driving their toy cars.”

“Toy cars?” Max echoed, feigning offense.

Before Ahaana could retort, another familiar voice joined the fray.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Red Bull’s golden girl.”

Ahaana turned to see Lando Norris, the ever-charming McLaren driver, strolling toward them. His grin was as cheeky as ever, his orange, oh sorry papaya, jacket standing out starkly against the sea of Red Bull merch.

“Lando,” Ahaana greeted with mock disdain. “Lost your way from all the oranges. Here let me show you, its that garage with a mark that looks like a disfigured comma.”

“It’s papaya and you know it. You’re obsessed with me , aren’t you?” Lando shot back, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Admit it—you came all the way here just to see me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ahaana replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Couldn’t resist the charm of McLaren’s poster boy.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t deal with both of you.”

The banter continued until race preparations called for Max and Lando’s attention. Kelly and Ahaana waved them off, heading toward the lounge.

The race was a spectacle, with Max clinching victory and Lando following closely behind in P2. The podium celebrations were a blur of champagne showers and roaring applause, but the real festivities began that evening.

The group—Max, Kelly, Lando, Carlos Sainz, Rebecca, Carlos’s girlfriend, and Ahaana—found themselves in a luxurious nightclub, the VIP section buzzing with energy. Neon lights danced across the room, the bass of the music reverberating through their bodies.

“Did you hear?” Rebecca leaned closer to Kelly and Ahaana, her voice conspiratorial. “Apparently, Alex cheated on Charles.”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking!”

Ahaana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How do you know?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Apparently, Charles tried to break up with her, but she keeps avoiding the conversation.”

“Classic denial,” Ahaana remarked, sipping her drink.

Kelly shook her head. “Why doesn’t he just cut her off?”

“He wants a clean break,” Rebecca explained. “But Alex is… persistent.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on. Lando, ever the photographer, took candid shots of the group, earning playful protests from his friends.

By 3 A.M., the nightclub was still alive with energy, but Ahaana needed a breather. She stepped out onto a balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat inside. The city lights stretched out before her, their glow reflected in the glass of the towering buildings.

She wasn’t alone for long.

“Hey, Ferrari,” she said, spotting Charles Leclerc leaning against the railing, a glass of whiskey in hand.

Charles glanced at her, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” Ahaana replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “But you looked like you could use some company.”

Charles chuckled softly, though the melancholy in his eyes remained. “Maybe I do.”

Ahaana joined him at the railing, their gazes fixed on the cityscape. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them comfortable.

“Rough night?” Ahaana asked eventually.

Charles hesitated before nodding. “Something like that.”

Ahaana studied him, her expression thoughtful. “You know, brooding doesn’t suit you. You should try smiling—it might just solve all your problems.”

Charles couldn’t help but smile, albeit faintly. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Ahaana replied, her tone light. “But if you’re not ready to smile yet, I’ll settle for a drink.”

Charles handed her his glass without a word. She accepted it, taking a small sip before handing it back.

“Not bad,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Charles looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time. The neon lights from the club painted her features in hues of pink and blue, her hair catching the faint breeze. There was something about her—an effortless charm, a warmth that drew people in.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“Ahaana,” she replied, extending a hand.

Charles took it, his grip firm but gentle. “Charles.”

“I know,” Ahaana said with a grin. “You ready to party now, Red?”

Charles chuckled, a genuine laugh this time, and downed the rest of his drink. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, the night took on a new energy, two strangers finding unexpected companionship amidst the chaos of flashing lights and thundering music.

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ᝰ.ᐟ first part! i know this isn't much, but i plan on writing more and this is just the start. i hope you aren't freaked out by the rather rustic writing and keep reading the chapters to come!

next

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tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf @ho3smadd

comment to be added to taglist

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© weekendlusting

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[snazzynacho]

In Common

Quinn Mossbacher x female oc

Chapter 1/?

Summary: Aleena notices a boy around her age stuck on a level in a game she's played. She offers her help, and a lovely friendship turned romance blossoms between them.

Fandom: The White Lotus (Season 1)

Tags: rated Y/A fanfic basically, romance, friendship, slowburn (I’ll try), clean romance, awkward flirting, Quinn is autistic.

Read on ao3

Aleena and her grandad are staying at the White Lotus hotel.

For the past half an hour she’s been swimming in the pool while he’s probably off talking his head off with someone.

She’s thankful to get some piece and quiet. She loves her grandad but he’s always talking even when she has headphones on.

Twisting her body around to pick up her cup of apple juice she left on the poolside, she finishes her drink. As she does, her ears twitch at the sound of a familiar melody. She turns and her gaze falls on the boy her age, swwading in the water, holding up his phone in his right hand and a Nintwndo Switch in the other. The Switch plays an iconic Stardew Valley song which Aleena instantly recognises as the sound played in the mines.

He seems to be stuck on a level in the mines and she decides to offer help.

He veers around in the water at the sound of her voice giving him advice. His blue eyes look startled and Aleena feels a guilty churn in her stomach for scaring him.

He quickly turns back to his game and she drifts to the side of the pool to leave, deciding she’s embarrassed herself enough for today. Before she leaves, she hears a voice call out.

“Thanks, I’ve been struggling with this for a while…I kept dying and then losing all my shit in the mines! How did you beat it?” He looks at you as he puts his Switch down on the poolside which Alewna cringes at. Isn't he scared of getting it wet?!

“Uhh, by spending months screaming and trying not to throw the Switch across the room,” she chuckles, holding onto the onto the pool edge “but I eventually got there,”

He chuckles a little at her answer and glimpses at his Switch, remembering himself trying desperately all those times to finish the level for weeks. He smiles at her determination and then back at her.

“Well, you must be really good, because this level has been a nightmare. Those Crave Flies are horrible!”

“Right?! The noise they make makes my stomach churn…” she grimaces, swaying in the water closer to him.

He glances back at his Switch before turning to look at her with an intrigued look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,”

He looks at her for a moment but is slightly hesitant to ask for the question. Eventually he decides to ask anyway, not being sure how she is going to take it.

“How old are you?”

“That is what you’re asking?” Aleena can't help but snort a laugh. “You know you shouldn't ask a lady that-” she feigns offence but the look on his face tells her he doesn't know she is joking. “I'm kidding. I’m Seventeen. Why?”

He then looks down at the shimmering pool water, watching the ripples of sunlight dance on it, thinking for a few moments before he continues. “No reason…just wondering why someone like you would approach someone like me.“

“What do you mean?”

He thinks about it for a moment, before speaking. “It was just a little surprising. I wasn’t really expecting a complete stranger to help me at first. No one my age really wants anything to do with me,” he looks over at his Switch, cursing to himself for being so open and honest with a stranger.

She shrugs. “To be fair, it was bugging me how many times you were messing up,”

He laughs and it warms her heart for some reason. His eyes drift to her brown ones and back to the Nintendo Switch again. He then notices that he completely forgot to ask her name. “Wait-“ he says, looking back at her. “What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

He lets out a small laugh, at her counteract. “It’s Quinn. Yours?”

“Aleena,” she beams.

Quinn smiles, determining that her name is pretty and fitting. He looks back at his Switch again, still a little hesitant about asking a question that has been lingering on his mind for a while. “Can I ask you something else?”

“You know, you don’t have to ask that every time?”

Quinn laughs a little sheepishly at her statement, learning that he does have a habit of asking permission to ask a question. “I guess I do say that a lot, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Aleena giggles. “What were you gonna ask?”

Quinn lets out another small laugh, more of a nervous one this time, as he rubs the back of his neck, wondering how exactly to ask this question.

“Uh- well, I was wondering if…if you maybe wanted to go hang out together while we’re staying here…like, as friends?”

“Sure! It’s nice to finally find a gamer out in the wild,” she smiles. “What’s your Switch username by the way?” She asks as she leaves the pool to retrieve her switch from her bag, drying off first.

He seems to follow her lead, as he gets out the pool too, sitting on the empty lounge chair next to hers.

Quinn looks at Aleena with excitement at her willingness to hang out. He grabs his Switch to share his username with you. “It’s uh- Moss19. What’s yours?”

“Turtleena. T-U-R-T-L-E-E-N-A,”

He laughs at your username for a moment, amused by it, before looking back up at you with a smile. “Nice username. I’m gonna add you as a friend. I’m guessing you like Turtles?”Quinn clicks on the button to add her as a friend. His Switch makes an affirming sound when it obliges. He grins and looks back at Aleena. “There. We’re friends now.”

“Yay, thanks, I’m adding you too. And yeah, you could say that,” she chuckles, fiddling with the stitched corner of her purple towel. “Do you like Moss, then?” Aleena jokes but before either of them can say another word, her grandad calls for her from across the pool.

Quinn looks around when hearing her grandad hollering for her at the other end of the pool. He looks back at her and gives a sympathetic look as well as a shrug. “Guess you have to go?”

“Yeah, sorry.” she shoves her switch back into her bag, grabbing her pink towel to wrap herself with. “Well, I’ll see you around. Can you even message people on a switch? Or can you only text on a phone? Oh, here’s my number anyway,” she rambles on and uses a piece of her towel to wipe the chlorine water off his arm, and scribbles her number on his arm using a glittery pen she found in the bottom of her bag.

Quinn watches as she scribbles her number onto his arm, like etching a tattoo, completely endeared by her rambling. He admires her work of tattoo artistry on his arm, the sparkly red ink contrasts against his pale skin with every stroke.

“No worries, I’ll message you. And…yeah, you can message through the Switch. Can’t call or anything though,” he’s surprised he can keep his cool, at her touch.

“Oh right. Of course.” she stands in front of him kind of awkwardly, not wanting to leave. “Well, bye Quinn” she smiles once more, waves, and walks away.

Quinn smiles at Aleena, giving a small wave back, a bit surprised at her slight hesitation to leave, before watching her walk off to her grandad.

Sitting back in the chair where he was previously sitting, Quinn stares up at the blue sky with a small smile plastered on his face.

The smile quickly fades as he realises he never told her his age, and he might seem weird in not doing so after asking her how old she is. He sits back up and yells, “I’m sixteen by the way!”

Aleena whips her head around at the sound of Quinn’s voice from a few metres away, not quite registering why he has said that, at first.

“Oh, okay!” she shouts back, and laugh to yourself. These two are one awkward pair, and Aleena loves it.

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YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N: I headcanon that Quinn plays Minecraft, Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, and Mario Kart on his switch. (these are the only games I play either lol.) And I headcanon that he obviously has an Xbox at home.

[platrom]

Infinity.

CHAPTER 1.

JJK x READER

SUMMARY: In every universe, Ryomen Sukuna will find you, whether it is by chance or not. But only time can tell if you awake to discover your doomed fate.

WARNINGS: sad tones, mentions of hard labor, the concubines are rude and abusive, mentions of mold, aguri is very playful, sukuna has a bride, reader gets beat up and belittled, reader is too aware but not too knowledgeable on their world, some heavy hints to Sukuna’s ultimate control over his people

MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

TAGLIST (slashed means could not be tagged): @xhoneymoonx134 @ofcqdesi

—taglist is open! if you would like to be added, please comment. :)

i. endless

The work gets easier the longer you do it. The constant bending of your knees, elbows, and back becomes almost natural the longer you spend dragging rotten mattresses, tossing dirty sheets, and folding those dreadful covers.

You’ve also learned that harsh, morbid environments like the living quarters of your fellow maids bring disgusting conditions to the rooms.

A certain type of fungi has begun to creep into the corners of the rooms and under the beds. You’ve found the darkness serves as an outstanding breeding ground for this fuzzy, green bacteria with speckles of white that act as pores.

The sight makes you sick to your stomach.

But a part of you wonders if the living quarters above for the men who kill the spirits and the king’s favored subordinates are bright with life. Maybe life grows there— maybe bonsais and cherry blossoms litter the windowstills and butterflies flutter inside and outside their rooms. Maybe creatures like rabbits and foxes settle inside when the sun is too warm, and the subordinates of Lord Sukuna get to relish in their presence.

“(Name)!” You turn your head, grasping the ends of the gray sheets and bunching them as you rise.

A beaming Aguri pops her head into the frame of the doorway. The end of her headband is falling from her hair, letting strands loose to rest against her cheeks. The ratty accessory was meant to be a pure, pristine white, but with years of cleaning soot and dust, it has become a murky grey, nearly a dirty black.

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning the kitchen? The cooks are out on their break,” you rub your cheek with the collar of your uniform. “Uraume won’t be pleased if she sees you here.”

“Uraume is never pleased no matter what I do,” she moves towards you, lunging at you when you begin to move up to meet her. Together, you both tumble into the pile of dirty bedsheets and pillows covers that decorate the floor. She giggles as you groan in pain. “As long as my duties get done on time, there shouldn’t be an issue.”

The back of your head throbs against the itchy material of threaded cloth. “If you say so, Aguri.”

She grins, smushing her head into the crook of neck. She inhales deeply, before releasing a slow breath.

“Are you smelling me?” you grab her shoulder, tugging at her sleeve in an attempt to remove her from your side. “What are you, a dog?”

Aguri makes no movement, but merely holds on tighter. When she speaks, her voice is quieter. “What if I was a hound? Like one of Lord Sukuna’s.”

“Why would you ever want that?” you frown. The absurd statement is not anything new from Aguri, but it is the tone she holds that sets you aback.

She doesn’t get quiet or melancholic often. Even when she spoke about the grimmer things in her life or her past, she didn’t dim as much as now.

“Maybe, I would be treated better,” she sighs. “You know, they always need those dogs. The blood-hunting ones that they send out to attack traitors or find enemies. And they feed them well— the chefs give them some of the nicest meat I’ve seen… but that stake isn’t very high.”

You understand. Meat is a rarity to the poor, but a normalcy to the rich. The wealthy gorge on the finest slices of beef, chicken, pork, and any fatty animal they can find.

The poor cannot eat anything but crumbs. Bread, if they can make it. Cheese if they can get a goat or trade for it. And for most, scraps of berries or bits of rotten vegetables tossed out serve as their only food source.

There are people outside who run into estate’s dumping grounds daily. You’ve watched as they fished out slivers of carrot peels or orange centers and devoured as much as they could.

They would be killed if they were caught. They would be humiliated by all the kingdom and even the town, despite how poor they are as well.

You’ve see the bodies, sometimes. In the kitchen with the staff, with Uraume holding the knife, cutting the limbs. The chefs look green with disgust at the sight of a body being torn, boiled, and seasoned. It’s a blessing that Lord Sukuna has designated Uraume to be his main chef when it comes to humans.

You’re not sure anyone truly human could handle it. But you know for a fact, Uraume is not. And neither is Lord Sukuna.

But you’re not sure what they are, either.

“It must be nice to be cared for,” you murmur, your hands threading into Aguri’s hair. “To be well fed, groomed, and treated like royalty. Their bedding must be nicer as ours. Made out of pure cotton and sewn with the finest of threads. Pure white, like the sheeps and bunnies in our dreams.”

Your fingers tug against tangles, curves, and bumps. It’s a comforting motion for you, and her. To feel the gentleness of another person, instead of the harsh treatment you both are constantly subjected to.

The hard labor, yelling, and constant threat of death. It’s overwhelming and drowning. It’s dispiriting and crushing. Most here die at their 20s. The average life expectancy is one’s early 40s.

It’s the stress that kills them the fastest. And the slaughtering of them in the masses, as well.

Aguri whines, kneeing you in the side. “Why did you stop? I was getting comfortable!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, before a pained smile grows on your face.

You wish she would never have to worry about her life. You wish you could protect Aguri with your life, and that would be enough.

“How about we sneak into the kitchen? I heard the head baker made some new pastries with a special strawberry cream.”

Aguri perks, staring at you with wide eyes. “Can we?”

You wink. “As long as we don’t get caught.”

In an instant, she tugs at your arm and pulls you up, sprinting out of the room.

Her laughter is all you need to match her pace.

I hope you stay like this forever, Aguri.

ii. bastion

Lord Sukuna marries Akazome Emon on the night of your birthday.

You have the pleasure of preparing for the ceremony. The tables, the food, and all the decorations are overseen by Uraume, while the maids of the estate fulfill the duty of beautifying the already breathtaking garden where the celebration will be held.

The wedding has no more than fifty guests. It’s small, for a king as powerful as him— but it’s fitting and understandable.

Lord Sukuna has enemies who drool at the chance to even brush shoulders with him. To be able to infiltrate his palace is a feat that no man or woman has ever achieved. All concubines are checked thoroughly and every servant goes through a lengthy process before they are admitted to work for the king.

But the news of his bride will spread quickly. The parchments will fly and the whispers of mothers will flood the ears of the neighboring kingdoms.

His Queen will become an immediate target as a way to crumble his spirit and overthrow his authority. Riots will begin in the streets, and wars will rebirth.

In a matter of hours, the world will be in chaos once Lord Sukuna marries his bride.

Though, a small voice in the back of your head believes that the king thrives in danger and destruction. It is the motto of the Sukuna estate.

You purse your lips, staring at the sheer sheets that line the wooden poles now cemented into the corners of the garden. Tree peonies line the ends of the box-like structure, while chrysanthemums are sparsely dispersed around the seats.

The gardeners are exceptional at their job, you crouch to inspect the flowers. Your eyes trace over the delicate ridges of the baby pink in the peonies, and the fluffs of white in their centers. They are beautiful, bright, and voluminous; fit for royalty.

The maids have gossiped about the bride’s bouquet after one of the florists had dropped the sketch of the design on the garden’s ground.

It appears that her bouquet will be filled with nippon daisies at the center and lavender rimming the daisies. It was an odd choice for a woman as exquisite as Akazome Emon to have such common flowers be the choice for her bouquet— especially for them to be the kinds of flowers the poorest of the kingdom eat.

You wonder if her choice of flowers mean something greater than just to look nice, but you’ll never know. The privilege of accessing books was never one you had.

It wasn’t like you could even read or write to begin with.

“Work faster, Uraume will be out soon! The ceremony must look spotless for our king,” the head maid is running around like a headless chicken, straightening creases and perfectly spacing the seats from each other. Maids back out of her way as she sways around, screaming orders at anyone who looks her way. The flock of you are sent scattering as guards begin to enter the grounds.

For such a wonderful day, the workers of the estate are tense and on edge.

“Did you hear that Lady Emon appointed Lord Sukuna’s other suitors as his concubines?” Two ladies veiled in crème colored robes brush past you as you adjust the deserts on the table. The material looks smooth and soft— like velvet. It’s a type of cloth you’ve heard Uraume describe to her seamstress about her robes. “For a future Queen, she is keen on throwing any woman she possibly can at the man who will bring her unlimited power.”

Along their necks lies an engraving of blood-red roses lined with heavy, black ink. When the ends of their robes rise, around their ankles rests a gold chain intertwined with bits of lavender.

They must be concubines.

The king was known to lavish his mistresses in the finest of jewels and clothes from raids against neighboring estates.

“What are you looking at?” a nauseatingly saccharine voice snaps. A blur of black and white drops into your view and you stumble backwards. “You stupid whore, who are you to look at me?”

Your mouth runs dry and your tongue becomes heavy. Instantly your head falls to the ground with your hands under your forehead and your eyes squeeze shut. “I’m sorry, my lady. Forgive me, please.”

She scoffs, before yanking at the shoulder of your uniform to bring your face up to hers. Strands of fine, black hair lay across the front of her face, the ends brushing against the white of her makeup. The pigment on her lips is a bright, vibrant red that contrasts the paleness of her face and the darkness of her hair.

She’s breathtakingly deadly.

She must be one of Sukuna’s favorites. Her aura is so fierce, but her features are somehow delicate and sharp.

Her nails dig into your arm and the corners of her lips slide down her face. The iris of her eyes are a deep brown, nearly blackened by the anger that spreads through her body. Her eyebrows are tightly knit, the perfect arch in her brows now flattened into a hard slope.

“You dirty, proletariat brat. You must wish this was the life you lived, huh? You must wish you were worthy of Lord Sukuna the way we are,” she spits as the the tips of her nails dig deeper into your skin. You have no doubt the moment she releases your arm, blood will gush from the indentations of her nails on your skin.

The other concubine steps forward. She’s just as stunning as the other, but her features differ vastly. Instead of a foxy look of slender features and slim eyes, her jaw is soft, her lips are round, and her eyes are wide like a doe’s.

“It’s astonishing that Uraume allowed the scum of the estate to even step outside of the dungeons today,” she frowns, bending down to invade your space. She scans your features, trailing over the dust that clings to the creases of your clothes and the swatch of white paint across the back of your hand.

You’re surprised as well that Uraume allowed you to participate in preparing the ceremony. Despite your promotion, you still worked in the lower parts of the castle, commonly referred to as “the dungeon.” Rats, cockroaches, and snakes are common sights in the halls, and fuzzy spores are found on every end of each room. The maids of your levels speculate that the ground level of the estate is littered with ceramic vases, gold plated portraits, crystalline walls, and the smells of roses and joy.

It’s been awhile since you’ve smelled anything but must and damp walls, hasn’t it?

You bow your head, shutting your eyes. This battle cannot be won— the concubines will win. The aristocracy always succeed, even if they are wrong. It’s an endless cycle engraved in the history of your people. Prosperity and wealth do not come to those born into poverty— it runs in the veins of those fortunate enough to have lived at a time where a man was willing to adopt a boy, or for those who have leeched themselves to the top.

The voice in the back of your head brings you to believe that these two are the latter of the group.

“Now, you want to show some respect?” the concubine tightens her grip around your arm before tossing you back to the ground. A glob of spit lands on your cheek as the other scoffs, kicking your chest. You curl into yourself, clutching your head noiselessly.

The faster this goes, the sooner I can go to finish my duties and head to bed.

You pray someone will step in and separate the two from you; you want nothing to do with these concubines. Their sight of their perfectly primped hair and glassy skin was only supposed to be a glance for your own entertainment, to relish in the joy of the world above you. It was meant to be a taste of a world you would never exist in— a distraction from the harshness of reality that existed inside the walls of the estate.

The sight of the swaying cherry blossoms, the freshness of the grass beneath your feet, and the gentle breeze in your hair were meant to be figments of your imagination that you could play in your head until your final days in the manor. The tulle that surrounded the wooden posts were meant to design the gown in your dreams, in a life where you would find a loving husband and spend the rest of your life with a lover who would destroy the world to merely bring it to your feet.

Now, you recognize that you stepped out of place. You thought too hard and believed too much in an unattainable fantasy. In no life were you destined to be happy.

In no universe did you belong with plates of fluffy, sugary cakes and tender meats and soft cheeses. Doughy breads coated with flour were never meant to be placed on your table for dinner.

Instead, you were meant to eat a bowl of leftover bone broth and a slice of stale brown bread. You would never live to pluck a berry off a bush, or lay in a bed of flowers in the cool evenings.

Those were impossible tales for girls like you. They were realities for women like them.

Please, make this punishment quick and easy. Let me go to my room and speak with Aguri until my mouth runs dry and my eyes close shut. Let me sleep ‘till my next day of cleaning and collect the ribbons and threads of color that Aguri loves.

Let me make it to my room tonight, please. That is all I ask for today and forever.

The last thing you hear before a blow is made to your head is a terrified scream, the crashing of glasses, and the sound of rushing footsteps.

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