#he can play with his voice so much as it is

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: discussion of past abuse, Simon’s trauma Request: take your baby to work day

You're wide eyed at the front door.

"You sure you guys will be alright?" Your voice is clear, but your hand trembles on the door handle, bottom lip tugged across your teeth.

"We'll be okay sweetheart. But if you're uncomfortable, or it's too much, you should take him-"

"No, no. I'm fine. You're not supposed to bring the baby to OB appointments anyway. It's frowned upon." You roll your eyes, tipping up to kiss Ry on the cheek. "Just... don't let anyone breathe on him, or kiss him, okay? His immune system is still fragile compared to ours. I packed you like, three bottles so hopefully he'll take them if he gets hungry. Text me if-"

"Mama." He holds Orion in one arm, and grabs your hand with the other. You're frightened, and stressed, and he's driven to comfort you, the need to soothe you throbbing across his skull. "I've got this. We'll be just fine. Text me when you're done. Get yourself a tea or something afterwards, alright? Everything is going to be okay." You nod.

"Right, of course. You're... you're right. And you're going to a military base, I doubt there's a safer place around."

"C'mere." He tugs you into his side, and you wrap your arms around his stomach, nestling in opposite Orion. "I need you to do something f'me."

"What?"

"I need you to swear to me you'll tell your doctor about the dizzy spells." There's been a reminder card about your twelve week postpartum appointment on the fridge for two weeks now, and after you finally confessed you have been getting dizzy since Orion was born, and one time had even fallen, he decided to skip several steps by making the appointment for you. You were... not pleased, but he made it very clear, he's not playing a game with your health. He's planning his battles strategically now, putting pieces in play slowly, working towards his larger goal, but this was something he refused to compromise on.

"Okay." You whisper, burying your face in his chest. "I will." He lands a kiss to the top of your head.

"We'll see you soon. It'll be over before you know it, and maybe we can get a takeaway for dinner?" Your lips crack into a toothy smile.

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright, lad. Let's go see daddy's team." Orion stares at him, brown eyes curious, and watchful. He’s still not used to it, this feeling. This life, with you and his baby. Everyday, he has to stop to ground himself, anchor himself. Break from the cycle of a downward spiral, obsessive thoughts playing with his mind, counting down the million and one ways he could lose you, or fail you, or both. He’s careful, he’s diligent, he’s in control. He’d never make a mistake like he did before, the error of judgement that cost him his mother, his brother and his family-

But the incessant fear never ceases.

Fortunately, his anchor now is you. You, when you let him carry you to bed, when you watch him rock Orion to sleep as you stand in the doorway, you who curls up next to him on the couch now, fingers curled into his shirt like you’re afraid he might disappear. Your touch heals. Your words comfort. He can't fathom a future without you, or Ry, now.

If he thinks back on it, he wonders if he knew all along. If all the things he felt the night he met really meant forever, just like he had wished. A fantasy turned reality-

to have and to hold.

His stomach turns, wondering if his father ever felt this, if he ever loved, or if he was always just a monster, the ouroboros of victim turned abuser, the man who terrorized his mother, his brother and himself, long past the time Simon finally tore him to pieces, cracked his ribs, beat him into the ground.

Tommy broke the cycle, and from the moment he laid eyes on his son he knew.... he would too.

Price's secretary looks like she's seen an actual ghost. "Hey, Lindsey. Is he in?" She's staring, flicking back and forth to Orion and then up to his face, mouth slightly agape.

"Y-yeah he's..." she points over her shoulder at his closed door. "Lieutenant, did you... is that... is that your baby?" He nods, mouth curving into a proud smile, stepping close enough so she can get a good look at him. She almost jerks back, clearly not used to being so close to him. He's been here and there, off and on base all week catching up on a backlog of reports, but hasn't said a word to anyone, and he keeps everyone on base at arm's length except the 141.

"It is." Her shocked expression melts, hesitantly reaching her pointer finger towards Ry, allowing him to wrap it up in his chubby little fist. "This is Orion." She smiles at him, and then the baby, kindly.

"He's beautiful." She excuses herself when the phone rings, and he settles the tension burning between his shoulder blades. He didn't mentally prepare for this moment, didn't believe he had to. The expectation of Price's acceptance was assumed but now, his trepidation is a surprise.

He told his captain he needed to take leave for something really important, but never said for what. All he told him is that he'd loop him in soon, and that he was sorry he wouldn't be available for the next op. If John was curious, he didn't let him know, didn't push him for more info, didn't pester him. He just sent the forms to Simon's email to be filled out with a postscript:

Looking forward to hearing what this is all about.

And when Simon crosses the threshold of his office, baby in one arm, backpack stuffed with nappies and bottles in the other-

John Price laughs.

It's not the huff of a chuckle that Kate usually gets out of him, or the rolling guffaw that he gives the guys sometimes when he's particularly amused.

No, this is different. It starts in his belly and then rolls upwards, all the way until his shoulders are shaking and he's wiping his eyes.

Simon scowls, and John holds both his hands up, palms out. Surrender. "This is a good enough reason as any to take a chunk of all that leave saved up." He stands, stepping around to get a closer look. "What's his name then?"

"Orion." John nods thoughtfully. The backs of his fingers brush along the baby's arm, gently, slowly, a flicker of longing, of sadness, arcing across his face before it dissipates.

"The giant hunter Zeus banished to the skies." Organized stacks of paper sit in neat little piles on top of John's desk, authorizations he'd know anywhere. They're moving out. "Where's his mum?"

"At a doctor's appointment." Orion gurgles, and Simon pats his back, bouncing him slowly from side to side.

"You with her?" The answer is immediate.

"Gonna marry her." John's eyes fill with mirth.

"But she doesn't know that yet, does she."

"No," Simon sighs, "but she will. 'ts why I needed the leave. Besides," he motions to the infant tucked in his arm, "this, helping take care of him, taking care of her, I need to get them moved to a secure location. She's in a second level flat right now, with street facing windows. It's makin' my skin itch." Price will get it, Simon knows he will understand. He has his own secret at home, tucked away in a house only Simon and Laswell know about, just in case.

"Take it slow, don't want to spook her. Although I can't imagine she's too skittish if she took you to bed." He smirks. "You've got the time you requested. Had to call in a substitute for this one, but we'll need you on the next."

"How long?"

"Five weeks, maybe more. I'll ring when we're back on base." Five weeks. The clock is ticking, a bomb waiting to detonate, a guillotine waiting to sever his time with his family, his duty dragging him away.

"Alright." He concedes. Cross that bridge when he comes to it.

If Price sees his reluctance, he doesn't comment on it. "Bird'll be here in six hours. Boys are in the rec room, if you want to see 'em." Simon nods, shifting the baby in his arms as he heads towards the door. "And Simon," he turns, locking eyes with his captain, raw emotion plain on both their faces. Price gives him a genuine smile. "Congratulations. You're going to be a great father."

There's a lump in his throat as he crosses the campus to the rec room, his nose dipping across Ry's head, breathing him in as deep as he can behind the black cloth mask. "He's gonna be your godfather, little man. We just have to get Mama to agree, don't we?" He tugs the building's door open, ignoring the streams of chatter suddenly grinding to a halt in the hallway. Once he makes it to the rec room and sees that no one else is inside, just Johnny and Gaz battling it out in an intense game of pool, he slips the mask off his face and locks the door.

Soap is the first one to see him. "Steeeamin' jesus, LT is that a bairn!?" Kyle chokes on his water.

"Is that your baby, Riley?" They both scramble forward, Johnny whistling in disbelief.

"Aye, he's got to be. Look at the size of 'im."

"Johnny." Simon gives him the 'settle down' look, but the Sergeant only grins impishly.

"He's hers, innit he?" Gaz reaches, and Orion watches him with interest. "The girl from the bar. The one who lives close to me." Johnny's eyes go wider than globes.

"Ach Ghost, ye been busy wit' that boa-"

"Johnny." He hisses, and Kyle barks a laugh, reaching. Simon doesn't balk about handing Orion over, even though you were cautious about letting other people be around him. This is his team. He trusts them implicitly.

"He's a heavy lad, isn't he?" Kyle bounces him back and forth, all the while Ry stares at him with his head tipped back, mesmerized. "Looks jus' like you."

"Maybe a wee bit more handsome." Johnny's leaning around Kyle, his hand on Ry's back. They're mooning over him, two decorated, strategically brilliant sergeants, cooing at a baby like a bunch of sooks, as Johnny would say.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, a text from you letting him know you're finished, and heading home.

>Has he eaten?

>No, hasn't seem interested.

>Thank god.

Knowing you're probably in pain makes him antsy to get back, and he glances at the guys. "You movin' out in a few hours?"

"Aye, lookin' for some sort of stolen intelligence. Shouldnae be too long. Got a rent-a-Lieutenant and everythin'. Ye'll be back for the next?"

"I will. Stay frosty out there. I expect you all back in one piece."

He triple checks the carseat, testing the straps and the strength of the seatbelt before finally deciding it's secure enough, for the hundredth time today. He takes one last look, and presses a kiss to Orion's head. "Ready, bub? Let's go home and see mama."

#through me (the flood) #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - implied non/con, unhealthy relationships, forced codependence, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Wriothesley knows you don't belong with him.

He has since the day you arrived, all shrunken posture and wrung-out hands and doe eyes blown out so wide, he could've sworn it took you days just to blink. You're far from the first inmate to ever be unprepared for live in the fortress, but even the most petty of criminals usually have a hardened edge, a callous over their more obvious vulnerabilities. You're not a criminal, though - not really, not when you're surrounded by people with blood on their hands, and even your rougher corners are still velvet soft. It's almost impressive, honestly. If he didn't know better, if he thought there was any way it could possibly benefit you, he might think you've left yourself so exposed on purpose.

He knows he's not supposed to play favorites, but he can't help himself. You wouldn't last a day in his fortress if he didn't pull some strings, show some preference, get you a comfortably isolated position filing papers and making tea in his office, where he can keep you at a distance from the more blood-thirsty inmates. It'd be dangerous to let you bunk with someone who might be able to pick out that underlying shake in your voice, who might realize just how easily you'd crack under any amount of pressure, so he tells his guards to look the other way and gets you moved into one the fortress' few private quarters - your new room down the hall from his, just so he can make sure you're not being harassed outside of working hours. The standard-issue inmate coveralls don't exactly suit you, either, so he has a more fitting wardrobe commissioned; all delicate and silken, no harsh burlaps or coarse leathers. You protest, at first, claim you feel conflicted about accepting gifts from your superior, but you come around quickly. After Wriothesley confiscates your prior closet during a routine inspection, especially.

He does make you work for your privileges, of course, even if he can't say you've really earned as much as he does for you. Those fat, adorable tears drip down your cheeks as you struggle to take him down your fluttering throat, as your own drool and his arousal renders the ivory satin of your top transparent. You cry when you're pulled into his lap, too, sobbing into his coat as he rocks you gently on his cock, careful not to bruise your fragile skin and risk shattering one of the few delicate things he can afford to keep to himself, and you carry on for hours after he's had his fill, after you've fallen asleep still leaned against his chest - whimpering and sniffling, nursing your wounds without ever thinking to thank him for not drawing so much as a drop of blood. In his weakest moments, he pictures you somewhere else, somewhere kinder; wrapped in fleece in front of the hearth of a countryside cottage, or dressed in finery on a balcony of Palais Mermonia, where your softness wouldn't have to be so strictly preserved. You'd be happier on the surface. Fuck, if it's possible, you might even be softer on the surface, as tender as he tries to keep you while you're both trapped a thousand leagues underneath it.

You'd be softer, but you wouldn't be with him.

And he's willing to sacrifice just a little of your softness, if it means being the only one who gets to enjoy it.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you

[pshcomforts]

➳ try again | psh.

dad!sunghoon x mom!femreader

“even if we have to go back a long way, i will still feel the same way about you”

synopsis: sunghoon rushes to comfort you after finding out that his daughter, seo-ji, had fainted and been hospitalized.

warnings/content: written in third pov. angst. kind of heartbreak. teensy bit suggestive at the end. second chance. comfort. not proofread. fluff ending :)

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: part one — ₊˚ʚ broken love ɞ˚₊

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: try again by jaehyun & d.ear

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:48 ──────|───────────── 2:10

[ 5:47am ]

y/n stayed in the waiting room alone, impatiently shaking her legs as tears flowed down her cheeks. her fingers picked at each other, scratching whatever to calm herself while waiting to hear back from a doctor.

“please be okay..,” she mumbled to herself, throat choking at the amount of tears that were getting caught up.

“y/n,” a voice called out to her.

her heart dropped to her stomach, already recognizing the person that particular voice belonged to. she heavily breathed, tears still flowing as she stood to face the figure.

“sunghoon..,” she weakly responded.

the male softly gasped before running to her, engulfing his ex into his arms. his hands stroked her hair, instantly soothing her as her sobs got louder.

“sunghoon….,” she quietly croaked again, unable to stop the worried cries for their daughter.

hoon’s heart fell apart at the way she held onto him for comfort. he rubbed his hands against her back while softly tearing up. “you’re okay, gorgeous, i’m here now.” he mumbled, not realizing the nickname that sipped past his lips. “slowly tell me what happened to our baby girl.”

he pulled away, still leaving gentle strokes against her cheeks as he stared into her. “can you do that for me, y/n?” his soothing voice whispered, pushing back a few hair pieces behind her ear.

✩ ‘no matter how many times we fall apart’ ✩

the girl’s breath hitched, swallowing down a few sobs as she nodded her head. “i heard seo-ji cough in the middle of the night, and i went to go check up on her, but she had such a high fever..,” she let her gaze fall down. “and it was nothing that’s happened before, so i rushed to the hospital but she had already fainted.”

y/n felt her lips tremble as she quickly covered her face to hide her tears. the guilt from being a mom was suffocating her, making her overthink about the possible sicknesses her daughter could come down with.

“i should’ve slept with her, i should’ve just stayed in the room with her.”

tears flooded her cheeks again when she thought about the pale face seo-ji had, instantly feeling remorse.

“i’m sorry…,” she hoarsely whispered to sunghoon. “this was all my fault. if i had just stayed in the room, i would’ve been able to notice her much sooner.”

hoon’s gaze softened as tears flowed down his cheeks, body falling in pain of the way the girl he’s loved crumble apart. “y/n..,” he muttered, reaching for her face.

✩ ‘like i said, we’re the ones that matter the most’ ✩

he cupped it, forcing her attention to lay on him as he admired her beautifully sparkled eyes. “this was not your fault. we both know that, seo-ji just grew sick and you’re a great mom for quickly bringing her here, okay?” his thumbs rubbed her cheeks, wiping away the tears while continuing, “i’m sure our baby girl’s okay. she’s strong just like her mom and dad, she always has been from day one.”

✩ ‘we’re not meaningless’ ✩

the girl sniffled as his words instantly brought her back to when their little girl was still a new born.

seo-ji was a preemie, and had just gotten out of the hospital after having to spend her first two months there for incubation.

sunghoon and y/n were so excited to bring their baby home and introduce her to the new world when she began to struggle for air.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

y/n fell upon her knees as preemie seo-ji had been taken to the nicu. tears uncontrollably ran down her cheeks, feeling her heart break into a million pieces each time she thought about her baby fighting to breathe.

hoon was quick to hold onto her, arms around her to create a comforting environment as heavy breaths left him. he felt his throat constantly get caught between air, lips trembling when he remembered his little girl who was too small to even hold.

“it’ll be okay, y/n, our little girl will breathe.” he soothed, giving back strokes toward his wife. “seo-ji is a fighter, and i know she’ll be fighting for her mommy and daddy.”

y/n clung herself to his chest before pulling away, eyes puffy and red from her cries as she mumbled, “you’re right, hoon, she’s our strong girl.”

sunghoon’s lips curled while tears still streamed across his face. “that’s right, pretty girl, she’ll get through this because she wants to meet us.” he leaned in and placed a long, sweet kiss on her forehead, sniffling away the remaining sobs as she nodded.

“seo-ji will meet us,” the girl murmured with optimism.

“that’s right, she will.” he replied, clearing his throat before pulling his favorite person into his arms again.

the two new parents held onto each other as soft tears still ran down their cheeks, clinging onto the hope that their little girl was indeed a fighter.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

y/n shut her eyes in the pain of that memory, hating how her heart stung at it.

she missed how they were, missed how much of good parents they used to be together.

she quickly chewed her lips, directing the pain elsewhere besides her heart as she nodded at sunghoon’s words.

“our baby’s been through a lot, hoon.”

he let out a soft sigh, faintly blushing at the name while letting his head hang low with a nod in silence. “she has, but that’s why she’s so special.” his finger hooked under her chin as he gave a half smile. “she’s gotten it from us.”

y/n’s heart immediately melted, gaze softening at the boy she’s always loved.

she missed this so much. she missed him.

“sunghoon..,” she murmured.

✩ ‘i’m taking a step forward and’ ✩

“yeah, gorgeous?”

a quiet gasp escaped from her, leaving her audibly speechless as his eyes poured with love.

“how long do you plan to stay?”

the wrong question left her and she hated it, but she wasn’t even sure of where he stood.

she watched as his eyes squinted in disbelief. “never.” he firmly spoke. “i’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

✩ ‘i’m telling you what the past has shown us’ ✩

y/n’s heart fluttered, catching herself fall in love with the same college boy all over again.

“you don’t have to—“

“i’m not leaving, y/n.” sunghoon confirmed with his brows slightly scrunched.

when he found his ex lover almost grow a worried look, he quickly corrected himself — “until i know seo-ji’s okay.”

oh.

her throat ran dry as she hesitantly nodded her head. “right.., for our daughter.” she croaked, shaming herself away when she felt her heart burn.

hoon sighed. he didn’t know why he felt the need to correct himself, but he wasn’t even sure of where she stood.

his hands gripped onto hers, fingers tightening around as he murmured, “i’m sure she’ll wake up any time soon.”

y/n agreed, giving a soft hum while clinging her fingers onto his as well. “i know she will, i just can’t help but worry for her.” she replied.

sunghoon pulled her into another hug, arms wrapping around while her hands fisted and laid on his chest. “i worry for our baby too.”

he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head, reeling in the comforting warmth he’s been missing.

he wanted this love again, he wanted her.

the two continued to lay against each other, bodies pressed close as time grew closer to morning.

[ 6:32am ]

the doctor cleared her throat, catching the attention of two exhausted parents.

y/n removed herself first, sitting up straight while sunghoon wished he was able to softly wake her like he used to.

“is seo-ji okay?” she worriedly asked, and the doctor nodded her head.

“she’s doing just fine, she’s currently resting as we speak.”

“can we see her?” hoon questioned, brows furrowed and heart pounding.

the pediatrician nodded her head once more. “of course, she’s just asleep but there is nothing to worry about. she’s just come down with a cold.”

y/n gulped, still feeling the guilt resent her as she muttered, “and her faint?”

“she only fainted because of how much her body was trying to fight the bacteria in her system, but rest assured, she’s doing great now. would mom and dad like to see her?”

the girl quickly turned to her ex-husband who wore the same expression as her, both furiously nodding.

the doctor directed the two to follow her and they did, walking past other rooms until they reached their daughters.

as soon as the door slid open to their little girl resting in the hospital bed, tears quickly filled their eyes.

“seo-ji…,” y/n softly cried, speeding to the side of the bed. “mommy’s sorry.”

her hand moved a few wavy hair pieces out of her child’s face, gently grinning at the familiar hair texture. her eyes filled with love as she never let her gaze leave seo-ji who remained peacefully asleep.

“i’ll give you guys a moment,” she heard the pediatrician say.

sunghoon approached near his girls, placing a warm hand on y/n’s shoulder as she continued to softly sob.

“i miss our lively girl, hoon.” she mumbled, placing a hand back onto his.

“i miss her too.”

he let out a quiet sniffle as tears filled to the rim. “she got that from you, you know?” y/n said, grinning ear to ear at the small memory of sunghoon and her being extroverts together.

he chuckled, toothy smile flashing when he murmured, “i think she actually got it from you, y/n.”

she shook her head, still peering her gaze into her baby girl. “she got it from you, mister loud introvert.”

he chortled out a laugh, eye smiles creasing at the familiar name she always gave him back when they were still dating.

“okay, fine, you might be right on this one.” he laughed again, laying his eyes on his favorite girl, who still didn’t notice the longing stare.

“i know i am,” y/n gleamed, earning another chuckle to erupt out of the two.

it felt right again.

no tension, no bitterness — just two loving parents with their baby.

sunghoon remained to stay attentive on her, mumbling, “y/n..,”

“hm?”

she finally turned, finding the boy already meeting her gaze. her face subtly grew shock but still raised her brows to question his calling for her.

“i…,” his throat suddenly ran dry, not knowing if he should risk it.

the atmosphere became quiet, silence filling every particle in the air as she remained confused when most of her attention stayed on seo-ji.

“i should go..,” he mumbled.

y/n fluttered her eyes down, avoiding his prominent stare while nodding her head. it was obvious her heart shattered at his words, but if she was gonna stay as a single mom, then she should prepare for worse.

“o..oh…,” she softly croaked. “okay.., that’s fine. we both know seo-ji’s okay now, so no worries. you can head off if you need to.”

she forced a smile on her lips, attempting to give reassurance with a head nod.

sunghoon breathed, feeling his heavy heart burden even more. “you don’t need me?” he asked, wishing she’d fight for the relationship.

“seo-ji needs you,” she confirmed. “but if you have to be somewhere else, that’s okay too, hoon.”

the boy pressed his lips into a firm line, silently nodding before heading for the door.

he almost walked out, almost left the possibility of them being together again when his heart called out for her.

he couldn’t leave, not this time.

sunghoon turned, watching how y/n laid her head on seo-ji’s side tummy ached him. he needed to be there. he needed to be with his daughter, and the girl he’s been wanting his ending with.

his feet pushed him closer, swallowing a harsh lump in his throat as he spoke, “y/n.”

she turned her head and his gaze grew soft. he kneeled down next to her, cupping her cheek while uttering, “i still love you.”

adrenaline instantly rushed in her veins as her heart fluttered. “hoon..,” her mouth fell open, too shock to say anything.

“i still want you. i don’t think i’ll ever love anyone else besides you, you’re the only one who completes me. if we have to start again, then we will because i’ll be in love with you each time we have to go back.”

✩ ‘so whenever you ask me again how i feel’ ✩

his hand pushed her cheeks up, making her eyes fall on him. sunghoon’s lips softly curled as he displayed hope in his eyes. “my answer will always be you, y/n. no matter where we stand, it’ll always be you.” tears welled up as he pulled her closer, letting his head bunk against hers.

✩ ‘please remember, my answer is you’ ✩

“sunghoon,” she mumbled, gently pulling away.

he felt scared, afraid that his ex-wife would push him away. he didn’t want to let someone special like her go.

“i still love you too.” his face instantly relaxed, making her grin as she continued, “i love you so much, hoonie. nothing can break that away from me. i always believed you’d be my soulmate, and i know you said we could restart but..,”

she stroked his cheeks with her thumbs, admiring his charming features while uttering, “how do we know we won’t make the same mistake again? we divorced so our little girl wouldn’t grow up with constant arguments in the house.”

sunghoon hummed as he gave a faint grin. “we won’t go through that again, i’ll make sure we won’t. i don’t want to ever lose you.” he replied. “it was hard enough to see that we both walked away from this.”

the boy leaned in, lips ghosting over hers with a desire. “whatever problem we have, we’ll fix it, y/n. do you think we can try again?” his breath fanned against hers, making her lean in as well.

“yes, hoon, we can.”

✩ ‘we’ll be alright, i want to try again’ ✩

he plastered on a wide grin, flashing his fangs before he pulled his girl into a kiss. his hands held onto her cheeks, moving her into place as he pressed his lips against hers.

sunghoon quietly groaned in satisfaction, finally tasting his craving. he felt her hands wrap around his neck, pushing them closer until she pulled away with a need for air.

he kept the smile on his face as he remained close, pressing sweet kisses on her lips.

“missed kissing you, you know that?” he mumbled against her, earning a laugh and a hit to the shoulder like they were college kids in love again.

“sunghoon, we’re still in a hospital.”

he pursed his lips into a firm line and hummed. “is there a rule that says we can’t kiss in hospitals?” he leaned in again but she pulled away, earning a quiet pout.

“let’s focus on our daughter, okay?”

y/n stood, allowing him to stand as well. his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, giving a back hug while pulling her closer to his chest. she missed this clingy side of him.

“you think she’ll be able to handle being an older sibling?” hoon asked, causing a gasp to be heard from his favorite girl.

“park sunghoon!”

he quickly chuckled, muzzling his head into her shoulder as he murmured, “i’m kidding…, seo-ji would be a great sister though, just saying.”

the male pressed a kiss against her neck, letting y/n softly laugh as her hand held onto her baby’s hand.

“maybe later in the future…, but for now, i’m okay with our little girl.”

sunghoon softly huffed, faintly wishing to be blessed with a baby boy as his hand held the two. he let it wrap around, bringing warmth while y/n let one of her fingers be placed in the palm of seo-ji’s hands.

she gave faint scratches, hoping the best for her daughter when she felt a sudden squeeze. her mouth fell open, heart loudly pounding in her chest as she turned to sunghoon.

the two were instantly reminded of when preemie seo-ji had to be taken back.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ — flashback

they stayed at the nicu as one of the nurses gave the baby to sunghoon, allowing him to finally hold his daughter after weeks of waiting.

tears rushed to his eyes with how little she was, barely feeling her weight while grinning ear to ear. every pressure on his shoulders immediately dropped once he had his daughter in his arms.

“hey baby..,” he whispered. “how are you doing?”

y/n’s heart softened at his voice as she glanced down to her baby. “mommy and daddy missed you very much,” she smiled. “stay strong so we can take you home, okay baby seo-ji?”

her fingers gently rubbed her cheeks, watching the little girl coo at the action earned tears to well up in her and sunghoon’s eyes. she then let her fingers run to the small hands seo-ji had, giving soft strokes when she felt the hand tighten around.

it barely wrapped all the way, but seo-ji still kept her grip tight, soon smiling with her eyes closed.

there was that cute grin inherited from her dad.

“hoonie,” y/n harshly whispered. “do you see that?? she’s holding my hand!”

“lucky,” he fumed.

“you’re literally holding her,” she murmured back.

“i want her to hold my hand too…,” the boy pouted.

y/n softly laughed as she rolled her eyes, putting her attention back onto her baby while sunghoon remained locked on his pretty girl. the genuine smile she had from the little action melted his heart, making him fall for her even more.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

their eyes filled with love at seo-ji who clung her hands around y/n’s finger, as if nothing changed.

sunghoon’s lips coiled, loving the fact that he got to relive this heartwarming moment with every mental picture he took. 5 years later, and it was the same tender feeling.

he laid his head on y/n’s shoulder again, finding comfort in it as he murmured, “you think she’ll be surprised when she finds out we’re together again?”

the girl laughed, rubbing her baby’s hands while nodding. “she definitely will, but she loves us together anyway,” she replied, grinning widely at the healing wound in her heart.

hoon agreed, pressing a soft kiss onto his girl’s forehead before they sat in the chairs of the room.

the two curled up against each other once more, y/n resting her head against his broad chest as he engulfed her into his arms, letting his head fall on top of hers with a soft sigh.

no more open wounds, and no more pain — sunghoon and y/n were giving it a try again, and were definitely not letting each other go this time.

✩ ‘we’ll be alright, please try again’ ✩

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

taglist: @ni-kisgf @yeonjinnie @normasagrary @yongbokified @woniess777 @angelpatch-p @en-verse @en-chantedtomeetyou @hoonieluvr @velvetkisscs @pshlov @mintchocos-things @waywen03 @jakieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee @eneiyri @h4918ymc @bluejay3m @huan9jun @adroitlane @ashgonedash @ethanatvre @jinxpastels @shuichi-sama @lovelycassy @leeyu-ri @briefbananaarcade @evelynlvly @myheelody @ikaw-at-ikaw @jooniesbears-blog @zyvlxqht @powerpuffstuts @nilas-posts @moonchus @imjakes-wifeofc1 @mnxnii @cleverwastelandsheep @becskz @bubblybunny97 @doyunkang @yanggarden106

+ a few others i thought would want to be tagged. also the ones bolded, i couldn’t find your profiles, so sorry!

#pshcomforts #enhypen #enhypen imagines #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #enhypen niki #enhypen jungwon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enha angst #enha fluff #enha x reader #enha scenarios #enha imagines #enha #sunghoon angst #sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon angst #park sunghoon fanfic

[artdcnaldson]

ok remember when I said that last ask was the horniest thing I'd ever written? Well scratch that bc this is a new record. (Obligatory disclaimer if you don't like it feel free to delete/ignore it)

Imagine- if you will- tashi bringing you to one of arts games. And you're in a sweet little tennis dress and you sit next to her and watch art, not even paying attention to the game just taking in his form, the shine of sweat, the concentration on his face, the little grunts and moans. And obviously you start shifting around in your seat, because, what are you supposed to be??? Dry???? No! So, it's the last break and tashi takes you to the bathroom and makes you lean over so she can check on the situation, and your white panties are so wet they're basically see through (in an ideal world she would've banned you from wearing any just to torture you but unfortunately they're famous and with the press and everything it's too much of a risk 😞 ) and you're really hoping she'll help you out but she just goes "hmm" and takes you back to your seat. And the breaks not over, arts noticed that yall were gone and he's making eye contact with tashi and she just. Nods at him. And he's already winning but for the rest of the match he's on fire, practically wiping the floor with the other guy.

After it's over and he's won and done all the press and stuff, you ride back to their hotel, with tashi in the middle bc she's the only one who can be trusted to keep control of herself. You and art are practically vibrating, with desire and exhilaration respectively. So you get back to the hotel room and tashi tells art to go sit on the couch. Then finally, she gives you a little jerk of her chin and you scramble to put yourself over his knee bc you know that he's always antsy after a win but tashi will want to go over everything while it's as fresh as possible, so you just hang out there and let him play with your sopping cunt and ignore you, just feeling him hard against your stomach but satiated for now since he has something to do while he listens to tashis critiques. When she's done she'll give you further instructions and maybe reward you for good behavior.

(am I gonna become a smut writer this is kinda fun)

I’m so fucking obsessed. I’m on my knees. Anything to keep Artashi happy 😁🫵 just look at them

Rating: E(18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, face sitting, fingering, mild mommy/daddy kink, mild dom/sub dynamics) that’s it that’s the story. Just porn without plot

your brain is just sooo fuzzy and mindless while art’s playing with you. The cute shorts you wore beneath the dress tugged to the side, his fingers stuffed inside of you, your own juices smeared down your thigh, spilling more with each slow thrust of his fingers. It could be a few minutes, or an hour. You just know that you lose yourself in the rise and fall of Tashi’s voice as she runs through her notes, in the warm pressure of Art’s thighs pressing against you.

You must’ve gotten too loud, because Tashi’s kneeling in front of you— holding your chin in her hand, forcing eye contact. “Baby, how’s Art supposed to focus when you’re acting like this, huh? Tomorrow’s match is important, he needs to hear this.”

You whine. Big mistake. Tashi meets Art’s gaze, makes a face you don’t understand. And then Art’s slipping his fingers from your warm, needy cunt. “Clean him up,” Tashi instructs.

You wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking on them, cleaning any evidence of your arousal off. You take them deeper, feeling the brush of his fingers at the back of his throat. You moan softly— Tashi grabs your hair and pulls you off.

“Do you have any critiques for Art?” She asks. You blink slowly. Critiques?? What was there to critique?? “You were at the game. Show Art that you were paying attention.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you looked into Art’s eyes. God, he was so pretty. And then your eyes traveled down, and he was so hard in his shorts that it was tenting the fabric. You just wanted to mouth at him through them, make him feel good. “I— I don’t.”

Tashi sighed, almost disappointed, but not really. Tennis critiques weren’t what you were there for. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” She patted your thigh. “Go lay down on the bed.”

You obey so sweetly— hands by your sides, fisted in the duvet so you won’t be tempted to touch yourself. Your thighs rub together as you seek friction, need pulsing between your thighs, adding to the mess of wetness.

It’s five minutes (which you know, because you count) until Tashi and Art join you. Art’s down to the fucking obscene briefs Tashi makes him wear, straining against the fabric obscenely. And Tashi’s wearing fucking agent provocateur, so beautiful that you could die happy just at the sight of her.

“If you paid attention to the match, we would’ve been really sweet to you,” Tashi hums as she takes off your dress. The shorts are soaked so badly that she practically peels them away from your cunt. “But all you could think about was getting fucked, huh?”

You nod as she presses two fingers between your lips, pushing all the way until she hits the back of your throat and you gag around them. She stays like that, thrusting her fingers between your lips, smiling every time your eyes fill with unshed tears and your throat constricts. “It’s been a long day. Just let mommy and daddy use you.”

And you do, because that’s all you can really ask for. Tashi slips off her lingerie, putting on a show without even trying. She straddles your face, knees planted on either side of your head, and sinks onto your waiting mouth.

You moan at the taste of her on your tongue, hands eagerly grabbing at her ass to pull her closer. Usually she would scold you for being greedy, but it was the farthest thing from her mind while she was benefiting from said neediness. You eagerly alternated between lapping at her dripping center and giving her clit the attention it needs.

And then there’s Art. He pulls apart your thighs and pushes into the tight, wet heat waiting for him there. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as he sinks inch after inch after inch inside. He groans at the feeling of your pussy gripping him, pulling him in, in, in. His grip on your hips is so tight it feels bruising.

You lose yourself in the two of them— brain going fuzzy and empty. All you knew, all that mattered in the moment was Tashi, and Art, and how good you felt.

And Tashi’s moaning above you— relishing in your need to please. Even with her husband balls deep inside of you, even with your mind so fuzzy, you keep your attention divided so fairly. You were so fucking nice, she didn’t even have to take the reins— she just got to sit there and let you work her with your tongue.

You were in fucking heaven. Art wasn’t content just using— it feels better when you cum while he’s inside of you. He moves you like a pretty little doll, adjusting you just right. He puts your legs over his shoulders so he gets deeper, kissing your cervix with each deep thrust. His thumb presses against your clit, rubs in slow circles.

Tashi cums first— hips stuttering as she grinds against your face. You relish in it, licking at her center as she comes down, until the lightest brush against her clit makes her twitch with overstimulation. She moves off of you, kissing you with slow, sweet laps of her tongue. You give a shuddery gasp into her mouth.

“Is daddy making you feel good?” Her words are cooed against your ear. You nod wordlessly, only capable of pretty moans or needy whines. She turns her gaze to Art, who’s already close as is, without the attention of his fucking perfect wife.

“Close,” Art groans, meeting her gaze. Her lips turn into an amused smirk as she pushes his thumb off of your clit, and replaces it with her own lithe fingers.

Your back arches as she works you with her fingers, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Art continues to fuck into you. Each thrust is accompanied by lead, near pornographic sounds— the squelch of your soaked cunt swallowing his cock, the slap of his balls against your ass, the fucked-out moans passing his lips.

Your climax overtakes you suddenly. Your back arches off the bed as you cum. Your pussy clenches around Art’s cock as he continues to fuck into you, and your release leaves an obscene, creamy ring around the base of him. Tashi’s lips are on yours, swallowing down the moans and cries falling from your lips as Art fucks you into overstimulation.

Art buries himself within you as he cums, spilling into you with a few shallow thrusts. You whine when he finally pulls out and some of cum dribbles out, making an even bigger mess of the duvet.

Tashi pets your hair sweetly, kisses your sweat-sticky forehead. Art leaves to grab a towel— you hear him dampening it in the fancy en-suite bathroom. “By the way, I thought you shouldn’t get to cum.”

Art laughs lightly as he returns, cleaning you up between your thighs. “I told her I’d throw the match tomorrow, it always works.” He kisses you deeply, and you moan against his mouth. God, he was a good kisser.

“I can always just stop believing you,” Tashi reminded him. “Maybe I was in a giving mood.” Art snorts, you meet her gaze through narrowed eyes.

She’s right where she belongs. Art’s head is on her shoulder, yours rests on her chest. You’re all just a tangle of sweaty limbs.

TASHI DUNCAN I WONT U SO BAD 😚🫵

Sorry to Art he truly is a racket and a dick in this fic

#Tashi Duncan x reader #Tashi Duncan #tashi duncan smut #art donaldson x reader #art Donaldson #art donaldson smut #my writing #blurbs

[sceletaflores]

Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.

Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔

Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up.

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, malpractice? unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)

authors note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.

That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.

It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.

"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"

"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."

The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.

Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.

That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.

Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.

"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"

"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.

"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.

"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."

You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.

"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.

You do.

"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."

"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.

You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.

You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?

Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.

The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.

You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.

Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.

Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.

"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”

The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.

You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you. 

“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.

She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.

“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”

You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone. 

“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.

You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.

You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you. 

The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.

The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.

You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you. 

Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.

“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.” 

Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.

The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. 

“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”

“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey. 

You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.

Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.

“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.

Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.

You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.

“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.

Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."

You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.

Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands. 

You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.

Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.

As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.

“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure,  "Just try to relax.” 

With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.

"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter. 

You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”

Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”

You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.

“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.

“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”

Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything. 

You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.

“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.

Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.

You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."

You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.

"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.

"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings." 

As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.

The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done. 

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.

Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”

You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.

“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up. 

“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.

"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.

He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.

You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.

Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.

He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you. 

Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.

“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.

It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back. 

“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house. 

Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things. 

The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.

As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her. 

“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”

You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”

Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.” 

No question marks. Motherfucker.

You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”

Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”

You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”

Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.

You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.

"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."

Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.

“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”

"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."

Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."

With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience. 

Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to. 

That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.

His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing. 

The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold. 

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment. The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want some random massage therapist.

“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.

You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.

Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”

It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”

Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.

The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.

You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.

“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.

You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk about that door right now and never step foot in their house again. 

Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything. 

His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.

It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now. 

Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him. 

Who are you to deny him?

Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over. 

Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.

You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.

“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly. 

You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue. 

“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.

You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.

It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.

Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.

Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.

“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?

You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.” 

It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest. 

"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still  squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist. 

You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.

Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.

Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from. 

You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.

Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.

As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.

As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,”  he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”

You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.

 "I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room. 

You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.

You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.

Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying. 

“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.

You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.

Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.

“I need you.”

His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it. 

The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.

When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you. 

Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you. 

You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.

The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself. 

Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.

UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you.  Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.

Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.

Art okay.

You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets. 

As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.

Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"

He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.

You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.

Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”

You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”

The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.

Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.

“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”

The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him. 

His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.

You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.

You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.

“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.

Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit. 

“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter. 

Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.

A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.

“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.

Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining. 

“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”

Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”

“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.

“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.

“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.

It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.

Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.

Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.

“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”

You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Art” you whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.

Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.

Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips. 

Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.

Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.

…

When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.

You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.

You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.

The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.

Art loves you.

Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.

“He smiles more.”

The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan. 

Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.

You don't need to ask her who "he" is.

You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.

"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.

Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.

You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.

You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.

She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.

When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.

Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.

You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.

If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.

Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”

You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.

“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”

Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks. 

This was never about the goddamn massages.

For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.

"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."

Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.

There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…

These people are so fucking weird.

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes

#✧: 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 #natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words #this took me so long #it's seven in the morning lmao #someone help me write faster #cause it's such a problem #like seriously #okay bye #love you hope you like this #challengers #challengers movie #challengers x reader #challengers fanfic #challengers smut #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x you #sort of

[riiwrites]

“dancing in the dark.”

summary : when the BSD men catch you dancing.

includes : chuuya, dazai, fyodor

request : “i was thinking what fyodor, dazai and chuuya would react if their s/o is actually a dancer and keeps it a secret from them!” - 💙

a/n: thank you so much for the request, angel!! i really tried to fit the description as you requested in your og ask, i hope it’s fit to your standards :) also tysm to my lovely poe for being my russian translator for the nicknames that fyodor uses in this fic! show him some love, they’re so so great <3 @cherrymoka222

masterlist | main page | daily click

CHUUYA

• Chuuya truly thought he knew everything about you. From your likes to dislikes, your personality traits and little silly habits. He thought he had you figured out.

• That was until, he caught you in the garden.

• Moving elegantly but so swiftly, he was in awe.

• He didn’t dare to disturb you, thinking this moment was just so perfect to ruin.

• And he thought, if you were to hide such a thing from him, how would you react if he knew? So he never confronts you about it.

• That is until, he has a better idea.

“Right, baby..I’m gonna head to bed.” Chuuya announced with a yawn, making you turn your head as you nod softly, smiling at him.

“Kay.”

He begins to walk out the room, as soon as he reaches the doorway however, he takes one last little glance at you and smiles to himself before heading off.

An hour or so later, the normal time you would often “head to bed” came around but in reality, you’re heading to your escape in the garden.

As you head towards the back door, you couldn’t help but have a sneaky feeling that something was different about tonight.

Oh how you were so right.

There stood Chuuya, still in his normal work attire with a big smirk on his face as he watched your little suspicious look turn into one of shock.

“Hey.” He says.

“..Hey..” You repeat, slowly making your way towards him. As you did, you noticed the scenery around you.

The bushes surrounding and sculpting the area were lit beautifully with fairy-lights scattered across them left to right, with a little boombox sat on a nearby table with slow jazz playing softly in the background.

“..So you know..?” You ask.

“Oh I know.” He instantly says, letting out a chuckle as he saw your flushed face out of embarrassment.

“Come now, doll..why the face? You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” He says softly, walking towards you and creating the distance between you both smaller and smaller with each passing second. “I think it’s beautiful.” He whispers as he reaches out to touch you, lifting your chin up with his gloved fingers.

You shyly locate your eyes to find his, a little hesitance in your voice as you whispered “Really?”

He nodded, his smirk now changing to a soft and comforting smile as he whispers back. “Really.” The tone in his voice sounding so sincere and full of genuine honesty made you feel giddy.

He leans in and kisses your lips ever so gently, before pulling away after a few seconds to hold out his hand towards you.

“Can I?” He asks.

You smile, nodding as you put your hand in his, and he slowly walks backwards and guides you throughout the garden, spinning you around and dancing with you in the dark as if time was nonexistent.

DAZAI

• This smug bastard already has a pretty fine idea about your talent.

• He’s already onto your every move.

• Why? Because he sees the way your eyes light up once anything dance related shows up on the screen and you look so engrossed with it.

• He thinks it’s adorable, really. He’s always known you’ve had a liking for dance.

• But, catching you whilst you’re actually dancing just like the stars on TV? Moving so graciously with your legs as you slowly make the garden your own.

• He could watch you for hours, and he did.

You walk on water like it’s fragile to touch, the little ripples appearing just below your toes as you tread ever so lightly but dance with such a powerful impact that could make everyone stop and stare.

Well, it made someone specific stop and stare.

“Wow..” You’re instantly snapped out of your thoughts as you fall straight into the water, snapping your head towards the sound of your disturbance. You shoot him a glare.

“Whaaat? Can’t I watch my beautiful bella dance like nobody’s watching?”

“Well someone’s clearly watching.” You scoff as you stand up, your lower half now drenched in water.

“I’ve been watching you for hours, Y’know~” He chimes, smirking as you step out of the water and shake your legs to remove any excess water.

“How did I not notice your eery gaze carving holes into the back of me..?” You whisper to yourself, but Dazai answers your rhetorical question anyway.

“I’ve actually known about your little talent for months now, you just haven’t spotted me. Until today when I was oh so rudely interrupted..” He sighs heavily.

“Okay, one, Joe Goldberg, cool it.” You retort as you walk towards the back door, to which he was standing in front of. “And two, you interrupted me! I would’ve kept dancing if you kept your mouth shut..”

“Oh?~” He says, his smirk only growing wider. “Is that an invitation, dear?”

You couldn’t help your blush as you look up at him, smiling a little as your annoyed facade fades. “..Maybe..”

He smiles, hopping off the steps leading to the back door and placing a kiss on your forehead. “Aren’t you just the sweetest when you’re not mad at me?” He says, then, he flicks your forehead.

“Ow!- dick..” You murmur as Dazai walks past you, giggling to himself as he reaches the bit of the garden to which you were dancing on.

“Well? Show me the VIP experience, bella.”

You couldn’t help but smile and roll your eyes as you rush to the pool of water as Dazais eyes follow you, waiting patiently for you to begin.

As you begin to dance and return to your concentrated look. Dazai stares with the biggest smile on his face as he watches you take the night away with your actions. God, how lucky was he?

And he could’ve sworn he fell in love with you all over again, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

FYODOR

• Like Dazai, he knows about your liking towards dancing.

• But, he doesn’t know you actually do it, he just thought it was something you enjoyed to watch.

• You tried your hardest to hide it from him, simply because you didn’t want to bother him with your interests whilst he was busy working and didn’t want to be a distraction.

• He suspected something the moment you started acting suspicious around him, you could never hide anything from him.

• He eventually found out about it one day when he was reading and then suddenly heard piano music being played from outside.

• His interest was piqued almost immediately, as he closed his book and slowly made his way throughout the house and out to the garden.

• He had his suspicions, and as he reached the door and opened it quietly, they were confirmed.

• There you were, dancing ever so beautifully and spinning heavenly. Why would you hide this from him?

• He wanted to find out, and he was going to.

Soon, the music came to an end, putting an end to your routine as you descend from your tiptoes and onto the ground flat. There were a few seconds of silence until the area was filled with sounds of slow clapping.

You could’ve swore you heard your heart stop.

“Myshka..why’d you stop?” He says with a little smirk. You turn around slowly as your met with your lovers strong gaze.

“Oh..uhm..because the song..ended..” You stammer, looking down at your feet as you could practically feel your inner self growing smaller and smaller with each moment of silence.

Fyodor walks towards you, hands clasped together. “What a performance, lapachka..You move so elegantly.” He compliments you, to which you blush and move your hands to your face.

“You weren’t supposed to know..” You muffle out, and he can’t help but chuckle at your cute actions. He gently takes your hands and pulls them from your face, giving you the same smile but this time, it looked comforting.

“And why not?” He asks.

“I just..” You pause, becoming careful with your words. “I didn’t want to bother you with it..”

His gaze becomes softer as he appears a bit confused, and also..saddened? It only lasts a second though as his smirk returns and he strokes your cheek.

“You could never bother me, dear..” He whispers as he kisses your lips. You close your eyes and kiss him back, going up on your tiptoes to get a better angle. He pulls away and continues stroking your cheek, before pulling away and walking past you and heading towards the music player himself.

You raise an eyebrow as you turn towards him. “..What are you doing?” You ask skeptically. He switches on a channel of classical music, looking up at you with the same look on his face as he extends a hand out towards you.

“Come.” He says, and you instantly follow.

He takes your hand and you both begin to way to the music, his feet moving just the same as yours as if he was an expert on what he was doing. You were surprised.

“How are you so experienced with this?” You giggle.

“I’ve adapted to the area of dancing in..every lifetime let’s just say..” He replies, spinning you around slowly once before going back to sway with you. You smile, making Fyodor chuckle just a little.

You both danced for most of the night, and being in eachothers arms made Fyodor think he was one of the luckiest men in the world.

Maybe living in this lifetime wasn’t so bad, as long as it meant being with you.

TAGLIST : @forgotten-blues @ruru-kiss @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101 @reesesnieces @suzurans-world @heartsfourdazai @nomnomventi @silverbladexyz @inojuuy @boarcide @cherrymoka222 @kissesmellow21 @aliyahgracedrawing @chuuyathehatrack2 @boredwithwrath @rainy-dazie @lone-ray @ishqani @fun-cats @wefureko-blog @hoicacti @seikkoh @famousfoxkingdom @morrie-rose @underscoredaniii @monmush @night-dazai @s1eepybunny @minomikn @pinkdaises @lalalanddddddddd @mayaaluvvvv @probablyzombiedinosaurs @rinismahname @starrs20 @just4notherhumanbeing @little-miss-chaoss @drowningfishy @saeandscaralover @minniepresents

✿ riiwrites 2024 ; please refrain from ever plagiarising or reposting any of my works without crediting.

#𝐫𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 ༄ #dividers belong to cafekitsune :) #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #fluff #bsd x you #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd fyodor #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor x female reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor fluff #fyodor headcanons #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #chuuya x female reader #chuuya x reader fluff #dazai x reader fluff #dazai x fem reader #dazai headcanons #dazai osamu x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #osamu dazai x reader #bsd dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara x reader #bungo stray dogs chuuya

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 8

Hey...😁 So this is basically all filth but there's a lot of realization in it so it's educational filth!

What do you think of this growth?

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The Favor Masterlist

WC- 7.8k

Warnings- buckle up- Daddy kink, anal, BDSM, dom/sub dynamic, both soft and mean dom H, possessive H, spitting, use of sex toys, impact play, spanking.. probably more tbh. let me know if I missed one!!!

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

Y/N could feel a shift in them, but she couldn’t exactly pinpoint where it started. 

Sitting in his bed, she had him standing on the side with her back towards him as nimble fingers curled into her hair as he brought them back into a plait. And for some reason, it felt more intimate than anything else they’d done so far. 

Getting back from the bar, Harry had been adamant that she take a quick shower and dry her hair, welcoming her back in with some cut up fruit and juice to have while he did her hair for her. No one had done it for her since her mum, and that was when she was just a wee little thing. 

Sitting in her nightie she’d packed specifically for his viewing pleasure, he’d given her a long look before muttering to her to get on the bed before he lost it again. 

So she did, following instructions yet again as he had hair ties from when he said his hair was longer. He was increasingly gentle, careful not to snag any knots as he moved her hair around and smoothed it back to avoid any weird spots or bubbles in the hair. When she asked why, he had simply said he wanted her hair out of her face. 

Considering they were going to the illusive club tomorrow, questions kept cropping up in her brain and it felt increasingly difficult to keep them from spewing out of her mouth, so she allowed them to be set free. Harry had always been good with her questions before, but she’d been a little nervous about ruining the comfortable silence they’d fallen into. 

“Do they know you at the club pretty well?” His fingers faltered in her hair at the question but only for a moment before righting themselves. 

“They do, yes. I had been a frequent flyer but I haven't been in a bit.” His voice was calm and gentle, much like his hands. It amazed her how rough and mean he could be during sex, could smack her and choke her, call her a set of holes, but the moment it stopped he treated her like the most delicate little flower whose petals were worth millions. It had thrown her off at first, she had to admit, but now it was something she was growing to look forward to. It was rare she got handled like she was precious and at first she had to admit it made her uneasy, but now? Now she was leaning into it like a kitten searching for pets. 

“May I ask why you stopped?” She was extremely curious about it, considering that had been the catalyst of their arrangement, but Y/N didn’t want to push too far into uncomfortable territory for him. 

“Well…” There was a sigh behind her. “I didn’t have a sub of my own and hooking up with someone for a single night isn’t fulfilling to me anymore. I desire a connection, trust… It had been hard for me lately to get into the headspace with someone I’d just met and wasn’t going to see again.” There was a pause as he finished the plait, fastening it with the hair tie. “Lately I’ve just been craving intimacy and a connection. For me, half of the fun of the lifestyle is having that trust. How much can you trust someone after an hour, y’know? It’s partially why I had us meet and discuss prior to even doing anything, and I took it slow with you. I didn’t just fuck you right then and there. A good dom would get to know you and have proper conversations before playing with you.” But internally, he really did hope no one else would get that privilege but himself. 

“I understand.” She turned around to face him, looking up at his still standing face from her position sitting with her legs crossed in a pretzel. “I was worried at first… you know, when we agreed to this. I’ve been eager to try, but I was also really nervous. I was nervous you’d not find me attractive or something I wanted to try would freak you out. Or…” There was a debate in her mind if she wanted to say it or not, but considering what had happened tonight, she decided to say it. “Or you’d just view sex as some sort of favor and not actually enjoy it.” 

It made him frown when she dropped her eyes from his own, fiddling with her fingers and avoiding contact. That was the last thing he’d thought of. If anything, he forgot about the Danny part and focused on building a dynamic with her far more than he should considering the consequences but he knew she wasn’t dumb. Even if they both didn’t say it, there was something deeper there. And while he wasn’t quite brave enough to admit feelings fully, he wasn’t about to let her think any bit of that could ever be true. 

“I enjoy it far more than I ever anticipated, and ever should have.” He said quietly, tapping her chin. “Look at me while we’re talking, darling- thank you.” A softer smile curled on his lips as he allowed himself to stroke her cheek, taking a deep inhale. “Don’t worry about any single part of that. I think… you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve set my eyes on. There’s a reason I didn’t talk to you so much when you were around. I knew my attraction to you would grow and you were someone else's… This was a twist of fate.” The admission made her eyes widen slightly but he wasn’t done. “And not a single thing you’ve mentioned has freaked me out. As someone with my background growing up and experiencing the community full force, I’ve seen it all and m’willing to try anything with you.” There was a twinge in his heart as she rested her cheek in his palm, giving him the softest eyes he’d ever seen in his life. He could see that she trusted him, but he had to ask. “Do you trust me, Y/N?” The question lingered in the air as he searched her features.

“I do.” There wasn’t a lick of hesitation. The girl held more trust in him than she did her own boyfriend which… she’d need to unpack later. “I know you’d never hurt me and have my best interest at heart.” It had been proven as much tonight when he’d stuck up for her, that he’d been so irritated with the other man for ignoring her, that he gave a fuck about how she felt. There were texts every day asking how her job was, if she ate, what she was doing to unwind, placing more care and interest in her than she’d felt in a long time. 

“I do, sweetheart. I really do. I care about you a lot.” The murmur was soft, their voices hushed even though no one could overhear. “I want t’make all of those fantasies you have come true. The one we talked about. I’ll take care of you, okay?” He felt her nod against his hand before gripping his wrist and pulling it towards her mouth. There was nothing said as he let her do what she wanted while watching curiously. The twinkle of mischief rose in her eye again, sparking a flame in his stomach as she exposed her pink tongue to him and brought the fingers that had been stroking her cunt while they were out into her mouth. 

Hearing him talk so sweetly about her had turned her on again. She’d been good tonight, at least she thinks so, but she wanted to tease him a little bit. Didn’t he know that being so nice to her would work her up? Couldn’t he guess that the sweeter he was, the wetter she got? She got both sides of him. Sweet Harry, and the mean Daddy she had slipped up with later. 

“Tastes like you, hm?” The tone shift was so easy, so quick that Y/N’s tummy flipped. “See… m’nice to you, and then you’ve got t’go and be a dirty little thing. Should’ve known to keep my sweet words to when you’re fucked out and limp. Turns you on when I’m sweet to you, doesn’t it?” It was a tease considering Harry knew he couldn’t stop himself from being nice to her. It was what he wanted. 

But right now he felt the mean streak kick back in. 

“Open wider.” He instructed, watching for her to listen, but she didn’t. Instead she sucked over his fingers again, testing his patience. “I told you to open.” One more chance he’d give her. 

Y/N was trying to misbehave. She wanted to see what he’d do. Pushing boundaries. See how he’d handle her. Taking his fingers into her throat, she gagged a little but kept them there as his gaze turned dark, eyes blazing at the misbehavior. This was what she meant by wanting to be a brat. 

She hadn’t expected him to kneel on the bed, taking her hair in his hand while ripping the wet fingers from her mouth. She hadn’t seen the slap coming. Wet fingers smacked over her cheek, shocking her slightly as the sting made her throb. He’d only done this twice before, but the submissive really fucking liked it. A moan left her throat as soon as it pulled away, making him snarl. Again, his fingers swiped against her cheek, making her mouth open a little bit. 

“Fucking brat.” He grit out. “Serves me right for being nice t’you. And to think I was going to be nice to you tonight…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Open that fucking mouth or I’ll force it open.” 

Y/N was tempted to disobey but she wanted to see why he wanted it, so she listened. Tongue out, she fluttered her lashes at him as the grip on her braid stung against her scalp. She hadn’t expected him to lean forward, pursing his lips and spitting right into her mouth. “Don’t swallow. Keep it there- Don’t fucking move.” He ordered, though he didn’t do anything else. He simply stared at her, eyes narrowed as she looked back up at him. This view was perfect in her opinion. She felt small, delicate, like he could throw her around- but so strong and confident like this. It felt like she was capable of anything. 

“Since you want t’call me your Daddy so badly, I think we should take care of that. Acting like a fucking brat, even after I was so nice and let you cum on my fingers in the middle of the week…” Shaking his head, he leaned in again and spit right on the flat of her tongue before using the sucked fingers to spread it over her tongue and down on her chin, letting some drip off her tongue down to her tits. “Now you can swallow.” 

Y/N hadn’t seen this bit yet. There had been peeks of it, little hints, but his demeanor had shifted into something she’d been dying to see. Just like in the hallway, she wanted him to take. Take, take, take until she had given it all to him. “Sorry, Sir.” She whispered, not daring to wipe herself clean. The mess was what she deserved, a filthy badge of honor.

A look of disapproval was shot her way as he used her hair as a leash, leading her to the very edge of the bed. “No, no, no, Darling.” He scolded, shaking his head at the honorific. “Where’s that other name that you called me when begging for my load inside you?” His eyebrow raised. “I liked that one for tonight. Let me hear that.” 

“Sorry, Daddy.” she whispered, wincing as he arched her head back. 

“Yeah, y’should be. Pissed me the fuck off.” At that he could see her shrink a little in her form, making him take a moment to check on her. Softening his voice, he caught her attention and gentled his grip for a moment to give her a chance to give her a beat to say something if need be. “You know how to use your colors. Where are you right now?”

“Green.” She nodded. “I don’t want to really upset you though.” 

“You’re not, sweetheart. You’re alright.” He promised, leaning down to kiss her once before his mask slipped back on. “Now I think…. That we should teach you some manners. Can you handle yourself for a moment? I think I’ve got the solution to get that brattiness out of your system.” 

Y/N nodded,  more than willing to hand over quite literally anything the man had to offer. It was pathetic but she found herself vying for even a tiny bit of his approval. The man had control of her body in ways she’d only dreamt of, so of course she’d hand it over on a silver platter. “What do you want from me, Daddy?” She whispered, watching his eyes as they trailed over her with this smirk that slightly unnerved her. 

“I think… I’ve given your cunt a good amount of attention tonight. It’s time for me to play with your ass.” 

—

Y/N was slightly humiliated as she pressed her cheek to the mattress, Harry’s spit still on her chin as her arms extended back so her hands could spread her ass open for him. He wasn’t even paying attention to her yet, instead looking through the bedside table for whatever it is that he was going to use on her. 

Was she nervous? Of course she was. The only play she’d had with her ass had been on her own accord or when Harry had stuck his thumb in, but the excitement heavily outweighed it. If she could choose anyone to be her first in this, it would be him. Sure, he’d bully her a little because he knew that was what she liked, but he’d take care of her. Harry always took care of her, no matter what. Sex or not. He was slowly overtaking her brain and she found that it was exactly how she liked it. 

“Such pretty holes.” His voice broke her out of her train of thought, heat raising on her cheeks as she could feel his gaze. Completely exposed for him to see, she felt the cool air on her most intimate parts as his warm hand ran over her now clean inner thigh. “You’re already wet. Seems you do like a bit of humiliation, don’t you pet?” It was rhetorical, so she kept her mouth shut. “I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I got a peek at this ass. Did y’know that? It’s fucking gorgeous.” There was no hint of shame in his own tone, speaking as if he was in awe of her. “And here you are, spreading yourself open so I can see the puffy little cunt I just abused and that untouched hole. It’s an honor to be the first to have it.”

He was understating it a lot, at least for now. Satisfaction of being the only man to take her ass was something that fueled his ego tremendously, knowing he would be the single person who got to feel how tight and hot it could be around his prick. His hopes of Y/N deciding to choose him instead were his motivation, as unhealthy as it may be. “Here’s our options- and make no fuckin’ mistake, you’re only getting options because its the first time you’re getting fucked here.” In future scenes he would be deciding and she could color out, or talk to him if she didn’t like it. “We can put a plug in you. Let you sit there with it in, but you’ll have to lay with me for a while and let it stretch you more. Or,” He ran a finger over the little hole, smiling when she jolted again. “Daddy can open you up with fingers, place that vibrator you liked so much on your clit and take you when I feel you’re ready. That one may hurt a bit more going in but… you said you like a bit of pain, yeah?” 

The girl did. Pushing her ass back against his finger, she nodded heavily at the second option. “Second, please. Please I want..  I don’t want to wait a long time, Daddy.” 

“Hm… Do you really think you can handle it, Puppy?” He clicked his tongue, moving his finger away from her ass and down to her swollen clit. “I know you’re a bit of a whore, but you know m’not small. It’s not gonna be easy for that tiny hole to take. May have to force it in a little.” It was incredible to him how she reacted to his words so visibly, making it so fucking easy to read her. Maybe they were just in tune with one another, but the little inhale she made clued him in to just how much she liked that. 

“I can do it. I can, it’ll fit. I promise, I can be good and take it. I can take you cock anywhere, I want it so fucking bad, Daddy.” Her voice shook a little, surprising the dominant as he looked down at the body he was meant to ruin. Again, the surge of possessiveness rose to the surface of his skin and bubbled in his blood. Of course she could take it. Of course his little brat would be willing to do anything he wanted, because she was fucking made for him. 

“Alright, pet.” He feigned a resigned sigh. “Don’t disappoint me then. You’re gonna have t’make sure you can take it then.” Excitement was tingling the base of his spine, his cock fully hard again as he left her in her position to go and grab the toy. The Hitachi needed to be plugged into the outlet, which took a moment to do. 

“Daddy?” Her voice called to him, a bit apprehensive. His heart melted a little as he walked to her, toy in hand. 

“It’s alright, Puppy. Didn’t go anywhere too far. Had to get some supplies.” Laying them out beside her, he swatted her hands away from holding herself open. “You’re going to hold this on your pretty clit for me while I open you up. Do you think you can handle that? Or shall I go and get tape so I can keep it there?”

Shivers went up her spine as she imagined it, being forced to cum over and over again with the vibrations coursing through her body. For now, she thought she could handle it, but it was an increasingly enticing idea. “I can do it, Daddy. I’ll be good, I can handle it.”  Harry let out a noise of doubt that only made her huff. “I can! Why did you make that noise?”

A rough spank was laid right to the bottom of her thigh, making her yelp. “Don’t talk back. I asked a simple question, no need for the dramatics.” His voice was stern, a little mean, and she could feel her poor cunt throbbing at the demeanor he had. There had been something so utterly delicious, she had found out, about a man who could fuck like he hated you but worshipped you in all other aspects. He would cover her body in soft kisses and cooling lotion when they were done and hand feed her fruit, but right now it was seeing the other side of the coin.  “Now, I’m going to start. You ask before you cum, and if I tell you to take it away, you do as I say. Am I understood?” 

“Yes.” Y/N sulked, only to be spanked again. “Why?!” The exclamation made his own sigh even louder. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” Forgetting that had been an accident, but Y/N couldn’t lie and say his strict demeanor didn’t get her going. 

She was relatively calm though her excitement could be felt in her stomach. Her cunt had been fucked thoroughly in the dark hallway, an undeniable excitement lingering in her body when she remembered leaving with her lips swollen and cum dripping down her thigh. The man who thought he owned her had barely given her a second look, while the one who she looked to for comfort had his hand on the small of her back. It still astounded her how much trust she had put into Harry. How quickly they’d clicked, how he was so in tune with her body and her thoughts that sometimes he knew what she was feeling or thinking before she was even aware of it. 

“Fucking brat.” He muttered, placing the toy into her hands and letting her position it accordingly. “Be good for me, or you aren’t getting fucked.”

With that, the toy was switched on by his thumb at the lowest setting, and the fun began. 

Harry’s view was impeccable. It was always a beautiful thing to see a submissive bare themselves to you, but it was even better when that submissive was Y/N. She had already placed so much trust in him, already chosen him a plethora of times and proven her place. The cravings he’d had of her throughout the week had been almost debilitating. Half the time he was tempted to tell her to come over after work and say fuck it all to the weekend arrangement. Have her sit in his foyer with nothing on when he got home, or in his bed. 

Clicking open the cap of the cherry lubricant, he let a bit dribble down and over her hole. It had been something he’d been looking forward to since she had mentioned it to him, but now that he was getting to do it, that he was smearing his fingers to spread the lube over her while he felt the vibrations work through her body, the excitement only kept building. “This is pretty, y’know.” He mumbled. “Made to be fucked. Think all of your holes were. Makes sense that you’re such a filthy whore.” 

Y/N whimpered underneath him, rubbing her face into the duvet. He had considered tying her hair up so she couldn’t move her head, but that was something else he had to look forward to one day. There were so many options for them that his brain was constantly coming up with more plans, new debauchery to put her body through. His cock was scorching under his briefs, his pants tight, but he was far more focused on her. She was doing well so far, but he was waiting for a slip up. There wouldn’t be much grace given until his cock was buried in that tight little hole. 

“If you’d told me that the pretty girl who walked up all shy to be in that cafe would have her cunt dripping from being degraded while I prepared her ass to be fucked, I’d have been shocked. I imagine most people would. You come off as so sweet, demure… Such a good girl. But you’re nothing but a cock thirsty whore.” His hand pulled back to spank the round of her flesh, a mewl leaving her throat as she trembled slightly. “See? Have half a mind to record this. Maybe next time I will. Take a video of your pretty face while my cock splits your ass open, keep it bookmarked on my phone. So many things I want to do to you, my pet, and such little time in the day.” Clicking his tongue, he ran his finger over the pucker of her ass. It clenched around nothing, making him bite back a groan. She was completely and utterly exposed for him, at his mercy. Better yet, this is where she wanted to be. She chose this, came home with him after giving her boyfriend a metaphorical fuck you, and was now handing over her untouched hole with an eagerness he hadn’t seen in many people. 

“If it makes you happy, Daddy.” She said shakily, panting slightly. 

“Exactly. You’d do anything to make Daddy happy.” The dominant crooned, giving little warning as he pushed the tip of her finger into her ass. He could feel her start to shift her hips, so his opposite hand cracked over her hot skin again to cut it out. “Stop being fucking greedy. Barely got a quarter of a finger in there and you’re trying to fuck yourself on it. Pathetic.” 

Y/N apologized wearily, trying her best to keep still as his finger sunk in deeper. The toy’s vibrations against her clit had her feeling on edge already, but the intrusion in her ass was making her eyes water. “Sorry, I’m sorry but it feels good, Daddy. I want more.” 

Harry scoffed in amazement. This little thing had been having vanilla, missionary sex? She’d been subjected to holding back her true wants and for what? She should have always belonged to him. He knew what to do with her. Harry knew how to please her, how to work a body and a mind who craved this sort of stuff. “I know you do, Puppy. Want to thump your little leg and whine for more like a real pet, but you’re going to take whatever the fuck I give you, and you’re going to like it.” 

Of course, because of her begging, he let himself draw it out. 

Two minutes in she had warned she was going to cum, so he demanded she take the toy away for a minute before putting it back on, one setting higher. 5 minutes in and he added another finger, almost sending her into another orgasm. This time he had her hold the toy away for two minutes, repeating the cycle. Fucking the fingers into her tight channel, he could only imagine how good it was going to feel on his cock. 

“M’gonna add the third, and this time I think I’ll be generous and let you cum. You’ve been a good girl.” His voice softened up, putting his clean hand down and switching it to the next setting. “After that we’re going to try.” Harry was plenty aware of the fact that she had taken it like a champ. He’d even prepared her in the past when they spoke of it that he wouldn’t be upset if she needed more to work into it, but Y/N was definitely a go-getter. 

He watched carefully as he slowly worked the third finger in, watching her reactions. He’d been vigilant for her comfort, and while no one took fingers in the arse as a walk in the park the first time, she had done impressively well. Even with the ruined orgasms which he knew pissed her off immensely, she had been so fucking good and he couldn’t wait to reward her for it. “What’s your color, sweet girl?”

“Green- green, so green Daddy.” She slurred. “I’m so close. I-I’m gonna cum so soon.” This was the place he wanted to get her to, the slightly delirious pleasure filled state of mind that would make it all the more easy on her. The lax bodied ease in which she would be able to take his cock with less tenseness. 

“Go on, baby. Make a mess of yourself so you can take my cock in this pretty little hole.”

It seemed like his permission was enough to set her off. He felt her whole body shake, clenching around his fingers with her walls as she let out a wail he hadn’t heard from her before. Thighs trembling, hand accidentally losing grip of the toy and fingers tensing in the air as she backed into his fingers before trying to get away. His unoccupied hand gripped her hip and kept her in place, praising her as his fingers didn’t stop. In and out, he massaged and stretched her open as the orgasm rattled her bones. 

“That’s my best girl. Knew you could do it, little thing.” He cooed, soothing her skin as she stopped trying to escape the feeling. “Poor pussy, s’a lot hm? Daddy made you wait a little bit to cum, but it was worth it.” 

Y/N nodded into the soft fabric, not yet able to find her voice. This time he didn’t scold her, knowing it probably was intense from the mixture of new sensations and edging with quite a powerful toy. Instead he let her work through it, waiting for her to give him a sign. “Puppy? Alright?” 

“M’amazing.” She giggled, slapping her hand around to find the vibrator. “Can I turn it off, please?”

“Course. Go on, pet. It’s just about time for the real fun to start.”

—-

Y/N was boneless under him, tensing only when he slowly pulled fingers out to dribble some more lubricant over her hole. “Need to get it nice n’wet, my pet.” He was careful to describe what he was doing now that they were getting closer to the real thing. “M’gonna get my cock nice and slick too, make it easier to slide in. You’re a snug little thing, need to make sure we get you as comfortable as possible. 

She had no doubt in her mind that he would do that. Harry had never failed in taking care of her, always making sure she had what she needed. Maybe with quite literally anyone else she would be shaking with nervous, but with him it was only a tiny tremor in her hands. His unlubed fingers had stroked her hair away from her face and made her look at him, promising she was okay to continue before he had gotten to this point. His clothes off, his body heat radiating from behind her. “Okay, Daddy.” 

This mindset was newer to her. Everything felt a little fuzzy and a bit like slow motion but she didn’t feel scared. It was comforting. His voice was deep and calm, at least for now, brushing over her skin like a feather. If she could, she would arch into his words like a cat looking for a pet from it’s owner. Perhaps that was because that’s sort of what she felt like. 

“See? When you listen to instructions and don’t act like a brat, you’re so sweet.” He praised. “I’m gonna be a bit meaner to you, but it’s okay because my slutty little puppy quite likes it, I reckon.” 

She did. She did, she did, she did. She liked how pretty his voice was when he degraded her and acted like she was just a hole for him to unload his cum into. If that was what he wanted her to be, she would happily take it all like the overly eager puppy she turned him into. Something about the man and his demeanor, both as a dominant and a man in general, had her wanting to roll over and submit. There were stark differences between how Dom Harry and Regular Harry treated her, but they fell into the most delicious melting pot that she wanted to submerge her whole body in. “I like anything you do to me, Daddy.” She responded like the perfect little pet she was. 

Harry cooed at her, leaning over her body and placing a kiss on her shoulder. “I know. It’s what makes us so fun, isn’t it? I want to do nasty, dirty, horrible things to you… and you want to let me.” 

Y/N keened as she felt the tip of his cock slap a few times over her hole, eyes fluttering shut. It had been a long time in the making, and she wanted to feel him inside of her. In a place no one else had been before. It would be his, in her mind.

“You tell me if it’s too much. Color if you need to. Do you understand me?” 

Y/N nodded, humming to him, but that wasn’t good enough. A tap to her hip made her eyes peel back open to look at him, his eyes narrowed on her. “Words, Y/N. Tell me you understand how to use your colors and you feel safe.” Oooo, the government name.  If this wasn't the first time they were doing this he likely wouldn’t be so heavy on the double and triple checking, but it was a lot for her to take. He was a lot for her to take. 

“I understand, Daddy. I know I’m safe and I know how to use my colors. Please, fuck me now.” 

Harry gave her a warning glare before he exhaled through his nose, muttering about ‘where his good girl had gone’, but took it for now. They were both keyed up and ready to finally do this, and he couldn’t help that. 

It was cool in the room, but she felt hot all over, particularly under the skin, as his cock rubbed over the well lubed hole. 

Her brain’s fuzzy feeling returned as she felt the first bit begin to push in. It wasn’t entirely pleasant, as she knew it probably wouldn’t be, but she wasn’t about to tap out. Taking quick breaths, she was reminded by the dominant to change that. “Deep, slow breaths. You’ll hyperventilate if you keep doing that.” He murmured, rubbing small circles into her hip. 

His eyes were zoned in on the side of her face as he watched her grip the duvet in front of her. Ever so attentive, she knew he would stop if she asked but there was no point in asking that. Even when it hurt a bit, like he was stretching her so far out that she’d split, she didn’t do anything but curl her fingers and toes, making herself breathe through it. Harry was soft with his words, gentle with his touches as she let him sink into her slowly. 

There was no rushing this. Her body felt like molasses the longer he was inside of her,  not bothering to ask how much more was left. She’d done her research before she ever met Harry but even more after the fact about how to get through it. Deep breaths, good prep, communication. All three things she had actively gotten from him. It was now a journey of waiting for her body to stretch and accept. 

“I’m okay.” She whispered, reaching her hand back to his on her hip. “I feel okay. You can keep going.” He had little bits where he would wait a few moments before continuing to push in, but she wanted it over with. It was starting to become more pleasurable as her body adjusted and he was being cautious with her, but she could take it. 

“Okay.” He agreed, flipping over his hand and letting her hold it. 

Harry was trying his best not to take her out of the moment, or to cum himself. It felt stupidly good, the wet heat engulfing him and clenching around as she tried to adjust to the feeling. Was she truly tighter than anyone else he had, or was he just far more attached to her than the rest? It was something he’d need to unpack later while she was asleep in his bed and he could be creepy and look over her, but at the current moment he couldn’t recall another time where he had felt this good being inside of someone else. “M’gonna grind into you a bit, okay?” He warned her, slowly rocking his hips and hearing her gasp at the small movements. 

God, it felt so good. Like a damn vice, her hole gripping him tight as her nails dug into the back of his hand. For a second he was going to ask if she needed a moment, but the broken moan that left her swollen lips clued him into it. It was the complete opposite. “Oh, Puppy… You like how that feels?” 

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, spreading her legs a bit more. “I’m so f-full.” 

The way she said it was going to be ingrained in his wank bank forever. Whiny and shivery, but full of pleasure. Like she couldn’t believe how well she was filled. “You are. Nice n’snug inside this perfect hole. Think I was right about you being made to be fucked. Though… I think it’s mainly by me, yeah? Pretty holes made to be filled by me, cause I fill ‘em so perfectly.” 

“Yeah, Daddy.” She mewled, arching slightly as he pushed in a bit further. “It’s so perfect and I l-love it. It hurts but it feels so good n’I wanna do it again.” 

“Haven’t even finished this one and you’re already planning our next fuck… Really are Daddy’s girl. Addicted to my cock inside of you, jus’ like I’m obsessed with filling you.” She didn’t know just how true those words rang out now. How he had poured over the fact that he liked her far more than he should for an arrangement like this, how he had been so desperate for her that he’d broken his rule -which he never does as a dominant- and made her cum in the bathroom during their lunch because he had wanted to make her feel good so badly that it made him feel borderline insane. 

“I am. I’m Daddy’s girl.” She babbled, pushing back into him. “I can take more. You can- you can fuck me. I can take it, I promise. Green.” The urging made him chuckle to himself because fuck, could she get any more perfect?  Make it any more obvious that she was completely and utterly made for him, saying all the shit he had been hoping she would? 

For once, the dominant couldn’t tell his submissive no. 

He was slow about it at first, listening to her mewl. Filling her up and pulling out shallowly, letting her adjust to the action. The man relished in the feeling of her stretching and clinging to him, greedily trying to keep him inside of her.  It became increasingly hard to keep his composure, but the good news was that Y/N didn’t want him to. 

The slow crescendo gained momentum, the hand she was holding falling down as she tried to move herself onto her hands. While he had been trying to keep it slower for her, it seemed his submissive craved more- fucking herself back onto him with the sweetest whines being punched out of her as she did so. The gall, the audacity of the girl had him laughing under his breath- but he wasn’t going to let it go.

His hand gripped her hair, swiftly pulling it around his fist like a leash and pulling her up onto her knees. “If you want more, you’ll take it like this.” It was reminiscent of their other time he loved to look back on, but his prick was filling a different hole. Teeth descended onto her neck as he picked up the pace, biting down as she squealed his honorific into the air. “Oh, what? Is it too deep? Too much? You want to get greedy and now it’s too much for that slutty hole?” He cooed, the condescending tone making her shiver. “That’s too fucking bad then. You know what to say to get me to stop.” Unless she uttered that word, he knew she could take it. 

Y/N felt lightheaded in the best way. This new sort of pleasure had her dripping all over her thighs, her clit pulsing between her legs as he fucked into her ass. Pounded it, really, in a way she had only dreamed about. Pinpricks on her scalp from the grip on her hair, involuntary noises being punched out of her lungs from the pressure, she was feeling her eyes lull with each thrust. It was only with him, she didn’t have to think about anything but how good she felt. How to please him, how to piss him off, how he would make her cum. The most primal of urges being met, all the while he was focused on her. There was no thought of work infiltrating his brain, or sports, or the distraction of texts or pulling out mid stroke for a phone call- no. In their intimate moments, Harry was just as tuned into her as she was, him. 

“You fuck me so good.” Somewhere along the line, those thoughts had her tearing up. This was the first partner in which she had felt the reciprocated want, the attention she felt she deserved being laid down onto her. Her eyes stung but there was no way to stop it as the tears began to dribble down her cheeks. Something like an emotional release starting as the physical pleasure began to bubble up in her stomach, his hand winding around to the front to circle her slippery clit. “Don’t stop, Daddy. Don’t stop, please don’t ever stop fucking me.” 

The words probably held more weight than she realized, her shuddering voice making him groan into her neck. “As long as you want me, I’ll keep going.” His voice was deep with the pleasure, hoarse as he promised her he wouldn’t stop. “You feel so good, baby. I’ll give you whatever you need. Don’t ever worry.” turning her head, his tongue licked over the salty tear that had fallen down her cheek. “Your holes are mine, aren’t they? Every single one. No one else’s. Only for Daddy to fuck. Took this ass n’now it’s mine.” He himself was losing it a bit at her declaration, finding himself close. “My perfect slut.”

The intensity was high but neither of them wanted to stop. Unspoken words thick in the air as the pleasure filled both of their bodies, leading them towards their ends sooner than they’d want. It was when his fingers filled her pussy and his the heel of his palm smacked against her clit as he fucked her in both holes that she new she couldn’t stop her upcoming orgasm. 

“Yeah- uh-huh, just use me. I’ll be good, I’ll be so, so good for you Daddy. They’re yours, I’m yours. I’m yours, I promise- Oh, fuck.” She sobbed, feeling his fingers quicken on her clit. “I need to cum. I need to cum, Please, please let me. You can keep fucking me, Jus’ let me cum. I’m so good, I’m your good little slut.”

“Y-yeah.” His mouth fell open and the moan was loud and slightly shaky.  “Cum for me. Cum for me, pretty fucking girl, I’m gonna cum in you. Let go, It’s okay- Give it t’me. Give it.” He demanded, his mouth shadowing her own as they inhaled each other’s pants. They were glistening and sticky with sweat, sloppy on the thighs, lips swollen and marked up in the most animalistic way and they’d never been more in tune with their bodies- or each other. 

Y/N couldn’t stop herself as she got permission, his pulsing fingers getting one specific spot inside of her and his cock filling her ass over and over again sending her over the edge. White flashed her vision as she shuddered in his arms, a unfamiliar scream leaving her throat. Gushing around his fingers, she squirted a little stream of liquid down his hand. Both holes clenching, her body unsure if she should push herself closer or pull away, she sobbed out his name. “Harry- Harry, oh my fuck-” 

The combination of many things had led to his own orgasm, but it was particularly his real name that had him pushed to his limits. His own pathetic moan of hers followed, pulling her mouth to his own as he kissed her messily. Each pulse of his balls added another stream of cum inside of her, thighs twitching as he felt some of his strength draining along with his cock. He was in slight disbelief how intense he felt it, his toes feeling damn near numb as he tried to snap back into caretaker mode as he unwound his hand from her hair and slowly leaned her down to lay on the bed. 

“Oh, baby…” He whispered, peppering kisses to her cheeks. “Fuck, sweet girl… what the fuck are you doin’ to me?” A laugh of disbelief left his swollen lips, nudging his nose against hers. Y/N let out a weak noise of acknowledgement, melting right into the bed as he laid on top of her. Doing his best to keep his weight from squishing her, he tried to gain some composure with deep breathing. He’d fallen into a different headspace there, and it had been quite a while since he had done it. Forever, really, for that certain brand of it. It wasn’t just a dominant headspace, but one that felt something for the girl he was inside of. More than what was allowed. At this point though, he didn’t particularly care about the logistics of it. 

There was no way he wasn’t going to make this girl his. Ethics be damned. 

“Angel? Y’alright?” He whispered, getting a grunt from her. “Yeah? I’m gonna have to pull out in a few seconds so I can get the stuff to take care of you. I’ll be slow, and come right back.” It wasn’t like he wanted to go anywhere from her, If he had it his way he’d be inside of her 24/7. But he needed to take proper care of his girl, and aftercare was something he simply wouldn’t skip. 

“No.” She whimpered. “Don’t want you t’go.” The words were muffled together, like her lips weren't working that well, and it made the man smile. She was well and truly fucked out. This time, though, it was mutual. 

“I have to, sweetheart. Don’t want you laying in all this filth. Sticky, aren’t you?” He knew he was. It was worse for her, considering she had been double stuffed with his cum today. Internally, he was very happy about that.

“A little.” She huffed, turning her head and eyeing him. “I don’t wanna move. I don’t think I’ve got bones, Daddy.” The whisper made him smile, knowing that she was still in that space. He’d work her out of it, make sure she was all clean and boneless while feeling safe. 

“You’ve got bones, love. Daddy jus’ fucked you pretty good.” He smoothed the sweaty strands of hair from her face. “Do you need something before I go n’grab the stuff to make you feel like you’ve got bones again?” 

Her face turned a little more, lips puckering out. “Kissy, please.” 

When he’d look back at it later, he would pinpoint that as the moment all the defenses around his heart broke. There was no more denying it. She had him. Hook, line and sinker.  

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles dom #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #the favor

[dark-frosted-heart]

He Doesn’t Know That I Turned into an Animal Bonus Story

This is the bonus story involving everyone. It's utterly ridiculous

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. None of my translations are proofread until a day after posting

Victor: This is an emergencyyyy!! Come to the dining hall at once!!

When I woke up this morning and started getting ready, I heard Victor’s voice echoing through the castle.

Kate: What’s the matter Victor?! Did you make Jude mad and end up in debt?! Or did Liam and Alfons play a prank……huh?

What I saw when I came down to the dining hall made me gasp.

Beside Victor were 8 animals.

(4 cats, 3 dogs…And a fox?)

Kate: Victor, where did you find them? I think taking care of all of them will be pretty hard…

Victor: I didn’t find them from anywhere! Everyone in Crown’s become an animal!

Kate: ……Excuse me?

Victor: Last night after you went back to your room, we were all drinking when… Roger and Alfons started arguing over the most trivial things.

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: *sigh* …We’re not getting anywhere like this. Let’s settle this.

Alfons: I see, with drinks? It’s just what I was hoping for.

In the beginning, it was only Roger and Alfons competing, then gradually, the others joined in…

Roger: Hm? There’s no more drinks? I guess I’ll go get more.

Alfons: Oh, what’s this? Are you running away?

Roger: Why would I run when I’m winning? Or do you want me to run?

Liam: Okay, how about you two calm down? I’ll go fetch some instead!

Roger: Thanks Liam. Can you fetch the green bottle in my room?

Liam: Gotcha~

~~ Flashback end ~~

Victor: …After that, everyone except me drank the special alcohol Liam brought back.

Kate: You didn’t drink?

Victor: I had some work left so I couldn’t. So I just had a spot of tea when I joined them.

Kate: So you’re saying that…everyone became an animal because of the alcohol they drank?

Victor: Yes. The special alcohol Liam brought was…here it is!

Victor picked up an empty bottle from the dining table.

It was green like Roger had said, but there was a small label on it.

Kate: “Animalization. Caution: Do not drink” …Is what it says.

Victor: So it wasn’t alcohol that Liam brought, but one of Roger’s experiments!

Kate: No way…!

Victor: The bottle’s the same color as the one Roger asked Liam to get. Since Liam was drunk, he mixed them up.

—At that moment, one of the cats went to hide under the table.

(Was that Liam just now? It looked like he was hiding, but…)

(I don’t think he actually mixed them up. Rather, did he do it on purpose to satisfy his curiosity…?)

Victor: The rest of us didn’t check the label either… They all went to sleep thinking we drank alcohol instead of a drug. I gave them blankets and left. And then when I came down to the dining hall this morning… There they were, looking so cute sleeping under the blankets!

(Well bringing in all these animals would be too much for a prank…)

(So everyone really did become an animal…?)

Kate: If the drug’s one of Roger’s experiments, then there might be some clues in the infirmary.

Victor: You’re right. I’ll go look. In the meantime, can you look after everyone? I really wish I could, but…

Victor took a step closer to the animals…and they scattered like little spiders.

Victor: …Animals have always avoided me. They’re scared of me for some reason. So…I’m entrusting their safety to you. Can you do that for me?

Kate: Got it! I’ll take care of them!

Victor: Thanks, Kate…I’m really glad you’re here.

After Victor left the dining hall, I rolled up my sleeves and pumped myself up.

(Alright…First of all, I need to know who’s who. That’ll make taking care of them easier!)

While thinking up of a plan, I crouched in front of the most obvious one.

Kate: You’re Harrison, right?

Harrison (fox): ……Hm?

Kate: No, there’s no point in making that “who knows” kind of face. If you say “fox”, then it has to be Harrison!

Harrison (fox): …

For some reason, Harrison the fox looked sad.

(Normally Harrison’s lying while looking all aloof, but…)

(...He can’t do that when he’s like this. I’ll need to get him back to normal quickly)

(Next is…)

Kate: Hey, you can’t smoke as a dog!

A white dog with black spots held a cigarette with his front paw and deftly tried to light it.

I rushed over, snatched the cigarette away, and hid it in my pocket.

Kate: With those colors and the cigarette…You’re probably Jude, right? Alright, I’m pocketing them.

Jude (dog): Grrr…

Kate: Um…you sound intimidating, but you look really cute right now.

As a human, Jude would always talk down to me, but he can’t do that the way he is now.

Even while growling at me, he had a dog’s cuteness…I wanted to pet his head.

Kate: There, there…

Jude: WOOF!

Kate: …Woah!

When I tried to pet him, Jude almost bit me.

(Even as a dog, Jude’s still Jude, ruthless as ever…)

Kate: O-okay. I won’t touch you…don’t smoke and just sit tight, okay? I’m sure Victor will find a way to get you all back to normal…

Jude (dog): …

Jude sniffed in displeasure and turned his attention to the clock on the wall.

Kate: “Hurry up” huh? Understood.

(Now then…The only one who’d be near Jude is Ellis, but I don’t see him)

Kate: It really hurt my feelings when Jude almost bit me… If only an animal would let me pet him right now. It’d heal my broken heart and make me really happy!

Jude (dog): …

Jude understood what I was trying to do and looked at me as if he wanted to say something.

(He’s thinking I’m using him…but right now, I can’t even be bothered!)

Kate: Aahhhh! I want to pet someone!

I didn’t know if Ellis would fall for it, but I had to give it a try.

—In that moment.

Kate: Eek!

All of a sudden a black cat jumped into my arms.

Kate: Are you perhaps Ellis…?

Ellis (cat): Meow.

The cat that looked like Ellis replied while rubbing his forehead against my hand.

It’s like he was telling me to pet him.

Kate: Hehe, thank you.

I gratefully petted Ellis’ small head and neck. The way he purred was so cute.

Ellis (cat): …Meow, meow?

(Ah…I think I understood what you just said)

Kate: Did you ask if I’m happy right now? Yes…I’m feeling a little happier!

(Next…)

I looked under the table and spoke to the cat hiding under it.

Kate: You tried to hide from Victor and me while we were talking, so…Are you Liam?

Liam (cat): Meow!

Kate: I need to know…Did you mix up the alcohol and drug on purpose?

Liam (cat): Meow, meow?

As expected from Liam. Even as a cat, he knows how to present himself and meows in a cute and charming way.

He was so cute that I wanted to smoosh his face with mine, but…his eyes were looking from side to side.

Kate: So you did do it on purpose…When you all turn back to human, make sure everyone gives you a scolding, okay?

Liam (cat): Meow…

(Everyone’s going to be mad at Liam while he looks down dejectedly, but…I’m sure everyone will forgive him in the end)

(Because Liam’s someone you just can’t hate)

Kate: In the meantime, please sit tight until everyone’s back to normal.

Liam (cat): Meow…

Kate: Can you keep an eye on Liam, Harrison?

Harrison (fox): Hm…

Though Harrison looked dissatisfied, he stuck by Liam’s side.

(I guess I can rest easy on that. The rest…huh?)

Looking around the dining hall, I noticed that some of the animals were missing.

(Roger, Elbert, Alfons, William…no, those four are missing!)

(Right, they just happened to be in the dining hall…there’s no way everyone in Crown would stay put!)

(I wonder where they went…)

Victor: Kate!

Kate: Victor! Did you find anything?

Victor: Yes. I know how to turn everyone back to normal. By the way, why are you here?

Kate: To tell you the truth, four people…er, animals, have gone missing from the dining hall…

Victor: Haha, my beloved cursed boys are free to be animals, aren’t they?

Kate: It’s really annoying…

Victor: Alright, let’s look for them together.

Kate: Okay!

(I’m glad that Victor’s still human)

(I think it would’ve been really hard to do this by myself…)

We checked the foyer first to rule out the possibility that they left the castle.

Victor: A nearby maid informed me that she didn’t see any dogs or cats walk out the front door.

Kate: That’s a relief! That means they’re definitely still in the castle.

Victor: Right. …By the way, what’s going on over there?

Following Victor’s gaze, I saw some mades gathered in a corner of the foyer.

Kate: That’s suspicious…Let’s ask.

When we approached the maids, we saw them surrounding a dog.

Kate: Ah, that dog…!

Victor: Yes…there’s no doubt about it. It’s Elbert!

He had silky golden fur and distressed eyes.

Even as a dog, Lord Elbert was beautiful. Adding on the charm of a dog, no one could leave him alone.

The maids were all captivated by his charms and handled him like something delicate.

(For now, I’m glad you’re safe…)

Victor immediately used sign language to explain the situation to the maids and succeeded in retrieving Lord Elbert.

Elbert (dog): Awoo…?

(Oooo, so cute…! I’d do anything for you!)

Bringing Lord Elbert along, we decided to search the halls next.

Kate: Wha-what is this…?!

The moment I turned the corner, I was shocked by a devastating scene in the hallway.

There were several cats lying around.

Kate: What in the world…are they okay?!

I rushed over and crouched down beside the cats to check on them.

(Huh? It doesn’t look like they’re hurt.)

(Writhing around in pleasure…Is this)

Victor: Mlem…There’s no doubt about it! It’s catnip!

Kate: Catnip’s…the herb that intoxicates cats, right?

Victor: Yes. It looks like someone gave the cats catnip and threw a drug party.

Kate: That’s…

Victor: No doubt we’re thinking about the same person. Let’s hurry!

We followed the trail of catnip-drunk cats to Alfons’ room.

Kate: Alfons! Please stop spreading catnip around!

When I burst into the room, the cat lying on the bed got up and looked at me languidly.

Victor: You’ve been enjoying your time as a cat, haven’t you Alfons?

Alfons (cat): Meow-ha!

Alfons laughed loudly like he did as a human and let himself get caught.

Alfons (cat): Now that just leaves Roger and William.

Kate: Where would those two be…We’ve searched everywhere we could think of.

Victor: Maybe they’re constantly moving about, or we’re always just missing each other. But I believe finding Roger’s easier than you think.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: Watch.

Victor smiled proudly and cupped his hands around his mouth.

Victor: Ah?! There’s a high-quality beer here from Her Majesty the Queen herself?! I can drink it without anyone noticing. What should I do?

(No matter how much Roger likes alcohol, there’s no way he’d fall for something so obvious…)

Just as I was thinking that, I heard light steps running toward us.

Roger (dog): Arf!

A dog with light brown fur appeared, wagging his large tail.

(...I can’t believe he fell for it)

Roger’s once again proved his hardcore love for alcohol.

After catching the three, we had them wait in the dining hall…William was the only one left.

Victor: To think that he’d be the last one for us to find…That’s William for you!

Kate: You’re right. I wonder where he went…

Victor: Hmm, shall I prepare some strawberries?

Kate: I don’t think that trick will work as well as it did with Roger…but it might be worth a try.

At that moment, a beautiful tune came into the hallway.

Kate: Victor, that’s the sound of a piano…!

Victor: Yes!

We nodded at each other and ran to the great hall.

Kate: William! Did you become human again— —Nevermind?

There was a “cat” on the piano deftly playing Minute Waltz with his front and back paws.

Kate: But it sounded a lot like William’s piano playing…

Victor: …You’re right. He’s the only one that can produce such a sound.

And then Victor and I listened to the cat play.

The final note melted into the air…We applauded the wonderful performance.

Kate: Are you…William?

William (cat): Meow.

William gracefully got off the piano and walked over to us.

Kate: …Even as animals, all of Crown’s kept their “identity” didn’t they?

Victor: You can’t hide your personality even if you want to!

--

Victor: Now that everyone’s back, I have an announcement…dalalalalala dan! According to Roger’s research, the only way to turn back is with a kiss!

Kate: K-kiss…? That kind of solution only exists in fairy tales…

Victor chuckled at my confusion and gently touched my lips with a finger.

Victor: We’re cursed here so there’s nothing strange about it.

Kate: That’s true…

Victor: Well now! It’s not something difficult, so let’s do it quickly.

(I wouldn’t be able to kiss them if they were human, but…)

(...I can probably do it with everyone as animals)

I looked at each Crown member that became an animal and prepared myself.

Kate: Got it. I— 

Victor: Now everyone, line up! I’ll give all of you a kiss with love!

Kate: Huh.

What happened after with Victor was amazing.

No animal was spared as he caught each and every one that tried to run away, and passionately kissed them…

They then all turned back into humans without an issue.

…For everyone’s sake, I’ll leave out some of the details.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil jp #ikevil translations

[sugoi-writes]

Can I get some fluff of Alastor finding reader listening to old jazz songs from when he was alive and he makes us dance with him? :)

It's Been a While... (Alastor x GN! Reader)

Ahaha, I need more work on fluff, I hope you like it! There is SOME mentions of risque activites, but it's super brief, and nothing insanely explicit! Promise! I was honestly just writing to write, and figured this little blurb that fell out of me would be fitting enough. UNO REVERSE... We get ALASTOR to dance! Fuck yes!!!

Songs mentioned: In The Mood - Glenn Miller / Sing, Sing, Sing - Benny Goodman (both are bops I used to play when I was in jazz band houhosjknskhdj-- SURPRISE, you also get Danny Lore as a treato!)

Alastor's tense, heavy sigh sounds in the air, prompting you to crane your head up. You took in his disheveled state and instantly knew: he was exhausted. You stood from your plush armchair, abandoning it to walk toward his desk. 

"Alastor?" was all that was needed for his flattened ears to perk up. Your sweet voice was a much needed comfort during a particularly grueling evening. 

"Yes, dearest?" he replied, his smile hardly an upturned slit. You come up behind him slowly, waiting for his permission to touch. Alastor looks back to your hovering hands, and nods gingerly. He returns to facing his desk, allowing his eyes to lose focus as he zones out. When your arms wrap around his neck, his shoulders slump heavily, a pleased hum vibrating his chest. You smiled sweetly at the sound, a welcome pleasantry as you kissed his cheek. 

"You're getting frustrated again, my love..." you pipe up, continuing to pepper his cheek with chaste, innocent kisses. Your lover laughs bitterly, but leans into your musings all the same. 

"Well, I suppose you're right... leave it to my sweet, observant partner to know what's wrong... and when," he adds, a tired hand reaching up to rub slow circles into one of your arms. You grin against his cheek, your kisses slowing," I may also have a solution to your problem, if you'll hear me out~" 

Alastor hums in approval, grasping both of your hands when you continue to pamper him with sweet, physical adoration. 

"Dear, you are nothing if not full of brilliant ideas... I would love to hear them out," he muses, turning his head to plant a singular, sincere kiss to your lips. You were giddy at the affection, but capped your glee.  You tugged on his hands, eager to make your little plan work.

"Come on, come on... you'll have to get up for this one," you quip, forcing a dramatic sigh from your partner. Alastor throws his head back, laying it on your shoulder like an ill peasant woman. He would fan his face weakly, had your hands not been so warm.  

"My love, I have been stricken, and cannot get up~ Won't you let an old man rest?" he fired back. But truly, had you asked: he would happily jump into acid rain with nothing more than his dignity.

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, smirking," You? Old? I wouldn't figure... No, you old geezer, I need you to stand so we can use your legs. They're very important for what I want to do." Alastor blinked, gears turning in his mind. Only with you would his mind wander to dirtier, carnal ideas. 

"Dear, if I had wanted to do that tonight, I'm afraid your back would've already been bent out of shape--" 

"Oh for Fucks Sake, Alastor--" you cackled, tugging on him with more insistence. 

" Come oooonnnnn, please~? It's one of your favorites, I promise! Nothing dirty, no tricks!" Alastor's interest is instantly piqued, resulting in an immediate hop up. Even with his motion, his hands were still in yours. You huff, exacerbated but grateful you didn’t have to lift him yourself. 

"Ahh, if you would have led with that, I may've been more urgent to attend to you, dear," Alastor chuckles, not missing the flush that flashed across your cheeks. You pull away from Alastor long enough to turn on the radio, flicking through several frequencies and stations to find just the right channel. Alastor watches you in amusement, arms crossing in front of his chest. He was more than content to watch you struggle, shifting his weight onto one foot.

"Well, I have to keep some of the suspense, don't I?" you replied, grinning at him in a way that made Alastor's black heart beat wildly. He did quite enjoy your mischievous nature... But your attempts to work his radio almost had him pitying you... Almost. 

He scooted in behind you, resting his crossed arms over the top of your head," You could request a song, you know... I don't mind putting on something you enjoy--" 

"I'd rather it be something we’d both enjoy," you interject, huffing as you became an armrest for your demonic partner. Once you found the right channel, you swiveled under Alastor's arms to face him. Then, you reach up to hold his elbows, shaking them around playfully. 

"Alright, sir... It's been a long, long time since we've done this... I want to do this properly." 

Alastor relents, allowing you to push his arms off of your head. He tilts his own toward you, expressing confusion. In that moment, he finally hones in on the song itself. In The Mood, popularized and recorded by Glenn Miller. It was one of the few songs that came to mind when you thought of "Alastor's Time" in the 30s. Said demon blinks in surprise, grinning. He had listened to this recording a bit after coming to hell, and was particularly fond of it. Ahh, you had picked the perfect station! 

"Glenn Miller? Oh, you spoil me, love," Alastor coos, caressing your face as he kisses your forehead," Whatever did I do to deserve this?" 

You sway your hips, bouncing in place to the tempo with the old tune," I know the recording's after your time... but-- He's just-- GOOD, y'know?" You bite your lip as you pull Alastor's hands off of your face," Now come on, Al... let's dance!" What a perfect distraction to break his tension and troubled mind! Alastor just knew he would enjoy your little idea... 

His hands settle on you, both lightly caging your hips as yours held onto his wide shoulders. As the main motif began, the both of you started bopping along to the music. You watched Alastor's face morph fully into a relaxed state; smile still present, but much softer than his manic glee. You had to use every fiber in your being not to kiss him in that instant, instead squeezing his shoulders. Alastor's ears twitch as you draw soothing circles into his tense muscles, a shudder being torn from his entire frame. 

"Relax, Alastor... I want you to forget about everything, except for this...," you coo, making him sigh with acceptance. He came close to you, flushing your bodies together in a tight, intimate sway. You could only sigh as he settled his chin onto the top of your head. 

"Oh darling, if I relaxed anymore, I would be putty in your hands...," Alastor chimes, the tail end of his sentence wandering off as you press harder. Alastor huffs pleasantly, his hands holding your hips more firmly," Sweetheart, you really will be my undoing..." 

You chuckle as you settle your hands, allowing Alastor a moment of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders, one hand seeking to grasp your opposite hand. Once he drew your arm out with his, his other hand shifted to the small of your back. You saw him grinning, playful and energetic," If it's a dance you want, then it had better be a good one, hmm? So let's jive~" 

You squealed as Alastor practically whisked you off of your feet, spinning the both of you elegantly around his bedroom. The sounds of cicadas and frogs croaking in the distant, swampy marsh of his extended bedroom accompanied the sweet jazz that filled the air. Truly, it was tying everything together seamlessly. You had it all: a nice scene, nice music, and a relaxed, precious beau to spend all night with. You would have patted yourself on the back, were it not for Alastor's telltale sign of a 'big dip' move. You looped both arms around his neck, hanging on as Alastor swung you down, his monocle threatening to slip off his face. You laughed as you casually adjusted it. You stared, enthralled as you lay your hand over his racing pulse. However, the moment didn’t last long before you were brought back to your feet. But you thought now would be the best time to be a bit closer…

Getting bolder now, you pulled Alastor in for a kiss via his bowtie, eager to finish the dance off strong. Alastor, of course, had no protests, as he looped his arms around your waist. The two of you embraced like this for what felt like an hour, unable to pull apart your mingling, eager lips. But, with the song ended, leaving you both in silence, you managed to pull away. You looked up to Alastor with knowing eyes, your smile reflected in his deep, red irises.

"I loved that, Alastor, thank you... And I hope you don't mind me whisking you away from work..." 

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes, an imitation of your look from earlier. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, his lips still puffy from your kiss," My love, you must whisk me away more often... In fact, I think I'd like another dance, if you'll join me?" Of course, you agreed silently, stepping on to the very tips of your toes to seal it with a kiss. 

"I'd love nothing more." 

Alastor grins with a deep chuckle, the radio pumping out a new song. Sing, Sing, Sing, popularized by Benny Goodman. You blink in surprise as this number moves... MUCH faster. And, from the sound of it, it will get you to sweat. You laughed nervously as Alastor brought you in again, his hand directing your hips to sway with his. You couldn’t help but become a little flustered as he closed the gap between your bodies, a playful, coy smile sent your way. 

"Hold on tight, love. Some recordings of this song could last up to ten minutes~" 

"WHAT--" 

Alastor practically cackled as you trapped yourself within a saucy dance, one of many that would fill your evening with sweat, laughter, and best of all: an Alastor whose smile finally reached his eyes. 

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x oc #gn! reader #as an enby I feel like I did a much better job being ambiguous here #fluff #alastor fluff #alastor imagines #alastor fanfic #Im so rusty what are tags ahahaha #I also had no idea if GN! Reader was OKAAAAAAY but I hope so! #sorry I take so damn long these days gduohssishgkhsj #hugs and kisses dearie

[ryomens-vixen]

Yandere Toji Headcanons

CW: Yandere shit. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Word Count: bitch idk I was just typing 💀

Author's note: Honestly I don't know where this came from I just sat here and realized on don't feed y'all enough so here you go.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to show up to your job demanding that you put that pussy on him one more time and he'll "leave you alone".

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to find out you're on a date- and come crash it. Immediately. I'm talking about he's showing the fuck out embarrassing you, trying to beat upp your date.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to be outside your house dry humping the front door and begging for you to let him in because he "just wanna talk".

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to call you from a payphone just to be panting on the other end, then hang up.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to get fed up with you playing are to get and rejecting him- so much that he's willing to risk you calling the police on him for breaking into your house.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to hold you hostage in your own home until you give him another chance at a relationship with you

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to choke his dick with a pair of your unwashed panties and jerk in with them just so he can have to scent on your pussy on his thick, meaty cock.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to put his nut in your shampoo bottle so you can have a piece of him with you whenever he's not around.

Yandere Toji would definitely make you eat his ass if given the opportunity too.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to beat his meat to the memory of your voice... And he cums a lot.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to eat your pussy while your sleeping because he was craving a "late night snack"

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to show up to your job, dick in hand, hearts in eyes and be begging you to let him rip that pencil skirt and stockings apart because in his words it's keeping him from HIS pussy.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to make you cockwarm him during your online meetings... He says it makes him feel closer to you.

Speaking of cockwarming Yandere Toji the type of ngga to make you cockwarm him while your two sleep and not with your pussy- but with dat ass he loves how tight and snug it feels it's like your suffocating his cock and he loves it.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to blow smoke up your coochie so "she" can get high with him.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to tell you that you don't deserve his nut after hurting him so much- then proceeds to nut in you anyways.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to get your car towed just so you can't go to work, you wants to keep you on his dick 25/8 and how the fuck can he do that if you're at work?

Yandere Toji the type of ngga act "nice" in front of your parents, but sluts you out in their own house. Making you choke and gag on his dick the whole time you're there.

Yandere Toji the type of ngga to off anyone you try to get with after him because you and him are soulmates, body, soul and mind... Especially body, nobody's dick will ever be better than his and you know it.

Yandere Toji breaks ALL the condoms at this point there is no use in buying any with how rough he is with you. It's almost like he's hate fucking you every time y'all have sex.

Tags: @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @ramonathinks @nkogneatho @tonycries @connorsui @honeeslust @halosdiary @hoshigaby @screampied @rinhaler @buttercupblu @triangularz

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader

[aakeysmash]

first meeting: college!sukuna and f!reader

content: smut (degradation, masturbation (feet are involved for f), m oral, light slapping (1), manhandling, spit), a little bit of crack, i love yuuji and he's my metphorical little brother okay (he's 9), reader has siblings because i said so, also bigbro!sukuna

It’s not the sound of the sheets rustling that wakes him up, but an ass pressing on his groin. Not like he can complain about not sleeping much; the pretty moans still reverberating in his skull are a testament to that.

He hears a yawn before feeling two hands searching for his warmth. He lazily obliges and scoots a little bit next to the body he has next to him. He lets these roaming hands touch his body, trying not to cringe. He’s not fond of physical contact if it’s not on his cock, and having someone grab his bicep while sighing dramatically about how strong he feels makes him want to puke. But you’ve got to give ‘em what they want before taking what you want.

He curses in his mind. He broke the first rule: never let a chick sleep in your bed after you fuck her. His head is killing him, the sun entering from his bedroom window making him squint. He must have fallen asleep. He remembers everything from last night: whoever says alcohol makes you forget stuff is just weak. One of the guys he shared the complex he lived in threw a goodbye party since he was moving out, and he wasn’t one to refuse free alcohol. His ex-almost-roommate invited a bunch of people from college, and Sukuna remembers that there were a couple of girls that didn’t stop whispering to each other while looking at him, chuckling behind their hands and blushing. One in particular was pretty, dancing and smiling at everyone before focusing her gaze on Sukuna and never leaving it. A classic. He played her game a bit, and she twirled when he asked her to, acting innocent when he asked her if he could lick salt from between her boobs before taking a shot of tequila. Boobs that turned out to still be salty when he licked and sucked her nipples an hour later, and twirl she did, but this time on his dick, the innocent act all gone. He fucked her like he owned her, and she got fucked like she wanted to be owned by him.

“‘Morning, ‘Kuna,” a whisper in the quiet of his room. Sweet, sweet voice whose hands are now traveling towards his hardening cock. He looks at the clock in front of his bed and makes sure to not roll his eyes too obviously, opting to grab her ass to make the process of riling her up faster. He has to leave for practice in 30 minutes, but a blowjob will do.

His hand travels to her front, expert hands finding her clit immediately. He barely touches it and she trembles in his arms, already panting. So responsive. He smirks. This will take less than he anticipated.

“You’re wet already? You’re such a slut,” he groggily says in her ear. She moans. She likes that shit. His fingers find her opening, making sure to take some of her wetness before focusing on making small little eights on her bundle of nerves. “Spread these legs and shut the fuck up. The whole dorm already knows you’re enjoying yourself, you made sure they heard you last night,” he points out, biting her lobe. She opens her legs like the smart girl she is, and whines every time his middle finger catches on the hood of her sweet button. She babbles something along the lines of so close, so close, but right now he pays it no mind. “Don- don’t you dare stop-” another moan. Sukuna dips both his middle and ring finger in her opening, grinding his palm on her clit, feeling her arch her back against his chest. He knows his stuff: he’s degrading, demanding, evil, but he likes his women pleased thoroughly. Her pussy is squeezing him hard, when he suddenly registers what she said and gets away from her, bored. It’s not the first time some random girl thinks she can make him do whatever she wants just because she made him cum the night before. Which is not even completely true, because he always pulls out, even wearing a condom, and finishes with his hand. There’s no way a bum who lets a stranger fuck her is becoming his baby mama. He’s too young to deal with future college dropouts. 

She starts complaining, saying how he’s so mean, ‘Kuna, you’ve been doing this all night, please let me cum, I’ve been so good to you, but Sukuna just manhandles her and gets her on the floor. He seats himself in front of her, grabbing her hair roughly and positioning her head right in front of his standing dick. She yelps, forced to look up at him and his red irises. Her eyelashes flutter, her mouth opens a bit, and she gets wetter. He’s so big and strong, his arm flexing from how he’s making her strain her neck, looking down like a king does not even toward a servant, but toward a roach.

“You’re not going to tell me what I can and can’t do, bitch,” he starts saying, glaring at her menacingly. “And I remember you cumming quite a lot yesterday, actually,” he adds smugly, and she shuts her mouth. She did cum a lot. He never missed the chance to make her scream his name. “Now start sucking, I’ll let you get off on my feet. You should be thanking me, I don’t usually let brats like you stay a second time.” 

He then squishes her cheeks with the hand that’s not in her hair, making her pucker her lips. She looks at him with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. She’s quite literally hanging off his every word. He’s so sexy. I can’t let him be upset with me, or he won’t let me see him again! I want to be his girl so bad. 

“Open up,” he tells her, and she doesn’t need to be told twice. She’s equally aroused and scared. She sticks her tongue out, getting her hands behind her back and her feet under her ass. Obedient little thing. Sukuna goes to spit into her open mouth, but he makes sure to miss and spits on her cheek instead. She flinches, but she doesn’t move.

“Oops,” he grins, then collects his saliva from her face and slips his digits past her lips, choking her with them. “Swallow,” he commands.

“But-” she tries to speak, and he responds by pressing down hard on her tongue and making her gag.

“I said swallow, whore,” he repeats, rougher this time. She makes sure to listen to him, starting to tear up. He gets his fingers out of her mouth and lightly slaps her cheek with that same hand. 20 minutes left.

“Good girl. Now suck this cock,” he orders. She doesn’t miss a beat, bobbing her head up and down. He pushes her head down how he pleases, and she starts grinding on his foot. The only sound that can be heard inside of the room is the obnoxious slurping she’s making to accommodate his length inside her mouth. He’s big, girthy, with a pretty black band on the base she’s never quite reaching, and he tastes good, so good. Almost like yesterday after cumming he scrubbed himself clean in an extra meticulous manner. Almost self deprecating, almost as if he wanted to remove his skin as a whole. Almost as if he regretted fucking a stranger just for the pleasure of it, again. But like most things about him, it’s only ever going to be an almost. Even for himself.

It’s so humiliating, choking on his dick while desperately trying to find relief, but she has to do it. She has to. His imposing aura doesn’t make her do anything that he doesn’t want to be done. Also, sucking the cock of one of the hottest guys on campus is a major turn on for whoever gets to do it, and she’s not passing up the opportunity to tell her friends from her hometown about it. She’s been at this college just two weeks and she already achieved this? They’re not going to believe their ears. 

She doesn’t know that she’s not special: he’s known for fucking random girls, but they still flock to him like moths to a flame. Maybe it’s his bad boy aura, or them thinking they could change him, but the only real fact is that he’s still fucking and they’re still getting their hearts broken. Not like he gives a single fuck, anyway. As long as he gets an orgasm out of it.

“Hollow those cheeks,” he grunts, and she obliges. He’s getting bored, her head game isn’t that strong, and at this rate he’s never going to cum in time. He looks at the clock again. He has 5 minutes. This girl is sure taking her sweet time, and he’s pretty sure she already came 2 different times from how wet his foot is feeling and how she’s losing momentum again. Disgusting. Nasty whore.

He concentrates on feeling at least a bit of euphoria, making his orgasm nearer. He’d fuck her throat, but he doesn’t feel like it this morning since his head is still hurting a bit, and whatever he decides to do is law inside of his room. He’s about to nut, and he knows her jaw must be hurting, but it’s not his fault he lasts long. They never complain about it when they’re getting pounded, either. 2 minutes.

Suddenly, someone knocks at his door. He rolls his eyes and ignores it. Then, another three knocks. His eye ticks. Time slows down for him: he sees the girl at his feet widening her eyes and hazily looking up at him. He has a quick realization: he was about to cum and now he’s not going to. Then, a slow one: he’s pissed off because of the quick realization. He acts as if he didn’t hear it, again, and the girl opens her mouth again, but whoever is on the other side must be pretty persistent, because they start knocking and this time they don’t stop.

Now he’s not only pissed off, he’s angry. Who the fuck disturbs him on a Saturday morning?

He scowls, scoffs and then stands up. “I’m fucking coming,” he loudly says. He almost hears someone say fucking finally, but he’s not sure of it. He gives them the benefit of the doubt.

He doesn’t spare the girl on the floor a second glance before getting her out of the way by her hair and putting on a pair of sweatpants. She tumbles, not sitting prettily anymore. She looks disheveled and a bit out of words. He senses she didn’t get the memo since she hasn’t moved from her place. She’s pissing him off, too. He hates dumb bitches.

“Dress yourself up. You have ten seconds before I open this damn door and let whoever the fuck is here see you like this,” he coldly says. She tries to respond, and he loses all his patience.

“Ten, nine, eight…” he starts counting fast. She wobbles over her dress as fast as she can and pulls it on her head, trembling, mascara from last night still on her cheeks, a bit of her spit on her chin. He’s so scary when he’s mad. Sexy, too, but really fucking scary. She finds that she’s not able to look up at him anymore, almost bowing while she brushes her hair with her hands. He’s not a king anymore, he’s a tyrant.

“But ‘Kuna, I thought we-” 

He snickers, then stops looking at her again. “Girl, I don’t even remember your name. There’s no us. And stop calling me like that, it’s so fucking annoying.”

She feels like crying. She realizes that the degrading persona in the sheets wasn’t an act, he’s like that in real life too, and she gave it to him like he was special. Like she was special.

He slams the door open and instantly feels a punch on his naked chest. Huh?

“Ew,” you say surprised, jumping back, cleaning your hand on your jeans and making a disgusted face. He raises an eyebrow.

“Ew? Who the fuck are you? What the fuck do you want?” he curses. Who do you think you are?

You stretch your lips, giving his figure a once over. He’s half naked, gray sweatpants low on his hips, very tattooed. A really big contrast with the color of his hair, which is a bright pink. He’s tall, and very strong if his bulging muscles are an indicator of that. You guess he’d look scary if you weren’t slightly upset.

“I’m your new neighbor, if you can call it that. They told me I’d find you here, and I guess I found you,” you tell him trying not to sound too bitter about the fact he so obviously ignored you while you were knocking.

“No shit,” he answers, completely uninterested.

You tell him your name, stretching your hand to shake his. “Hope we can live peacefully for the next couple of years, yeah?” you say, trying (again) to be nice, forcing yourself to smile a little. 

He looks at your hand without bothering to extend his, keeping his arms crossed. He looks utterly disgusted. ”Bye,” he says and he goes to turn back inside his room.

This guy is rude. You don’t do well with people who are rude for no reason whatsoever.

“Well then, I would’ve said I’m sorry for accidentally punching you since I was just about to knock again, but I’m more sorry for my hand who touched you,” you remark, not smiling anymore and glaring at him. 

He raises his eyebrows. Oh, he really doesn’t like you, and he doesn’t even know who you are. Disturbing his peace and acting entitled? Hell no.

“Be grateful you still have a hand,” he growls, glaring at you just as hard.

“Be grateful I let you know I’m moving in without throwing all your shit out of our bathroom, bitch,” you immediately respond. 

He chokes on a laugh. 

“Yeah, sure. There’s no way they gave me a girl as a new roommate, stop using excuses. Did we fuck? Are you here to tell me I’m a big meanie for not contacting you again?” He juts his bottom lip out, like he’s mocking a toddler. “Get the fuck out of my face,” he tells you, starting to close the door in your face.

“No, dumbass, I wouldn’t touch you with the hands of another girl, imagine what I’d do with mine. If you don’t get your shit out in 3 minutes you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap,” you wittily remark.

“‘Ku- Sukuna, who’s that?” You hear from the girl inside of his room.

“Oooh, a girl. Is she the one who put the stick up your ass? Pegged you real good huh?” you ask him, fake smiling.

He looks pissed off to the max.

“Shut the fuck up. Both of you. You, get the fuck out of my room,” he says to the scared girl, “You, we’re done talking, I hate pretentious bitches like you,” he adds giving you a disgusted once over.

He doesn’t expect you to just stare at him, though, and it takes him off guard. He’s confused: not everyday someone tests his patience so hard first thing in the morning and even manages to react like nothing happened. It makes him want to murder you and your stupid attitude.

“Bro, you’re like, so fucking annoying. Whatever, little miss princess who orders everyone around and pretends that they should listen, too,” you tell him, unblinking.

Suddenly he’s all up in your face, towering over you, and you have to pretend that your breath doesn’t hitch. Finding yourself two centimeters from someone’s nose was not on your today’s bingo list. Much less if the person in this situation is more than 200 pounds of pure muscles. 

“What the fuck did you just call me?” He grits through his teeth. You can smell a bit of a smokey undertone in his breath, like he’s not a big smoker but still a smoker.

You get even closer, effectively touching your nose with his. He might be scary and the fact that he has a pair of tattooed eyes under his real ones is kind of freaking you out, but you’re not going to let a guy step on you on your first day of college. This should be one of the best years of your life, dammit.

“I called you a princess. Is that pissing you off, princess?” You repeat. He goes to shove you away but you’re faster and get away on your own.

“3 minutes, asshole. That’s all you have,” you say while walking toward the room close to his, not looking back. You feel his gaze on your back, and you flip him off before slamming your door closed.

Now alone, you start organizing your stuff to make space for the bed frame that should be arriving in a matter of hours. The lady at the reception told you that you’d have a male “roommate” and you planned on asking him for help, but there’s no way you’re asking anyone anything if they’re that big of an asshole.

You hear a light knock on your door and you almost jump out of your skin, startled, until you hear a foreign voice calling for you.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

You open the door and almost faint. “Oh my God, he shrinked,” you whine.

The pink haired kid you find yourself facing looks confused. 

“Shrinked?” he says pensively. Then he must see how you’re glaring at him kinda meanly, and he gets it. “Oh! You must’ve encountered Sukuna. I’m Yuuji, his brother, nice to meet you,” he clarifies while rubbing behind his ear and smiling gently at you.

You’re so relieved by this piece of information that your demeanor changes radically.

“Well, I must say you two look identical. Minus the fact he’s a total asshole,” you tell him, rolling your eyes and relaxing. He chuckles while nodding, and you keep on rambling. “I’m sorry for not being nice immediately, but it’s been a long day. You know, moving in and all…” you try justifying yourself, smiling sheepishly.

“Sure, I get it. I just wanted to see who’s gonna be here for the next year. If you need a hand with anything don’t hesitate to knock on my door!” he says excitedly. He looks like a softer version of the beast of the man you just came across, and he radiates puppy energy. You can quite literally see his metaphorical tail shaking and his big puppy eyes blinking happily. 

“Oh! You live here? I thought this was supposed to be a dorm for college students,” you ask, curious.

“Yeah, because it is. Big bro convinced the principal or whatever to make me stay, though. I wouldn’t have had a home to stay at, anyway,” he shrugs. You widen your eyes: these are not things you tell a stranger about. This kid is either too naive or too used to things like these. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, like this is a recurrent conversation for him. Like it’s basic knowledge for anyone that comes across him and his brother.

“Oh. I’m sorry for- prying?” you try saying, embarrassed, before changing the topic. “My door is always open too, you know. I have siblings, I don’t mind being interrupted from time to time since I’m used to it. Maybe we could play together? What do you like to do in your free time?”.

He looks at you with big brown eyes. He’s serious for three seconds, and he looks older, wiser. You can feel the way you’re starting to sweat, when he breaks out in a big smile.

“I like you. I don’t mind talking about the way I lack a family, but it’s nice when people act interested in more than that, you know? I like-”

“Brat, how many times have I told you to not bother people with your yapping?” you hear a deep voice saying from outside your door. The child in front of you lowers his metaphorical puppy ears, turning to look at whoever called him.

“But she’s nice! She asked me about it!” he responds. You hear footsteps approaching your bedroom.

“Who are you even talking-” Sukuna stops mid sentence, glancing at your still standing form, then raises one side of his upper lip, almost like he’s snarling. You reciprocate with a scoff of your own.

“Her? Nice?” he says mockingly. 

“Wouldn’t even have guessed you were brothers by the way he has manners you clearly lack,” you respond, glaring at him. He clenches his jaw and you think he’s trying to reign in his temper in front of his little brother, but that must be your impression, because the next thing he does is get him in the air by his collar. Yuuji trashes a little bit, but Sukuna is too strong, and at one point he just gives up.

“Let’s go. You’re not talking to her anymore,” he says to his mini counterpart, beginning to turn around while dragging him behind his back.

“But she asked me to play with her! Come on, bro, I’m bored when you’re not here,” Yuuji says while pouting. In all of this you just stood next to your open door. You almost pity the little puppy, he genuinely seems like a good kid, and maybe it’s the big sister in you but you’d hate your little brother to be bored and sad while doing nothing.

“If you help me set up my room, we can play aaaall day,” you suddenly say, getting out in the hallway and winking at the smallest of the two. Sukuna stops dragging his little brother and snaps his head toward you.

He narrows his eyes. “You little-”

Yuuji manages to free himself from his brother’s hold and comes running in front of you.

“Deal! Deal!” he responds excitedly, then gets into your room and starts unpacking by himself. You chuckle, then smile to yourself: he makes you miss home.

“If you so much as crumple his shirt, consider yourself a dead woman,” you hear Sukuna’s breath on your neck. Your hairs stand and a shiver runs down your back.

“Sir yes sir,” you say, gulping loudly. It’s not until you hear him walking away that you turn around.

“Yo, big guy, did you manage to free the bathroom from your ugly 3 in 1 body wash?”

He flips you off, then gets out without saying another word.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fic #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #college au #big brother au #sukuna crack #sukuna ryomen smut

[sunkissed-zegras]

★ MIC'D UP ─── UCONN WBB MANAGER

❪ requested -> "fic for the manager being mic’d up at practice!!!" ❫

─ warnings | nothing but banter and teasing!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

"KK, sweetie be careful. Put the water-" You were cut off abruptly by the loud crash that echoed throughout the gym as KK dropped the water jug on the floor, spilling it all over as Paige and Nika watched in horror.

"Put the water down slowly," you continued with a sigh as the camera zoomed in on your face.

The camera cuts and comes back to Paige as she delicately adjusts the mic on your collar, trying to shake off the unexpected interruption caused by KK's clumsy mishap.

"Okay, all set," Paige whispers, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the gym.

Before you could continue, the video pauses as a message comes onto the screen Sorry to all the headphone users, lower the volume 😛

"Hey guys, can you hear me?" You shout into the mic loudly as Paige giggles off camera, causing you to smile. The cameraman gives you a thumbs up along with an amused chuckle as you grin up at the camera.

Paige comes up behind you with a grin as she sticks out her tongue, earning a disgusted expression on your face. "Wait, wait did you get KK with the-" Paige couldn't even continue without laughing as she glanced back at your now, displeased expression.

The cameraman nods as Paige claps her hands together, laughing. "My god, that is gold. Everyone's gonna love it-"

"Paige, seriously?" You chuckle, trying to keep a straight face as she continues to laugh.

As Paige's laughter fills the air, you can't help but join in, the tension from KK's mishap melting away into amusement. "Alright, let's get back to business," you say, your voice still laced with humor.

Paige nods enthusiastically, wiping away a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. "Yeah, yeah, let's do this," she says, her grin widening as she regains her composure.

The video cuts then comes back as the camera zooms in on you and Coach Geno as you watched the girls during warm-ups. You and Geno kept exchanging amused looks as you both overheard their conversations.

"Did you hear what she just said?" you whisper to Coach Geno, a grin spreading across your face as you exchange amused looks. "Ice, we can hear you!"

Ice just gave you a grin as she jogs back to the benches to get a drink of water.

The camera cuts again then comes back with you sitting on the bench with your hands in your face as the girls scrimmaged. You sighed loudly as you glanced back up, trying to recover from the terrible execution you just witnessed on the court.

You glanced back up from your hands, the frustration evident in your expression, but as you caught Coach Geno's eye, you couldn't help but crack a wry smile. "Well, that was... creatively chaotic," you muttered under your breath, trying to inject a bit of humor into the situation.

Coach Geno chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "A perfect description," he replied, his own smile reflecting yours.

"I hear you talkin' shit, buddy!" You heard Paige's voice as Geno sent her a glare. "Oops, sorry Coach."

The camera zooms back into your face as you laugh, unable to contain your amusement. "We wouldn't be talking so much crap if you actually knew how to play basketball," you tease, your laughter bubbling up despite the frustration of the scrimmage.

Paige jogged up to you with a mock annoyed expression as she sized you up, looking at you up and down as you began to laugh uncontrollably. "Bro, you better watch yourself," Paige retorted, a playful glint in her eyes. "Cause I'd beat your..." she glanced at the camera with a grin. "Butt,"

You rolled your eyes as you bit your lip, trying to stifle your laughter. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, really." Paige sent you a mock glare as the girls began to come in for a water break. "Guys, guys, guys. Who would win in a 1v1, me or Y/N?"

"Y/N, easily." Nika responded quickly as you sent her a grateful smile.

Paige sighed loudly as all the other girls began agreeing with her, as you grinned. "You suck ups!"

"I mean, she pays for our food. And she like, lets us hang out in her dorm and borrow her clothes," Aubrey chimed in, eliciting laughter from the rest of the team.

Paige playfully rolled her eyes, unable to hide her amusement. "Alright, alright, I get it," she conceded with a dramatic sigh. "Y/N's the favorite."

"For sure," Coach Geno added as he smiled at you. "Okay girls less talkin, more workin."

The camera panned out, capturing the team as they reluctantly returned to their drills, a mix of groans and giggles filling the air. You stood up, shaking your head with a smile, and clapped your hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, ladies, let’s focus. I want to see some real effort out there,” you called out, your tone a blend of authority and encouragement.

Geno turned his head, his expression surprised but pleased as gave you a thumbs up, earning a laugh from you.

As practice came to an end, the camera zoomed in on the girls as they gathered around for a final huddle. You and Coach Geno stood in the center, looking around at the faces of your team.

Coach Geno began, “Keep that same energy and focus, and we’re going to go far. Now, let’s break it out and get some rest. That's all I have to say for right now.”

“And great job today, everyone,” you began, your voice filled with pride. "Oh and! Don't forget, film is mandatory, you guys have to go. I'm looking at you, Paige."

"Bro, I was sick-"

Coach Geno cleared his throat before the two of you quickly shut your mouths. "Girls, please I'm tired."

"Okay, okay fine. UConn on three," Paige muttered as all the girls put their hands in.

The girls cheered, breaking the huddle with a unified chant. As they dispersed, the camera captured candid moments of laughter and camaraderie, emphasizing the strong bond within the team.

The screen then displayed a message: “Stay tuned for more behind-the-scenes fun and game highlights. Go Huskies!”

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#uconn wbb manager ★ #uconn wbb x reader #uconn wbb fic #uconn huskies #kk arnold #wcbb #uconn #paige buckets #paige bueckers #uconn women’s basketball #nika muhl #wbb #aaliyah edwards #wbb x reader #wcbb x reader #uconn wbb #uconn wcbb #uconnwbb #ice brady

[ahqkas]

Gryffindor! Reader who always try to avoid mattheo because of the beef between houses. But mostly because of the rumors of the riddle brother. Mattheo knows this, it’s like a game of cat and mouse as it only ends up with mattheo teasing her until she’s flustered.

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE ANCIENT RIVALRY BETWEEN GRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN WAS A WELL-KNOWN FACT AT HOGWARTS. it was a feud written in tradition and mutual dislike, carried on through generations of students. for you, a proud gryffindor, the tradition was not just a historical detail but a daily reality. especially when it came to avoiding mattheo riddle, the short tempered slytherin whose reputation preceded him.

it wasn’t just the typical house rivalry that made you steer clear of mattheo; it was the swirling rumors about him and his name. the whispers in the corridors, the hushed conversations in the common room – all painted him as someone to be wary of. despite this, there was an undeniable allure to him, a magnetism that made it increasingly difficult to ignore his presence.

mattheo seemed to take great delight in your attempts to avoid him. it was like a game of cat and mouse, one he played with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he had an uncanny ability to appear wherever you least expected him, always ready with a teasing remark or a sly smile that made your heart race.

one afternoon, you were hurrying through the courtyard, hoping to reach the library before dinner. the winter sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the cobblestones. you quickened your pace, hoping to evade any slytherins who might be lingering nearby.

"running from something, gryffindor?"

the familiar drawl stopped you in your tracks. you turned to see mattheo leaning against a stone pillar, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk playing on his lips. his dark curls fell into his eyes, which sparkled with amusement. he enjoyed this game between the two of you too much.

"no, just trying to get to the library," you replied, trying to sound indifferent. "some of us actually have work to do."

"ah, always the responsible student," he teased, pushing off from the pillar and sauntering over to you. "but you know, all work and no play makes for a very dull lion."

you rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding against your rib cage. "i have enough excitement without adding you to the mix, riddle."

he stepped closer, his gaze intense. "oh i doubt that." he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. the casual touch sent a shiver down your spine. "why do you avoid me, really?"

you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "you know why," you muttered.

"because of the rumors?" he asked and his voice visibly softened now. "you shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"it’s not just the rumors," you admitted. "it’s . . . well, you're you. and i am me. gryffindor and slytherin don't exactly mix well."

"who says we have to follow the rules?" he said, his tone challenging. "maybe we can make our own."

you couldn't help but glance up at him, caught by the sincerity in his voice. "why do you care so much, mattheo?"

"because i like you," he said simply. "and i think you like me too, even if you won't admit it."

your cheeks flushed, and you looked away again. "you’re impossible," you muttered, but there was no heat in your words this time.

"and you're adorable when you're flustered," he teased, his smirk returning.

before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of the break. you took a step back, needing to put some distance between you and the overwhelming presence of mattheo riddle.

"i have to go.”

"i’ll see you around, princess," he called after you, his voice filled with a promise.

as you walked away, you couldn't help but smile. despite your best efforts, mattheo riddle was getting under your skin. and maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #x reader #reader insert #mattheo x reader #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo fluff #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin x reader #slytherin

[miley1442111]

birthday fights & other lies- a.hotchner

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

summary: aaron forgot your birthday which spirals into something much deeper.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem baureader

warnings: cheating, panic attack, fighting, no happy ending :(

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

12:08. Your birthday was over. 

And Aaron hadn’t said a thing. 

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

1pm that day

“Happy birthday Y/n!” Spencer smiled, handing you a small cupcake with a lit birthday candle on it. The icing was pink, strawberry, your favourite. The cupcake was vanilla, with little sprinkles in it that made it all the more colourful. 

“Thank you,” you chuckled as he pulled you into a hug, his long arms and tall stature dwarfing you in his hold. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, I wanted to,” he shrugged. “I have tickets to a play this weekend, it’s in the Ford’s Theatre so it’ll be a bit of a drive but-”

“I’d love to go. Thank you Spencer,”  you smiled. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow night at 7pm, we can get dinner as well, my treat.”

“Thank you Spencer,” you smiled and hugged him again. 

When you’d woken up that morning, you’d been alone in your bed, despite it being full of two people the night prior. Aaron had come over, as he usually did on Thursday nights. He’d get off work late and something in him made him drive to your small townhouse, and fuck you in your bed. He’d spend the whole night convincing you he loved you, only to pretend it never happened the next day. It was like clockwork. 

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

3pm that day

“Happy birthday sweetheart,” Derek smiled, placing a card and a gift box on your desk. 

“Thanks Derek,” you smiled and hugged him close. Earlier Penelope, Jj, and Emily had dropped off gifts at your apartment this morning, and you all had plans to go out to dinner tonight.

David had mailed you a gift, and an invitation to his home for Sunday with the rest of the team. Everyone had accepted, apart from Aaron. 

When you thought about it, you didn’t know much about the unit chief you served under, in more ways than one. You knew he was kind and tender, but only behind closed doors. You knew he was intelligent and pragmatic, good at his job, and logical.

But what was he really to you? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? Was this a power imbalance? Were you doomed to never know?

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

Your phone dinged and you turned it on, tired from the night with the girls. 

Are you awake? Aaron asked.

Not for you.

What do you mean?

I don’t know if you noticed but it’s kind of an important day. 

What do you mean?

I’m 24 now. You missed my birthday.

He didn’t respond for a few minutes. 

I’m sorry. 

I don’t care. Don’t call or text me again. I’m not just your fuck doll, I’m a real person. 

I know that.

Then act like it Aaron. For fuck’s sake. 

I love you.

No you don’t. 

I’m coming over.

The door’s locked.

We have to talk Y/n.

Read 12:14am

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

Knock, knock, knock.

“Fuck off,” you called from your kitchen, ignoring the banging on the door. 

“We have to talk,” he demanded. 

“No we don’t. We’re not anything anymore.” 

“Please Y/n,” his voice sounded a lot more… emotional than you were used to. Raw and unusually soft. Aaron did everything he way he led the team, with confidence and strength, that included your sex life and relationship. Not once had he been vulnerable the way you’d been. You’d spent nights thinking about your future together and the way you’d tell the team. He’d been asleep beside you, or in his own bed. 

You unlocked the door and he came barging in, engulfing you in an all-consuming kiss. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept up in the moment, imagining this is what he’d wanted to do all day but he couldn’t, the team didn’t know you two were together. You pulled back and crossed your arms. 

“Hi,” you sighed, trailing back into the kitchen with him hot on your heels. 

“Hi my darling,” he smiled softly. “I’m so sorry I forgot about today, I just… it slipped my mind, it’ll never happen again, I swear.” 

“Aaron, it really hurts that you just… forgot about today. I’m not asking for a gift, I just wanted… acknowledgement. Is that too much to ask?” Your eyes trailed down to his hands where his fingers played with a… wedding ring? 

What the fuck? Aaron had never spoken about being married. He’d never told you he was married. You would never, ever be the one to break up a marriage. Ever. 

“Are you married?!” You shouted. Anger bubbling in your stomach like bile. “You fucking asshole!”

8 months of your life, wasted. Someone else’s entire marriage ruined. All because of his selfish actions. 

“What? No,” he shrugged, then realised his fuck-up. His hands solidified themselves in his trouser pockets and he started. “I thought-”

“Are you separated? Who is she? Did I really just become a homewrecker?!” 

“Baby please-”

“NO! Do not ‘baby’ me! Tell me everything about this woman right now! Do you two have kids?!” 

“Yes,” he answered and you genuinely stopped breathing. 

“W-what? So- so this entire fucking time y-you’ve been mar-married,” you panted, a hand over your chest to try and make yourself breathe, but you were. You were having a panic attack. Aaron could see the signs. He walked closer but then noticed the way you were shielding yourself from him, making your body smaller, leaning down, and ultimately ending up on the floor as you shut your eyes and tried to focus on breathing.

“Yes.” 

“Why didn’t y-you tell me?” you rasped. 

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“What!? I ruined a marriage? Y-you’re getting a divorce? Is it becau… because of me?”

“Yes and no,” he answered, just observing you, his voice calm and assertive, like it always is. 

“What the fuck does that mean!?” you shouted. Thank god your walls were thick and the neighbours next door wouldn’t hear a thing. This would’ve been awkward to explain at the next neighbourhood meeting. 

“I didn’t tell her… about you. She asked for a divorce on her own terms, but we were already separated the first time me and you had sex.”

“So then how is this about me?” you were calming down, Aaron could see it. It fucking hurt that you were anxious of him like that. That he’d set off a fucking panic attack and you wouldn’t even let him within meters of you. 

“I signed her papers the day she sent them over. Because I’m in love with you.”

“Aaron, what the fuck? Me and you aren’t in a relationship, you’ve made that very clear. The only thing we do is fuck in my house! We don’t go on dates, we don’t celebrate each other’s birthdays, as you’ve so kindly demonstrated, and we aren’t ‘together’. You aren’t there when I wake up every morning, and you don’t come home with me from work in the evenings. You keep telling me that you love me but where is it? Where is this supposed love? I don't see it, do you?”

“I love you. I love that you call me out on all of my bullshit,” a step closer. “I love how smart and driven you are,” another step closer. “I love the little notes you leave on everyone's desks,” his hands wrap around your waist. “I love how good you are at your job,” a small kiss over the fabric of your jumper. “I love how you care about other people,” a kiss to your neck. “I love the little things you do to make me laugh throughout the day,” a kiss to the cheek. “I love everything about you,” a kiss to the lips. “And I’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I wasn't completely and utterly devoted to you.”

“I don’t trust you at all,” you admitted, a sad smile on your face. “I’ll never trust you again.”

Aaron’s heart broke, but he understood. He’d been lying to you for months, what did he expect? He didn’t tell you he was a father, a husband. For god’s sake he’d take his ring off in the car every morning. It’s not like him and Haley weren’t rocky. Had this divorce been a long time coming. Had he only been served the papers two weeks ago? Yes. Had he and Haley just separated? Yes. Did he still live with her and Jack? Yes. What was one more lie if it meant he got to keep you? Lying to you was killing him, but it was also saving him, because it meant you were his. His girlfriend, hsi love, his everything.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” he promised. 

“I don’t want to see you again,” you sniffled, small tears running down your cheeks. 

“Please-”

“Just leave. Like you always do.”

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

And Aaron did. When you showed up to work the next week, it was Spencer who was clinging to you like a lost puppy. 

Something must’ve happened at the play.

Now Aaron had truly lost you.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

[fragileheartbeats]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

♡ ⭒ㅤ𓈒 檻の中の鳥 ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ㅤ྄

꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝐼𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑀𝑒𝑛 𝑥 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

♡ㅤ𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝅄ㅤೀ

— 𝘒𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘩, 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘦, 𝘈𝘭 𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮, 𝘒𝘢𝘦𝘺𝘢, 𝘡𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪, 𝘋𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘤 <3

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 | 内田雄馬 ─ 𓇼 . ♡𝆬

'Kaveh,' you whispered, your voice choked with tears. You clung to his arm, burying your face in his sleeve, his scent a weak comfort against the overwhelming despair. 'I'm so alone. Nobody understands me like you do.' He stroked your hair, his touch gentle and warm, and whispered back, his voice thick with emotion, 'Don't say that, dove. I'm here. Always.' The truth was, you weren't alone. You had a bustling city at your fingertips, filled with people who cared. But you always returned to Kaveh, your tears a weapon that tore at his heartstrings. He was so soft, so willing to be your refuge, that he failed to see the truth. You were a storm, and he was a willow, bending with every gust of your emotions. Your tears were a poison, slowly draining the life out of him, and he was too blinded by love to see it. 'What if I leave?' you asked, your voice barely a whisper. He squeezed your hand, his eyes wide with terror. 'I wouldn't let you. You're my everything.' He never questioned your neediness. He never saw the calculated way you manipulated his affection, your tears a tool to keep him by your side. He was so desperately in love, so desperate to fill the void in your heart, that he was content to drown in your sorrow. When you saw the tears welling in his eyes, a small, cruel smile played on your lips. You had him, and you knew you would never let go. Not as long as you could see that love reflected in his eyes, a love that blinded him to the darkness you were.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 | 公子 ─ 𓐐𓎩 . ♡𝆬

The scent of lilac and salt hung heavy in the air, a familiar comfort that Childe always associated with you. He watched you, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs, as you leaned against his arm, your tears staining his scarlet coat. Another man had broken your heart, you said, your voice a broken whisper. He knew it was a lie. You had never loved anyone but him, not truly. You couldn’t, not when you were so completely devoted to him, clinging to him like a vine. Your tears were a performance, a way to garner more of his attention, more of his pity. It was all so… endearing. He stroked your hair, feeling the fine strands cling to his fingers. “He wasn’t worthy of you,” he murmured, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. “No one is.” You looked up at him, your eyes red-rimmed and glistening. “You’re the only one who ever loves me,” you whispered, your hand finding its way to his cheek, tracing the lines of his jaw with a trembling finger. His heart ached. You were so beautiful, even when you were crying. The way your lips trembled, the way your eyes held such a raw vulnerability, it was intoxicating. He wanted to hold you, to protect you from the world, to be the only one who ever saw you like this. “You can always come to me,” he said, his voice laced with a deep need. “I’ll always be here for you, always.” You leaned closer, your breath warm against his ear. 'I know,' you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. 'That's why I love you so much, Childe.' His heart skipped a beat. He loved you too, you were the sun and moon to him, the air he breathed, the reason for his existence. But this… this was different. This was something more possessive, more consuming. He wasn't sure if it was your tears or the way you looked at him, your eyes filled with an unspoken desire, but a thrill coursed through him. The thought of you belonging to him, only him, the one who held your tears and your heart, was both terrifying and exhilarating. “I know,” he said, his voice rough. 'I love you too, Y/N.' You looked up at him, your smile so bright it hurt. “Then promise me, Childe,” you whispered, your eyes filled with a fervent need. “Promise me that you’ll never let anyone else have me.” He looked into your eyes, the dark depths radiating an intensity he couldn’t ignore. His heart tightened, a feeling he couldn’t quite name. He met your gaze, and in that moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you. “I promise,” he said, his voice laced with a dangerous promise. “No one will ever have you but me.” Your smile widened, your hand tightening around his. He felt a dark warmth spread through him, a feeling he hadn’t known before. It was primal, possessive, and as he watched you lean in, his heart filled with a terrifying, consuming love. He would make sure no one else ever hurt you, and no one else would ever have you. You were his, and he would keep you that way, forever.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 | 艾尔海森 ─ ☘︎ . ♡𝆬

The scent of lilies, your favourite, wafted from the bouquet you held, wilting slightly in your trembling hands. 'Alhaitham,' you choked out, your voice thick with unshed tears, 'You're back.' He looked at you, his usually stoic face softened by a tenderness that only you saw. You knew he could see through your tears, knew they weren't genuine, but he never called you out. He simply sighed and gently took the lilies, placing them in a vase on the table. 'You shouldn't waste your time on such frivolous things,' he said, his voice calm and soothing. 'It's not like you're going anywhere.' A sob escaped your lips. 'Of course, Alhaitham. I'd never leave you, never.' You clung to his arm, burying your face in his sleeve. 'You're all I have.' He remained silent, a flicker of sadness crossing his eyes. He loved you, truly loved you, with a passion that bordered on obsession. But the way you clung to him, your constant tears, the suffocating possessiveness you exhibited... It scared him sometimes. But he stayed. For you. For the way your eyes sparkled when he smiled, for the soft way you always hummed a tune when he read to you, for the way your hand instinctively sought his whenever you felt afraid. He stayed because he loved you, with a love that was both consuming and terrifying. And as you tightened your grip on him, whispering, 'Don't leave me, Alhaitham, please,' he couldn't bring himself to break free. He couldn't bear to see the tears, the genuine ones this time, that would surely follow. He loved you, too much, and that was his curse.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | ガイア ─ 𓆉 . ♡𝆬

The soft sobs that wracked your body were a familiar tune, the kind that tugged at Kaeya's heartstrings with an aching fondness. He perched on the edge of your bed, a hand gently resting on your back as you clung to him, your choked cries a constant rhythm against his chest. “Darling,” he murmured, his voice a balm against the storm brewing within you. “Why do you cry so?” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest, your tears staining the silken fabric of his shirt. “I’m afraid,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Afraid of losing you.” He stroked your hair, the warmth of his touch a beacon in the darkness of your fears. “You’ll never lose me, darling,” he assured, his voice laced with a sincerity that was both genuine and heartbreaking. He knew your tears were a performance, a twisted dance of manipulation and affection. He knew that your fear of losing him stemmed not from love, but from a possessive need for him, a need that bordered on obsession. Yet, he played along, his heart heavy but filled with an adoration that threatened to consume him. He loved you, with an intensity that bordered on madness, embracing your delusions with the same fervor you held him. He knew it was a trap, a gilded cage he willingly stepped into. But as long as your tears stained his chest, as long as your trembling hands clutched his, he would remain, his love a flickering candle in the storm of your possessive affection.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 | 钟离 ─ 𖤣𖥧 . ♡𝆬

The soft sobs against his chest were a familiar ache, a constant undercurrent to their days. You clung to him, your tears staining his clothes like a watercolor painting of despair. He could feel the tremor in your fingers digging into his robes, the choked gasps of your breaths. 'My love, why are you crying?' He asked, his voice a gentle rumble that barely touched the surface of your turmoil. You didn't answer, only pressed your face harder into his chest, your body a shivering mass of grief. He knew the truth, the silent, unspoken terror that lurked behind those tears. You were afraid of losing him, of the world encroaching on your fragile bubble of happiness. He could see through your facade, the carefully crafted illusion of innocence. He knew you were not a simple, fragile creature, but a force of nature, capable of great love and greater devastation. Yet, he stayed. He stayed because he loved you, with a depth that defied logic and reason. He loved you so much that he was willing to be your captive, willingly locked away in your gilded cage. He loved you so much that he ignored the warning whispers of his own heart, the growing fear that he was losing himself in the abyss of your despair. He stroked your hair, the familiar ritual of comfort, and whispered, 'I am here, my love. Always.' The truth of his words hung heavy in the air, a promise that might not be enough to mend the cracks in your heart, but a promise he would keep, for as long as you needed him. For as long as he could bear the weight of your love, the ever-present shadow of your despair.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑 | 迪卢克 ─ ♬ . ♡𝆬

The scent of lavender and something faintly metallic hung around you, a constant reminder of your near-constant tears. Diluc, ever patient, would cup your face, his thumb gently wiping away the trails of your sorrow. 'My love,' he'd murmur, his voice a soothing balm against your raw emotions. 'Don't cry. I'm here.' You'd only cling tighter, your sobs wracking your slender frame as you whispered, 'You're the only one who understands.' He understood, yes. He understood the fear that gripped you at the slightest hint of separation, the paranoia that festered in your heart. He understood because you were his world, his everything. The way your eyes would well up at the sound of someone else's name, the way your hands would instinctively reach for him in the middle of the night, it was all a testament to the intensity of your love. He loved you fiercely, blindly. He couldn't see the poison that your love had become, how your possessiveness had transformed into a suffocating cage. The faint whimper that escaped your lips whenever he mentioned leaving, the way your fingers would dig into his arm, leaving painful marks that he'd later ignore, he chalked it all up to your vulnerability, your need for him. But he was a fool. A fool who, in his love for you, was slowly losing himself, his own identity swallowed by the suffocating, yet strangely comforting, darkness of your love.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #yandere reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin fic #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #kaveh x reader #genshin kaveh #childe x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #yandere kaveh #yandere imagines #yandere childe #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaeya #yandere zhongli #yandere diluc #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere obsession

[bunnys-kisses]

aperol spritz

captain john price

cw: summer fic, rich!price, pwp/smut, bulky!price, cowgirl position, seduction tactics, retired!price, age gap (reader is in her 20s), afab!reader, nipple/breast play, in birth control we trust, mid/plus sized!reader, italian summers here we come,

bunny says: here comes the sunshine! happy summer everyone <3 written while listening to "italian vintage summer"

you met him at last call in a party that you and your friend snuck into. it was in a terrace in a decently sized town in southern italy. you weren't looking to meet anyone that night, let alone anyone during your entire trip. it was your last vacation before you finished your university diploma. you were more interested in sight seeing than wealthy british men who offered to buy you a drink.

"you look a little lonely." he remarked.

you chuckled, "my friend is chatting up a local." the drink was placed in front of you. you took a sip of it, the coolness of it compared to the heat of summer felt good.

you looked over at the man who was trying to chat you up. he was taller than you, short brown hair, blue eyes, interesting facial hair choices. his skin looked tanned from too much time in the sun, the sight of his larger arms was enticing. he noticed you staring.

"the name is john, john price."

you reached over to shake his hand, "you sound like a bond character with that name."

he shook it gently, calloused hands touched your own, "maybe i am. maybe i'm on a secret mission to find the most beautiful woman in all of italy... to of course save the world."

you gave him a look and playfully nudged his shoulder, "alright sweet talker. i guess you haven't found her yet?"

he shook his head, "actually ma'am. i have." he placed his hand over yours, a bold move. he leaned in a little closer, "she's standin' right in front of me."

-

in hindsight, maybe ending up in bed with a british man on a breezy italian night wasn't the brightest idea. but the way he looked at you, the draw of his voice.

"well, don't ya look lovely." he said as he sat on the edge of the bed and started to untuck his white button up out of the waistband on his slacks.

you stood there, close to the doorway to the bedroom. you were in nothing but a matching pair of white bra and panties. it wasn't the most existing garments ever, but the way that price's eyes raked across your semi-naked body made your pulse jump.

he unbutton his shirt and kept his eyes on you. the faint breeze off the water came through the window. you leaned a little further against the door way, your thighs pressed together and your arms crossed.

"c'mere." he said in that thick accent of his, "i want to see if this is real or my imagination after too many rum and cokes." he laughed as he took the shirt off his body, leaving him in a white undershirt.

you swallowed at the sight of him with less clothing on, you got a good look at the strength in his arms and chest. you licked your lips to compose yourself before you got closer to him, "so." you stood in front of him, staring down at him, "why are you in italy?"

"didn't you already guess? i'm a secret agent."

you chuckled, "right, right." your eyes scanned across his body, "i guess it's all top secret."

he stood up and suddenly loomed over you. he undid his belt and dropped it to the floor, followed by his pants coming off. he then placed both his hands on your shoulders and said, "well, i guess i can let you in on a little secret."

you placed your hand on the front of his undershirt, "i love a good secret."

"former british army, captain and all." he chuckled. he leaned in and kissed you on the lips gently, "now that i've told ya." he picked you up by the middle and lifted you off your feet. he beamed at you, "i have to kill ya." then placed you on the bed.

you burst into laughter, "no one has ever really picked me up that easily." you covered your face to hide your embarrassment as your laughed.

he took off the undershirt and said, "well, you haven't meet people like me." which was followed by his underwear, "picking you up was like holding an expensive bottle of wine." he caught you in his arms as the two of you softly kissed.

"a big, strong, handsome britishman? i think i've seen a few of those." you joked and were met by another round of kisses that made you melt.

you two kissed on top of the white sheets, that felt nice against your heated skin. he held you by the back of the head as he deepened the kiss. he was a lover in a lot of ways. to be flirted with by someone so handsome was something that made you warm all over.

he took his time getting your undergarments off, he peeled your bra off of you like you were a fine treat that he needed to unwrap. once your chest was bared to him, he kissed at your breasts. his large hands fondled them as he licked across your left nipple.

"beautiful." he said softly, his blue eyes gazed up at you, "so perfect." his smile grew, as did yours. you combed your fingers through his hair as he worshiped and played with your breasts.

your legs mingled with his as he kissed and sucked at your breasts. your felt jitters pool in your gut from the feeling that raced in your body. he felt like a dream, your mouth went dry when he dragged his tongue lazily from the top of your breast all the way to your nipple.

"ah, john."

"you sounds perfect saying my name." he purred in response. his motions continued until you were soaked, he brushed his knee against your slick folds and made a soft sound against your breasts. he then looked up at you with those daring blue eyes, "are ya ready, love?"

you cupped his face and looked at him. you noticed the lines in his face and the grey in his hair. your heart leapt, despite the probably drastic age difference. he was undeniably handsome. you craned your neck to kiss him before you said, "c'mon captain price, show me what all that service can do."

he chuckled and rose up against you. his strong arms wrapped around you once more, you felt the muscles move against your torso, "call me captain again, love. and you'll be in a world of trouble."

you fought the urge to call him that again. instead you rolled yourself on top of him and prayed to the birth control gods that your daily pill worked like it should.

he gazed at you like you were a marble statue there for his worship. his strong, rough hands grasped onto your hips. feeling the fat on them. he said softly, "i understand why they craved statues of women with curves." he chuckled at his comment before he met your gaze, "because they are more beautiful than any other art created."

you covered your face once more, "oh my god."

he laughed, "see, i like that. i know you're hot all over. i can feel it." his cock was so close to slipping inside of you, "i want to know if that cunt is as warm as the rest of you."

you pulled your hands away from your face and positioned yourself on top of him. he held onto you and you held onto him as you sank down on his impressive size. you almost felt your stomach in your throat as you fully seated yourself onto him.

"that's it, love. just like that." his words were encouraging as the two of you moved to establish a pace. it was like your bodies knew exactly what you both wanted, if not needed. the connection was strong and the hum of pleasure in the back of your mind kept you going as you thrusted.

"ah. john." you whimpered as you rolled your hips. you held onto his chest, the hair between your fingers as you moved up and down on his cock.

the breeze cooled your heated back and your nipples remained hard. his chest hair and over all strength felt good against your body. it was a feeling of being fully protected. he engulfed your like a comforting flame as you re-positioned yourself to get the best angle with your movements.

"that's my girl." he purred, "my darlin' girl. you look so good. i wish i found ya earlier in my trip. we could've had a lotta fun on the coast." he beamed at you.

his hands dug further into the meat of your hips as he met your thrust with the same lust hat you carried. the metal frame of the bed squeaked under your movements and the headboard rocked against the pink painted wall.

you fucked with all the windows to the hotel room were open. you moaned like the sounds didn't make it street level. but you didn't care. the rush that went through you as you moved up and down onto his cock.

your cheeks felt swarmed with warmth as you felt his hands move up and down you sides, getting a feel for the angel on top of him. you traced your nails down his chest, feeling the muscle.

"yeah, that's it." he said softly, the heat in his face went all the way down his neck, "you feel so good, love." he chuckled then his jaw tensed as pleasure rolled through him.

you reached for his face and held it to face you, your eyes met and you pulled him in for another searing kiss. your heart thumped in your chest as the kisses became sloppy and the two of you edged closer to your orgasms.

his facial hair brushed against your cheeks, you felt so warm on the inside. it was like gooey caramel had melted in the pit of your stomach. you pulled away to catch your breath and placed both hands on his chest once more.

the pleasure filled the room, the heat that clung to your skin and the sweat at your temples. price's words were filthy with how much he thought you were so beautiful. you had never been buttered up like this before.

his grip grew harder and he took a bit more control of the pace. his cock hit against your most sensitive parts as the bed continued to creak. it wasn't long before you were panting.

your toes curled and light bulbs flashed behind your eyes. pleasure washed down like heavy rainfall and the air left your lungs. you managed to squeak out, "holy shit." before you relaxed and found comfort on your lover's chest.

price continued to hit your sweet spots with his cock. but the weight of you on top of him only made pleasure seep through his bloodstream. his head felt heavy with lust as he gave it a felt more strokes before he finished inside of you. for a moment, he realized that he never asked about protection. but he was in too much of a state of bliss to let his mouth ask the questions.

you both laid there, enjoying each other's company. he moved your head and kissed you once more on the lips. the kiss was sloppy and eventually led to a second round in bed.

the a third, followed by a speedy fourth. by the end of it you were both bone tired and you knew you wouldn't be walking right once you got up.

"that's my girl." he drew before he fell asleep on his back and his hand across his bulky abdomen.

when price was well and asleep, you slipped out of bed. you collected your clothing without making too much noise. you redressed in the hallway of the room before you walked out with your heels in hand.

that was quite the story to tell your friends back home. your face stung with a blush by the thought of it as you walked down empty streets before sunrise.

-

a month later you got a text message while you were back at home enjoying your new semester in school. you almost choked on your drink when you saw who it was from.

'hi, love. it's john price. we met in italy a while back. i was wondering if you wanted to go back, expect you don't leave in the middle of the night.'

it didn't take long before there was money being deposited into your paypal with the note 'for our little vacation'. maybe it wasn't the brightest idea to end up back in bed with a man like price. after all, you never gave him your phone number or paypal information.

but you thought about those arms, his kisses and the strength of his fucking. so it didn't take long before john price nabbed himself a pretty young thing.

xoxo, bunny

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