#Is there really nothing else to write about???

[sunshineyuyu]

princess treatment (j. yh)

★ summary: you have a crush on jongho, but he’s chatting up someone else. so, you end up getting high and hooking up with yunho instead. ★ pairing: yunho x f!reader ★ genre: college, smut (mdni!) ★ word count: 4.3k ★ tags/warnings: weed & alcohol consumption, yunho calls reader princess, high sex, piv sex (with a condom!), vaginal fingering, spanking, choking, slight dom/sub undertones, ig under-negotiated kink?, big dick!yunho, yunho manhandles reader, yunho is taller than reader, yunho has tattoos lol, dirty talk, intentionally lowercase ★ notes: this is the prequel to the jongho fic chained and the final “part” of this series! yunho from chained was just a lil too hot for me to not write something for him too! let me know if i missed any warnings!! ofc beta’d by the bestie @starhwas-bunny ★ masterlist | read on ao3 | chained (jongho sequel)

you look so hot tonight. you’re wearing your new favorite top—with a deep deep cut that makes your chest the center of attention—and a pair of jeans that you know makes your ass look good.

all of this to hopefully attract the attention of one choi jongho, who you’ve been crushing on for the better half of the semester, since san introduced you to him. he’s built and tan and nice and smart and sexy.

and he’s currently leaning against a wall—cradling a red solo cup and swirling its contents like he’s james fucking bond or something—and chatting up some pretty blonde girl.

you practically feel smoke coming out of your ears as you stare at the two of them—the way jongho leans forward so that he can hear the girl amidst the blaring sounds of somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper. ryujin puts a hand on your shoulder and the warmth of her palm makes you realize how tense you are. she shoves a beer into your hand.

“forget about him, honey,” she says. “he’s not worth it.”

“it’s not like he’s a fuckboy,” you whine, struggling to crack open the can with your recently cut nails. ryujin takes pity on you and opens it for you. you take a deep drink from it before wiping the edge of your mouth with your wrist. “he’s nice. he brought homemade coffee to class for me the other day.”

“mmm,” ryujin says. “i know, honey, but no boy is worth it. c’mon, let’s go play rage cage.”

you let ryujin pull you away to a different room, where the birthday girl yeji is parading around on wooyoung’s shoulders while spraying everyone with bubbly champagne. you don’t even really know yeji—she’s an acquaintance of an acquaintance, but you came because you wanted an excuse to get drunk and look hot and get jongho’s attention, only two of which you’ve managed to succeed in.

you finish the beer at an alarming rate and crush it in your fist.

“i’m gonna go get some air,” you say. “i’m not really feeling rage cage right now.”

“i’ll come with you,” ryujin says.

you venture to a different part of the house, trying to locate the stairs back down to ground level, but instead spotting a balcony. ryujin follows you here, where up close you realize it’s not empty.

the balcony is big—big enough to have several foldable lawn chairs strewn around, all occupied by various zooted-adjacent individuals. you and ryujin find a small opening against the railing, and you push up against it to feel the wind blow against your hair.

“men are shit,” you proclaim, apropos to nothing.

“men are shit,” ryujin agrees.

“you wanna smoke?” this voice is new, and it doesn’t belong to ryujin. it comes from your other side, and you turn slowly to appraise the person it originates from.

he’s holding a blunt out to you, a small thin thing between his thumb and pointer finger.

it’s jeong yunho. 

you don’t really know yunho, but you know him enough. he’s a friend of seonghwa’s, which means you’ve seen him at enough parties—been shoved next to him during rage cage, had him hold your hair back while you took a bong hit. he’s tall, with soft black hair, and has a tattoo of a dragon curled around his right forearm. there’s a perpetual lazy look to him—a smirk always playing at his lips.

he’s attractive, and he’s offering you a smoke from his blunt. you don’t think twice before you’re stepping closer, pressing your lips against the end of the blunt and inhaling. a low tsk comes from ryujin, but you focus on letting the sour smoke fill your lungs, all while you maintain eye contact with yunho.

“ryujin,” you say, coughing a little since it’s been a while since you’ve taken a direct hit. “can you get me some water?”

ryujin gives another tsk, but then you shoot her a look that she understands in an instance, and she slips away to “get you some water.”

you turn back to yunho.

“you looked like you needed it,” yunho says, taking a pull from the blunt and then blowing the smoke back out. 

you hum lightly, crossing your arms from both the night chill and because you know it makes your tits look better.

“you’re right.”

yunho holds the blunt back out to you, right in front of your mouth. you take another hit. this time you close your eyes and you breathe it back out, letting your head fall back and your hair hang loose.

“it’s nice,” you say. “thank you.”

“anytime,” yunho says.

you continue the back and forth of the blunt a few times, until you’re starting to really feel it, which is good because the blunt is practically finished, yunho barely pinching onto it after your puff.

“last one,” yunho says, a little breathy, and eyes more hooded than usual. 

on this last one, you meet yunho’s half-gaze and blow the smoke directly into his face. he’s closer than you really remember him being, but you don’t mind. he’s big and he blocks the wind. he flicks the stub of the blunt onto the ground, grinding it with the toe of his shoe. he raises his head back up to you.

“that was hot,” he says.

“i’ve always wanted to have high sex,” you say.

“i can make that happen,” he says.

he leads you to the stairs, down them, and out the front door with a surprising amount of clarity. meanwhile, you’re letting the sound of whatever chainsmokers song is playing drag you back to your high school days. an uber appears out of seemingly mid-air, and you’re suddenly in the backseat of a sedan. yunho’s shoving the armrest into the backseat and pulling you into him.

the ride is smooth, and you take it in turns to focus on different things. first, the dulcet sounds of a jazzy trumpet, fragmented and dusty because of the car’s worn speakers. second, the rushing of lights in the windows, leaving behind trails of white, yellow, a smear of blue.

finally, yunho’s hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles in that sliver of skin between your top and your jeans. it’s nice, makes you feel warm. you press deeper into his chest, your hand pressed into the cotton of his shirt.

he leads you up to his apartment and throws his keys into a ceramic bowl near the front door. 

“do you want water?” he asks, heading towards the kitchen like you hadn’t propositioned him fifteen minutes ago after sharing a blunt together.

“yeah,” you admit, when the full feeling of cotton mouth hits you.

after several gulps of the most delicious filtered water you’ve ever had, yunho’s crowding you into the countertop. he towers over you, but that works because you like feeling small, overpowered.

“you sure about this?” he asks, and if you weren’t high you would’ve said something about appreciating the ask for consent. instead, you lock your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height and pressing your lips against his.

the kiss is immediately intense, his tongue roving against yours, while his hands—jesus, they’re massive—press into your sides, palms hot and fingers digging.

“yes,” you say.

he picks you up effortlessly, and you manage to wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you into his room. he sets—no, throws—you down onto the mattress. you bounce a little and fall backwards onto the pillows. you’re getting ready to bite out a retort at being tossed aside so roughly when you see his face: calm, emotionless, but a distinct darkness in his eyes.

“fuck.” you mean it as a breath, but it comes out like a moan. 

yunho pounces.

he kisses you briefly, before descending to your neck, your collarbone. he’s pushing your top off your shoulder, mouthing at the flesh at the top of your breast.

“take it— take it off,” you say.

yunho obliges, sitting back to push your top up past your chest and over your head. he lingers there for a little longer, eyes running over your tits and your nipples hardening under his heavy gaze.

“hot,” he says. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“touch me,” you say.

he obliges, palming your tits and pinching your nipples. rolling them between his fingers and revelling at the way you keen under his touch. 

“sensitive?” he says, all breathy while watching you.

“y- yes,” you say. “the- the weed—”

“mmm, yeah, i know what you mean.”

you reach down to the button of your jeans, but yunho catches your hands and lifts them above your head. he presses into it, hovering over you.

“i’ll take care of you, princess,” he says. “be patient.”

this pulls a squeak out of you. the assertive tone, the pet name, combined with the way that it only takes one of his hands to lock your wrists in place—it’s new to you, but you’re suddenly so fucking desperate to get out of your pants.

the unoccupied hand goes to your jeans, and you close your eyes, as yunho deftly unbuttons it, but drags down the zipper slowly to reveal your mildly scandalous underwear: red and lacy with a little bow.

yunho whistles. “y/n. that’s kinda sexy.”

he releases your wrists to use both hands to slide your legs out of your jeans. he goes slow, trailing behind his hands with his lips, which leave a scorching trail of lazy kisses. he’s looking at you as he goes, his eyes never wavering. you almost blush from the heat of his glare.

“you shy?” yunho teases, reaching up to palm one of your tits. 

“no,” you say. “just- just ready.”

“mmm,” yunho says. “i told you, princess. be patient.”

in an instant, you’re suddenly on your stomach, bouncing again. your waist feels a little tender from where he gripped you hard to turn you over, and your head feels a little woozy from the sudden movement, but then you feel yunho tapping on the outside of your thigh.

“up.” one word, one syllable, but coated in dominance, and you’re on your knees in an instant, ass up.

“fuck, that’s a nice view,” you hear yunho say, and you feel his hands splay out on your cheeks. he squeezes a little and chuckles.

slap! 

you fall onto the mattress, arms slow to catch yourself. did he—? did he just smack your ass? the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done in bed was some light hair pulling, but you’re finding that you don’t mind the buzzing you feel in your ass right now.

in fact—

“oh.” it comes out like a whine, and yunho hisses in satisfaction.

“you like that, huh, princess?” yunho says, his voice low.

“mm.” you can’t manage words.

“good,” he says, but even then you can’t anticipate the next slap. it’s harsher this time, and you jerk from the touch. “gonna make ur ass red to match those panties.”

it’s filthy. the way he’s talking. you’ve only heard talk like this in porn, and you’d always thought it was overly scripted. but yunho’s just talking, eliciting tiny squeaks and squeals of surprise from you that you also have only heard in porn and thought was fake.

“p- please,” you say, lower lip trembling a little. you finally chance a look back at yunho, and you find him still completely clothed, kneeling on the bed behind you with his hands on your hips.

“please what?” yunho says, smirking.

“touch me,” you gulp.

“where?”

“here.” before you can overthink it you’re taking his much bigger hand and moving it to your core, to where your underwear is already soaked. 

“okay, princess,” yunho says. “since you asked nicely.”

he starts rubbing your clit over the fabric of your underwear, a feathery touch that still makes you shudder. his other hand slides up your back and settles between your shoulder blades, pressing you down into the mattress.

“stay still, okay?”

you whimper in response, because soon he’s pushing aside the crotch of your panties, teasing the pad of his finger at your dripping entrance.

and then he’s pushing not one, but two long fingers into you. the first thrust is slow, and you can feel your walls pulsing around the digits. the second, third, fourth thrusts are hard and fast, and his hand on your back is bruising.

“fuck,” yunho hisses. “so wet and tight, princess.”

“hnng,” is your reply, because yunho is hitting that spot in the back, and your thighs are quivering.

“turn around,” yunho commands. “i want to see you when you cum.”

you scramble to follow his direction, flipping onto your back and pulling your knees closer into you. yunho shoves fingers into your mouth before you have a chance to say anything, and you suck on instinct, lapping at his fingers and tasting yourself on them.

“fuck,” yunho says, and then he withdraws the fingers and pushes them back into your cunt. you stare down at his hand, at his arm—the one with the dragon tattoo wrapped around. at how the scales of the dragon dance with the veins of his forearm as he pistons his fingers into you.

you’re a babbling mess of whines and coos and squeals, and suddenly yunho’s other hand flies up to your throat.

“this okay?” yunho asks quietly. his voice is low, like he’s trying to be sultry, but you can tell he’s watching carefully to see your response.

this is new. you’ve never done this before. you’ve seen it, heard about it. 

you like it.

you nod, and yunho smirks.

his grip is loose, but this new pressure on your throat makes you a little dizzy, a little lightheaded, and makes the fluttering in your stomach speed up. both your hands come up to grip his arm, to feel the muscle beneath your fingers.

“i’m- i’m close,” you croak.

“good.” and yunho picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you until you feel that crest of nerve endings exploding. your back arches, your head falls back, your eyes close—the feeling ten times more intense than usual because of the weed in your system.

you collapse against the bed, breathing heavily and clenching around his fingers.

“fuck,” yunho whispers. “that was hot.”

he’s perched over you now, a hand on your cheek brushing your sweaty locks out of your face. he kisses your neck, softly.

“i- i want—” you have to pause to catch your breath.

“yeah, princess?” he grins at you.

“this,” you say, your hand cupping the very apparent tent in his pants. this takes yunho by surprise. he jerks, but your hand remains. you experiment with palming him a little, feeling how firm his cock is. how big it feels even under the thick strain of his pants.

“yeah?” he says.

“yes,” you say. “please.”

“ok, princess.”

he reaches behind his head to pull his shirt off by the collar. you blanch at the sight of his torso. lean, lithe muscle. another tattoo along the top of his ribcage that you’ve never seen before. black calligraphy strokes that spell out something in what you think is japanese.

“what does it say?” you say, before you can stop yourself. you run your fingers along the words, touch soft.

“nana korobi, ya oki,” he says, equally softly. “it means ‘fall down seven times, get up eight.’”

“it’s beautiful,” you say.

“not as beautiful as you,” yunho says, and he tugs your underwear down from your hips and off your legs. you suddenly remember exactly what you’d asked for.

“so. fucking. beautiful,” he continues, undoing his belt and throwing it aside. he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them halfway down his thighs. there’s a small wet patch on his briefs, but those are soon pulled down too to reveal—

he’s big. long but not too thick. the head of his cock flushed red and leaking pre-cum.

you feel your mouth inexplicably fill with saliva.

“you’re- you’re—”

“you can do it, princess,” he says, kicking off his briefs and jeans the rest of the way. “you can take it.”

you nod obediently.

he reaches over you for his bedside drawer, returning with a silver foil condom packet and a little plastic bottle of lube. he tears the condom open with his teeth, spitting out the corner and then rolling the thing down his length. you lay back, eyes up to the ceiling. you hear the distinct pop of the lube cap, hear a liquid sort of noise, and then you feel his fingers again. cold and a little slimy, probing at your entrance and briefly nudging at your sensitive clit.

“you ready?” he says, lining himself up.

“mm.”

he pushes in slowly, and it takes all of your willpower not to clench instinctively. he groans while he slides into you, and the pace allows you to feel every inch of him. the stretch is difficult at first, but the further in he gets, the less control he has and soon, he bottoms out.

“you can- you can move,” you say.

“don’t have to tell me twice, princess.”

yunho’s hands find your waist, grip it hard, and then he pulls back and thrusts in again, but still slow. you can feel his eyes on you, making sure his size doesn’t overwhelm you. as he builds up his pace, his hips snap against yours, filling the room with positively lewd sounds that combine with his deep breathing and grunts and your whimpers and whines.

he fucks you into the mattress, stretching you so deliciously.

you find one of his hands and lead it up to your throat. yunho’s eyes widen, but he wraps those long, perfect fingers around your neck, grip tighter this time.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, princess,” yunho says. “taking my cock like that. such a good fucking girl—fuck!”

you’re overstimulated, but in the best way. lightheaded from the choking, sensitive everywhere from the weed, and so turned on from yunho’s praise. you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of being so thoroughly fucked.

as yunho pounds into you, he starts cooing and moaning about how good you look, how good you sound, how good you feel.

“yeah? you like that, princess? yeah—let me hear you. tell me how good i’m fucking you. fuck—your pussy is perfect. like you were fucking made for me. such a perfect princess.”

you can’t tell if you’re close to another orgasm, or if this is just all one long extended orgasm. all you know is that your body is buzzing with pleasure, and you feel really fucking good.

eventually, yunho’s thrusts grow faster and more erratic. he gives one final push and stays buried in you, chest rising and falling.

he pulls out slowly, checking to make sure the condom worked.

“fuck, that was good,” he says, breathless.

“yeah,” you agree, boneless.

yunho swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking off the condom and tying it up before throwing it into a trash can. you’re a bit miffed that he is already fully operational, while you feel like you had all of your inner organs rearranged.

“give me a sec, princess,” he says, as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants. “i’ll get you some water and get you cleaned up. just relax.”

your head still feels a little woozy, but you slowly come back to your senses as you hear yunho bustle around outside. finally, he comes back into the room guzzling a chilled bottle of water. he recaps it and hands it to you. you drink deeply as you feel yunho wipe at your thighs with something warm and wet. the cool water reinvigorates your throat after having yunho’s hand pressed against it. 

“you good?” he says. “i wasn’t too hard or anything?”

“no,” you say. “no, it was good. i liked it.”

“good girl,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting your head. it’s mildly patronizing, and but you’re to tired to retort back. 

he shifts deeper onto the bed to lean back against the headboard, running his fingers along your spine. it’s relaxing and—together with the water—helps you ground yourself as you feel the last remnants of weed and arousal fog clear from your mind.

“you like jongho, right?” he asks, apropos to nothing.

you choke. you spend the next few seconds spluttering and coughing while yunho rubs your back soothingly.

“i don’t- why are you—?”

“that’s why you were all sad at first, right?” yunho says. “on the balcony?”

you stare at him, finally able to breathe properly.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t like me.”

yunho hums. “i don’t know about that—” and he pinches your back when you open your mouth to protest “—but i don’t mind being your fuck buddy while you get over him.”

you purse your lips. truth be told it was good sex, but your… thing for jongho isn’t something that you can just get over with a couple good fucks and some weed. you don’t know how to tell yunho—someone you’ve only really ever been around either drunk or high or both—about pulling all-nighters with jongho to finish your homework together, sleepy and giggly and delirious; or how he knows your coffee order without ever having asked; or the way his eyes crinkle when you show him a funny meme.

so, you settle with a small smile and a peck to yunho’s jaw.

“i’ll consider it,” you say, and you get up to start redressing. you’re sobering up properly now, and the flimsy top you’d been wearing before feels a little scandalous for your current mental state. after hesitating briefly, you grab yunho’s discarded top and put it on.

“well shit, when you do stuff like that,” yunho says, running his eyes over how his shirt dwarfs you.

“i’m- i’m cold,” you mutter.

yunho just laughs, ruffling his hair.

“hey—you hungry?”

he takes you to the 24/7 burger joint just outside his apartment, harsh fluorescent lights and greasy air doing their best to sober you up even more. he orders and pays for you, while you slide into a corner booth to avoid anyone seeing how utterly fucked out you look: hair in a messy bun to hide the knots, body swimming in yunho’s shirt, mascara smeared under your eyes, and hand constantly on your neck to cover up the massive hickey you discovered while peeing—when had yunho even given it to you?

yunho scoots into the seat opposite you with a handful of napkins and a little paper cup of spicy ketchup. after you receive your tray of food, you and yunho spend the next fifteen minutes talking about the basics when you both realize that you don’t know much about each other.

it’s easy to talk to yunho, whose light chuckles and lazy smiles are comforting. while you might not take him up on the fuck buddy proposal, you just might keep him around as a friend.

you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and you reach for it to see a text from san, asking if you’re okay.

to: san

[1:40 AM] yeah i’m good

[1:40 AM] actually can u come pick me up. i’m at the burger place on 8th.

from: san

[1:42 AM] yeah omw

you slip the phone back into your jeans while you sip on your soda.

“san’s coming to get me,” you tell yunho.

“oh, cool,” yunho says. “yeah i was gonna offer to take you home or something—it’s so late.”

you hum, warming in appreciation for yunho’s intent. he really isn’t a bad guy—not that you’d thought that before. he’s always been a neutral acquaintance, but you’re really starting to enjoy his company now.

“thanks,” you say. “for the food, and—the other stuff.” 

yunho laughs.

“you’re cute,” he says, tapping the tip of your nose with a greasy finger. you dab at it with a crinkly brown napkin.

ten minutes later, your phone vibrates again to indicate that san is outside in a silver uber. you thank yunho again, and even give him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, your face flaming as you turn away from him to leave the diner.

when you throw open the door of the car, you find not san, but—

choi jongho, stuffed into the backseat with a slight flush on his cheeks and a loose grin. you stare at him, and he stares back. the only empty seat is in the middle.

“scoot,” you say.

“i’m too big for the middle seat,” he says, but he doesn’t make any moves to exit the vehicle to give you the space to slide into the car. you nudge him. “just climb over me.”

a low string of curses leave your mouth as you reluctantly clamber around his big frame and into the middle seat, where you finally see san sitting on the other side. you’re so preoccupied with greeting him and thanking him for coming to get you that you don’t notice jongho’s eyes narrowing at the shirt you’re wearing—yunho’s.

“you coming to our place or going home?” san asks.

the words your place are on the tip of your tongue when you look back at jongho, noticing now a small red bruise blossoming just under his jaw. this causes you to snap a hand to your own hickey, which you hope is hidden by the shadows.

“home,” you say quietly. “ryujin’s probably waiting for me.”

the uber starts up again, and you lean your head back onto the headrest, determinedly avoiding jongho’s gaze. you know that you just went off to hook-up with someone random, but it doesn’t sting any less that apparently jongho was doing exactly the same thing.

at that moment, your phone lights up with a new text.

from: unknown number

[1:59 am] hmu whenever, princess ;)

continued in chained (c. jh)!

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 11)

A/N: oh my god guys I finally wrote the next part! Please like it lol. I did see this as the end of the story but I purposely kept it open so if I ever did want to write more I could

Special shoutout to @lunargrrrl because without you saying that you loved this story I probably wouldn't have even touched it for at least another month (I love your writing so much I would do anything for you)

Word count:

Warnings: oral sex, scissoring, little bit of angst?

Taglist: 3440

@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos @dorabledewdroop @toomanylesbiancouples @accidentally-made-a-sideblog @chiar4anna @lonelyhalfwitch @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna (sorry if I forgot you or if I put you twice, I just copied and pasted the taglist from the part 10 and then whoever said they wanted to be on it recently)

“Hey!” You call after your step-mom as she struts through the parking lot back to her car, never breaking a stride, leaving you to chase after. “Agatha, wait!” 

She doesn’t even turn around, just unlocks the door and slides in, and she’s turning on the car when you finally make it into the passenger seat. 

You’re a little out of breath, so you take a moment to compose yourself. Agatha is staring forward, hands gripped on the steering wheel. “What was that?” You’re finally able to ask. 

Her knuckles turn white but she doesn’t answer. She shifts into drive and pulls forward and you can see how tightly her jaw is clenched. 

“Agatha, will you please talk to me?” You’re begging at this point, you don’t know what else to do, because something is wrong. That wasn’t her plan. 

Although, neither was fucking you in the bathroom. 

Your body betrays you and the concern you’re supposed to be feeling right now and heats up at the memory. You can still feel her thrusting inside you, your hips hitting the cold sink top, her hand wound in your hair making you watch yourself get absolutely railed by her. 

Stop. 

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, to get your mind out of the gutter, and Agatha finally pulls into the driveway of her house. 

It’s a good sign she didn’t take you back to your mom’s house, you suppose. She slams the car door after she gets out and storms into the house, you following hot on her heels. 

Agatha goes right to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. She takes a long sip and a deep inhale, and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she opens her eyes, she finally looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time. 

“I’m sorry I did that with you there,” she says and you almost laugh. Is that what she was upset about? 

You shake your head and steal the glass from her, taking a gulp and wincing at the bitter taste. Agatha raises an eyebrow at your blatant underage drinking in front of her, but says nothing. You swallow the wine hard and make a face. “Don’t be. It was kind of hot,” you admit, and she chuckles humorlessly. And then a thought dawns on you. “Wait, do you think he’s going to think something happened in the bathroom? Cause we both went, and then you came out and said you wanted a divorce.” 

There’s a glint in Agatha’s eye. “You really think he’s going to assume that I fucked my stepdaughter against the sink in a restaurant bathroom and then decided to break things off?” 

“Well…” You trail off, the leap to that conclusion seeming a bit implausible, especially for him. Your dad has a hard time focusing on things that aren’t himself. “Seems like we’re in the clear, at least.” 

Agatha snorts and drains the rest of the wine. There’s still something off about her, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice softening. “I mean, are we okay? I know we said earlier that we didn’t know what this would mean for us –” 

She cuts you off by slamming the glass down on the countertop so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t break and then closes her eyes to take a deep breath. You freeze. “I’m sorry,” Agatha says eventually, but it’s unclear if she’s apologizing for the reaction or for something else. Maybe for the whole thing between you? 

There’s an uneasy feeling that starts to grow in your stomach. Is she going to break things off with you too? 

Not that there’s anything to break off, is there? It hasn’t even been that long since this thing started, but it’s been intense. More intense than anything you’ve ever felt. 

You know that it might kill you if she walks away now. 

“Do you not want this?” Your question is like a stab to your gut, you’ve never sounded smaller in your life, and your heart pounds heavily in your chest while you wait for an answer. You need to know.

Agatha’s hands fidget on the counter, it looks like she wants to pour herself another glass of wine, but she refrains. “We can talk about what happens next later,” she says levelly and walks away without another word. 

The pit in your stomach only grows. How did you go from being fucked by Agatha’s strap not even an hour ago to this cold distance between you? She had been so possessive, so inflamed by the thought that you would even entertain another woman. 

The sound of her footsteps recedes up the stairs. What does she expect you to do? She picked you up from your mom’s house, and you can’t exactly call her to come get you. 

So you go upstairs and find Agatha in her bedroom, swiping at her face while she’s throwing clothes into a suitcase. You momentarily lose your train of thought when she slides open a drawer and you see about a dozen sets of lacy lingerie. 

Agatha clears it out and dumps it into the suitcase. 

And then your brows furrow in confusion. “Wait, you’re moving out? Why not make my dad?” 

She looks at you like she didn’t even realize you had come in. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get an apartment closer to my job. Your dad can do whatever he wants with this place, he’s the one that wanted it in the first place.” 

“Oh. Okay,” you say, a little dumbfounded. Everything is happening so fast, completely spinning out of control, and you don’t know what to make of it. She spares you another glance before standing up and moving to clear out her nightstand. 

She takes out a vibrator and the rope she tied you up with just yesterday and places them on top of the lingerie. 

“At least we don’t have to worry about my dad catching us anymore, right?” You try to joke, but definitely not the time or place.

Agatha stiffens. “Honey,” she starts, and you know you’re not going to like this. 

“No,” you interrupt. “You’re getting divorced. We don’t have to sneak around anymore, or at least not as much. I like you, Agatha, and I don’t know how you feel about me–” 

“I’m leaving your father because of you,” she snaps and it’s like you’ve been slapped in the face. A thick silence settles over the two of you and you can see how hard she’s clenching her jaw. 

“What?” You whisper. “He’s having an affair, I feel like that should be your main priority.” But your heart is beating fast and you feel like you’re getting close to getting something real from her. 

She rolls her eyes and faces you directly. “Obviously. But I was thinking about it before. He’s not the only one who’s been having an affair here.” Was she leaving him because it’s the right thing to do? Or–

“So…” The pieces are scrambling to connect in your mind. “You want to be with me?” 

Agatha scoffs like the idea is ridiculous. “Be with the eighteen year old about to go off to college and find plenty of girls her own age to fuck?” 

She’s insecure? You can tell Agatha doesn’t completely understand how she’s feeling either, you can see the storm brewing in her eyes. She’s conflicted, torn between her own feelings. 

You walk over to where she’s standing and put your hands on her shoulders. Agatha doesn’t even meet your eyes. But then you slide your hands down her arms, onto her hips, and sink down to your knees. 

Now she looks at you and swallows hard. You can see the effect you’re having on her, her blown out pupils, and it only spurs you on. 

Your fingers fiddle with the zipper on your pants, carefully watching her face for any sign of hesitation. You drag the zipper down slowly and she helps you take off her pants and steps out of them like she’s in a trance. She’s still wearing the strap-on, it still smells like you – fuck, don’t get distracted. 

You loosen the harness and slide that down her legs too before leaning in and nipping at her thigh. 

“Let me show you how much I don’t want someone my own age?” You offer, gazing at her through your eyelashes. 

Her hand tangles in your hair and you let out a quiet gasp. “Go ahead, babygirl,” she says in a low voice, the voice that always gets you going, and pushes your head in-between her legs. 

It’s a bit of an awkward position, with her standing above you, stance slightly widened with you on the ground in front of her, but you make it work. 

You flatten your tongue and lick through her folds, collecting her wetness and moaning at the taste. It’s something you’ll never get tired of. You think you could easily spend hours eating Agatha out, and that’s something you’d like to try if she lets you. 

When your tongue flicks against her clit, her hand tightens in your hair and she lets out a moan and you do it again, desperate to please, desperate to hear more sounds fall from her lips. She lets out a little gasp when you suck on her clit, and you do it harder. Agatha’s hips jerk and she tugs on your hair, causing you to moan against her pussy. 

“God, honey, right there,” she says hoarsely and you double-down on your efforts, rubbing your tongue up and down over her clit while maintaining eye contact. Her groan is deep and she keeps brushing away the hair that falls over your face so she can see you. 

Your hands trace her thighs, the front and the back, and you dig your nails into the skin, leaving crescent indentations. The muscles in her legs tighten and she tries to roll her hips against your face but the position you two are in makes that challenging. 

So she steps back, your tongue still moving instinctively even though her pussy is gone, and you whine her name. 

She smirks and runs a hand through her hair, collecting herself for a second. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy just wants to move to the bed.” 

Agatha walks to her bed, sits and leans back, spreading her legs for you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of her dripping cunt that was on your face not a minute earlier and you move to stand up, but she stops you. 

“Stay on your knees,” she orders and you clench around nothing. The carpet is rough on your skin, but you can feel yourself getting wetter from her intense but appreciative gaze as you practically crawl across the room for her. 

You finally get to her and you push open her legs even more, first deciding to kiss up the length of each inner thigh. She shakes beneath you, especially when you get close to the heat between them, and she gasps when you nip at the pale skin. And then you dive back into her pussy, thrusting your tongue inside her, and she’s able to grind much more on your face without fear of falling over when she’s sitting like this. 

Your stepmom rides your face and all you have to do is open your mouth and stick out your tongue and she does the rest; she drags her pussy all over, small huffs falling out of her mouth at the exertion. Agatha takes what she needs from you until you can feel her clenching and her hips start to falter – she’s getting closer. 

You slide your hands around the backs of her thighs and pull her even closer to you so you can take over, sucking roughly on her clit and then curling your tongue inside her and repeating, all while Agatha moans uncontrollably above you, her hips jerking with each touch to her clit. 

“Fuck, babygirl, right there,” she chokes out, you can feel her throbbing, feel her walls fluttering around your tongue, and you don’t change a thing about what you’re doing, keeping the same pace and speed to gradually build up her orgasm. You can feel her body getting tighter and tenser and you know she’s about to cum. 

You give her one last filthy lick up the length of her pussy and then suck on her clit harshly, and she cums all over your face, getting it absolutely soaked. 

As if you’d ever complain about that. Agatha looks so hot coming apart for you like that, and you can’t believe she’d ever think you’d rather have a college hook-up than her. 

It takes her a moment to recover, but when she tilts your chin up, you beam at her, and you can still see the heat in her eyes. 

And even though she just fucked you hard in the bathroom, you need more too. You surge up off your knees and almost knock her backwards with the force and capture her lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and lips. 

She groans at the taste of herself on you and you straddle her lap, pushing a thigh between hers so you’re both able to grind on each other while you kiss. Her hands hike up the dress you’re still wearing so she can cup your ass and guide you on her leg, pushing you down harder against her, and you have to break away from her mouth to moan. Your underwear is absolutely soaked and clinging to you, almost getting uncomfortable. 

Your fingers fumble with buttons on her silky button-down and eventually you get so exasperated that you just rip it, buttons flying everywhere around the room. Agatha chuckles in amusement and tugs on your underwear, and you reluctantly get off her for a second to take it off. 

But then you climb back on her, your lips finding hers again, and this time when her hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer, she does fall back with how hard you’re grinding and kissing. 

You don’t care. Instead, you get an idea. You’ve never tried it before, but it seems like this would be the perfect time to. 

Sitting back up, you ignore Agatha’s confused look and chew on your lip. She lets you angle one of her legs up and over your hip, while you put your other leg over hers. When your eyes flick back up to Agatha’s, you can see recognition on her face and she looks positively excited. 

And then with a deep breath, you lower yourself down and a gasp escapes your mouth when your cunt touches hers. 

“Fuck, honey,” Agatha says and you have to pause before you become overwhelmed with pleasure. 

You slowly roll your hips and you both moan. “Mommy,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” 

Her hands settle on your waist while you lean forward, bracketing her head with your arms, and she helps you move against her, your wetness mixing with hers and making it easy to slide against each other. 

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you are,” Agatha murmurs, maybe more to herself than to you, but there’s no denying how much effect those words have on you. Your clit pulses and you keen, your movements becoming sloppy, but Agatha’s hips rise to meet yours and there’s an absolute mess between the two of you in no time. 

Your head drops down so you can pepper kisses against her chest and sternum, mouthing at her breasts through her lacy, gray bra. Agatha jerks beneath you, her clit stroking against yours and you pant hotly against her skin. 

“Mommy,” you whisper, your head starting to spin with how good it feels. Her wetness, being able to feel all of her so intimately, her ragged breathing, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest. You drag your tongue over the skin at her bra line and her back arches off the bed.

Your limbs are entangled and the movements become short ruts against each other, hands flying from cheeks to hips to breasts to thighs and you can feel the tension building in your stomach. Agatha is getting closer, too, she’s breathing into your open mouth and the only sounds in the room are the two of you moaning and the slickness of your wetness. 

“Fuck, right there,” Agatha says tightly, your clit finding hers, and the two of you grind just like that, the stimulation almost too good. “God, sweetheart, you feel so good.” 

Your hips stammer and she pulls you in for a kiss, strokes her tongue into your mouth, and you cum all over her pussy, the dam inside you exploding. Pleasure races through your veins and you think your mind goes blank for a second, absolutely no thoughts except for Agatha. 

She follows shortly after, her body twitching under yours and you can feel her orgasm as she rides it out against you. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever felt, and the embers of the heat inside your stomach flicker. 

You stay on top of her for a minute or two, just soaking in the feeling of her against you like that. 

And then Agatha stiffens. “I don’t know if your dad is coming home tonight, but we should probably get cleaned up.” You groan at her mentioning your dad right now, right after possibly the best sex you’ve had in your life, but she has a point. 

You get off her and find your underwear, sliding it back on and fixing your appearance in the mirror. Agatha gives you a wolfish grin and a low whistle at your reflection and you roll your eyes playfully. 

She pulls on an entirely new outfit, her pants strewn on the floor somewhere and her shirt completely ripped open, and then she washes off the strap in the sink and puts that in her suitcase, too. 

It’s as you’re following her downstairs, carrying the other suitcase she quickly packed in your hands, when your dad opens the front door, looking flustered. 

“Agatha, please, talk to me,” he begs when he sees the two of you, eyes darting in confusion between you, probably wondering what you’re doing. Your stepmom walks right past him, and you awkwardly follow. “Sweet pea,” he says, this time referring to you. “What is going on?” 

“I know you’ve been cheating,” Agatha says, pausing when she gets to the door to whirl back around to face him. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach and you almost laugh. “I’m getting a hotel tonight, and then I’ll look for an apartment. You can have everything in this house. I’ll be talking to my lawyer tomorrow.” 

It’s the quickest settlement you’ve ever seen. When your parents got divorced, they had gone back and forth for months, bickering over the smallest things like blankets and game boards. You couldn’t be more relieved that Agatha just wants a clean break and no hassle. 

She opens the door and walks out of it, you only two steps behind, and you close it after you’re both outside, ignoring your dad’s calls for you to come back. 

You both wordlessly walk to her car and she opens the trunk to put her suitcases in. She didn’t pack all of her stuff, she will still need to come back and get the rest of her clothes and whatnot, but it’s a good start. You’re more than willing to come back by yourself and get the rest of her belongings, too. 

Agatha gets into the driver’s seat and you slide into the passenger’s. It doesn’t seem to be a question that you’re coming with her. 

“I know you don’t really want to talk about what happens next for us,” you say quietly, needing to get some things off your chest. “We don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But just know that I’m not going to do what he did, or throw you away like that. I really like you, Agatha. And if it’s just like this for however long this lasts, I’m okay with that. I just want you.” 

Her eyes stay on the road and her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she won’t. 

But then her hand slips down across the center console and interlocks her fingers with yours and she squeezes. You can see the hint of a smile ghosting her face. 

You squeeze back. That’s all the answer you need. 

[skipper1331]

Crash // Alessia Russo

Request: hey, could you please write some angst for alessia if possible.

a/n: hope u like it :))

warnings: car crash

"Where are you taking me?" Alessia grumbled with her arms crossed as she sat in the passengers seat, not amused by the fact that she sat in the passenger seat.

"You know, I don‘t like it when you drive" she added, her frown only deepening.

Playfully offended, you gasped, "are you saying I’m not a good driver?"

She turned to you, answering dead serious, "yes!" she crumbled under the glare she got in return, your raised eyebrow never a good sign "no" she mumbled, her fingers slowly interviewing with yours. "It‘s my job to drive you around, not the other way around" the striker continued to ramble about the situation while you just smiled to yourself.

Usually, Alessia was always sat behind the steering wheel, driving you to your destinations. And though, you were able to drive yourself (license in your wallet since years) the blonde insisted on driving you every time. She even drove you to appointments that didn't involve her, such as coffee dates with your friends or else. She loved driving and especially driving you around or you just seated in the passenger seat.

"But I’ve a surprise for you, so relax" you smiled, "you‘re even allowed to be dj" you grinned, the blonde always complaining that you wouldn’t even play one song of her choice.

"You‘ve got the passenger princess privileges, use them, love"

Alessia grumbled something before she connected her phone, her playlist starting to play. "You‘re lucky you‘re cute"

You had something really nice planned which she would definitely enjoy. Lately, everything has been stressful with your studies and all the exams that were coming up. And Lessi had shown nothing but love and support during this time, which is why you wanted to do something special as a thank you.

Everything was perfect so far, the blonde slowly accepting the fact that you sat behind the steering wheel instead of her, the conversation flowing easily as always until suddenly a car appeared out of nowhere, hitting your side with a force.

That’s the last thing you remember.

-

"Is she okay?" Alessia asked the medic with a raspy shaky voice, panic radiating of her body. She didn‘t know where you were. The ambulance left immediately with you, everything happening so fast. One second, she was telling you about the derby and in the other second, the car left the road and hit a tree.

"Ma‘am, you need to sit." The medic ordered as Alessia attempted to get up, hissing in pain. Her arm and shoulder hurt awfully, her face slightly bloody as it trickled down her forehead and nose.

"No! I need to know! She wasn‘t speaking, her eyes were closed! I- i don’t know"

The medics tried to calm her down the best they could, but it didn‘t help much.

After a short examination of her, the second ambulance left for the hospital.

-

In the hospital, Alessia went through several checks. Her arm was broken but thankfully it was a straight and simple fraction and nothing splintered. Her cuts were taken care of, only the large one on her forehead needing stitches. "You were very lucky" the doctor explained, also explaining the rest of her treatment and more. But Alessia couldn’t listen, all she could think about was you.

Are you alright? Are you alive? Where are you? What was happening?

"What about my wife? Is she alright? Please tell me she‘s alright" Alessia begged, tears streaming down her face.

-

Alessia sat next to your bed, holding your hand, praying that you would open your eyes. Just anything.

She sat there for hours, not leaving your side at all. Each time a nurse came in, the blonde wanted to know everything. What were they doing? What meant this sound or that? Are you getting better? Anything. The thought of you not waking up was terrifying her.

"Lessi, i think you should go for a walk. Grab a coffee and some fresh air" her mother ordered, sensing that her daughter was thinking too much, holding your hand tightly.

"I can’t" she replied, her eyes not leaving your face.

"Less, she‘s right. As soon as something happens, we‘ll tell you immediately. I promise" your mother joined the conversation now.

"Ok-ay" in trance she stood up, walking backwards to the door, her eyes not leaving yours until she was out of the room.

When Alessia came back, nothing had happened (she hadn‘t even been gone for 5 minutes) yet she was disappointed. This was her worst nightmare.

She wasn’t able to protect you.

You looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed, so fragile. It broke her heart.

In the evening, her mum and your mum said their good bye to the girl, promising to come back in the morning, Alessia still refusing to leave your side and to sleep at home. She couldn’t.

You needed her.

-

You woke up in a bright room, groaning in pain. Looking around, you saw Carol sitting on a chair, reading a magazine. "Hey, you’re up" the magazine was long forgotten as she was at your side, offering you some water.

"Less" you rasped. You fiddled with the duvet, memories flashing in front of your eyes.

Car.

Tree.

Blood.

Less.

"Stay" her mother ordered, already calling the nurse.

"Where‘s Lessi?" you cried in pain, scared and terrified.

"Love!" Alessia‘s eyes widened as she re-entered your room, only gone for a minute to use the bathroom. "You‘re awake" she was at your side in an instant, holding your hand and rapidly kissing it. The other hand trying her best to cradle your head with the cast, "how are you feeling?"

"I‘m so sorry" you cried, "your car" you sobbed.

"I don’t care about the car right now" she stated firmly, wiping away the tears.

"You love your Mercedes"

"I don’t care about that stupid car. You‘re awake!" her voice slightly raised by all the emotions she was feeling.

In that moment a nurse came in, checking all things before the doctor joined, explaining everything and the following steps.

Carol left after the medical team had gone out of the room, sensing that both of you needed a minute alone, calling your mother to let her know what the doctor said.

"I‘ll pay you back, i promise" you refused to look at her, ashamed that the one time you were driving of course something had to happen.

"Look at me, please" she pleaded, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t seen your open eyes in days and now you refused to look at her. She couldn’t handle it. The lack of you in the last few days had been awful for her and not knowing if you would ever wake up, had been more than terrifying. It was a feeling she wouldn’t want anybody to feel. This fear, the feeling of not being able to breathe, as if her chest was constricting with every movement. And then the thoughts. Mentally she couldn't find rest because she hoped, prayed and mourned. There were too many emotions at once and the strongest of them was the most unpredictable - love. What would you do out of love?

When you looked at her, you realized how scared she must have been the last few days.

"Please don‘t cry" you whispered as you saw the tears, the exhaustion on her face and her injuries, "i thought-" she hiccuped, all feelings bubbling to the surface.

"I love you, i don‘t care about the Mercedes, okay? All i care about is you and that you‘re alive. That‘s all that ever matters to me" her hands cupped your cheeks, crying even more.

"Come here" groaning in pain, you scooted to the side, "stop moving. what are you doing!" Lessi asked with wide eyes, panic in her expression.

"Come here, please" with the pout on your face, she just couldn’t say no. She needed this just as much as you did. You leaned against her, head resting on her shoulder as your hand held her shirt, seeking comfort in her touch.

"I‘m sorry for driving, i just wanted to do something special" you whispered, "i never wanted to get you hurt" you mumbled, scared, exhausted and still in pain after everything.

"No more of that. We can worry about everything later, right now i just need you close" she replied, her tightening her grip around you (not even to hurt you), slowly calming down.

You were alive.

You were in her arms.

You were alive.

She couldn’t care less about her car or about your surprise or literally anything else in this world.

All that mattered was you.

"I love you so so much."

Everything was going to be okay.

It was you and her against the world.

And she would support you on every step of the way of your recovery because that‘s what wives do. In sickness and in health just like she had promised.

Like the doctor said, "it‘s going to take its time but you‘ll fully recover" and that’s what Alessia held onto. Because sometimes the only thing that helps is hope. Alessia’s hopes and believes were stronger than her fears. Hope was stronger than any fear, especially when it came to the life of a loved one. Someone that was you. Someone who’s loved so deeply by Alessia and everyone around you. Your wife never gave up, never lost her hope and faith in you and your strength. Because if she had done so, she might had lost herself at the same time.

Love was unconditional and unpredictable - that‘s what made it special.

And Alessia truly did love you, more than anything in this world (and definitely more than her Mercedes)

[ofbatsandballads]

please take this. I made myself cry writing it and I have nothing to say except that putting ya’aburnee and darling by halsey on my jason playlist was a brutal choice. also look up flower language if you want additional feelings.

There’s so many things you want for Jason Todd.

You want him to get a good night’s sleep for once. You let him close his pretty seafoam eyes and lay his head in the crook of your neck as you scratch gently at his scalp. It always calms him down, grounds him in the here and now. Your arms around him, your fingers carding through his hair, the rise and fall of your chest that’s synced with his–it all reminds him that he’s safe, that he’s home. You want that feeling to follow him into his dreams, to let him find true rest. So when his body goes tense and his breathing gets labored, you hold him closer and hum gently into his ear until whatever haunts him in his sleep is chased away by the comfort you bring.

You want to make sure he’s protected. You wish you could deflect every hit, blade, and bullet away from his body. You wish he would see his body as something worth protecting. He would stop if you asked, would settle into a normal life as best as he could. You would never ask because to do so would be to deny the part of him you love most: his heart that beats to help others. So you protect him in the ways that you can. You stitch cuts and treat burns, you mend his jackets and help clean his guns. More than anything, you guard his peace of mind like it���s the most valuable thing in the world. You’re never cruel to him, never scream vicious words or toss him out into the cold night. You call Bruce and thank him for the first edition Jane Austen novels that arrived on your doorstep on August 16th when Jason just…can’t. You let him grip your hand brutally tight under the table when you go to the manor for Thanksgiving for the first time. And when it gets really bad? When he feels the burning of green waters that breathed life into him that he didn’t want, when hideous laughter echoes in a place it’s never been? You do something no one has ever done for him. You wait. You stay. You stay by his side until he can breathe again, until dawn breaks and he can see the light again. And always, always you, haloed in it like an angel he doesn’t think he deserves. He does.

You want him to have a good cup of hot chocolate. He told you about it once when he came home after a long winter patrol. Half delirious from exhaustion, he reminisced about how Bruce would make them both a cup of hot chocolate after particularly rough or successful patrols in December. How this specific hot chocolate had no equal—even Alfred couldn’t replicate the richness and warmth. You noticed the fondness in his voice, the longing so intense that it still makes your heart ache for him. So you do some light stalking and hunt down Tim Drake, demand that he give you the information you want or else you’ll disclose how he really lost his spleen to Bruce (why he was dense enough to tell Jason, you’ll never know). And that is how Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist single father and the Batman, receives an email with the subject line “URGENT: Recipe Request” that reads as follows:

To whom it may concern,

I have been made aware that you have a remarkably compelling hot chocolate recipe that is hitherto unparalleled by cafes, franchises, and butlers alike. I am emailing you to inquire about my being sent this recipe post-haste. This is less a request than a demand. I will do my best to ensure that you, at some point in time not specified (it will take great effort on my part), are able to witness the consumption of the hot chocolate by the individual that will be receiving the product of the recipe.

Best regards,

Someone who loves your son.

Bruce sends the recipe the second he receives the email. He has to sneak his phone under the conference table at the Wayne Enterprises board meeting to do it, but he still manages to reply in two minutes and forty-seven seconds. And you make good on your promise. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jason shine as brightly as he does that Christmas, lit up by the lights on the twelve foot tree as he sips his hot chocolate from the same red mug that’s been sitting in the kitchen cabinet since he last drank from it. The matching black mug is clasped in the hands of the hot chocolate connoisseur himself, who smiles softly like the magic of the season has returned to his life for the first time in ages.

You want him to heal. It’s a big ask; you know that. But you’ve never been one for giving up hope, and if anyone can manage to achieve the impossible, it’s Jason. So you tell him it’s a great idea when he jokes about getting a therapist. You wait for him in the car the first time he goes and you let him open up to you in his own time when he comes out of the appointment body tight as a bowstring and eyes bloodshot. You watch quietly and celebrate the little victories you see him win. He can call his father first now; he doesn’t do it often, but he can. He can talk to his younger brother without hating his hands and the blood that’s been spilled on them, without going out on patrol and intentionally letting all the worst hits make contact. He can go out to lunch with his older brother and his youngest, can laugh with them over that ridiculous thing Bruce did at a gala once to make them all laugh. He can bear his birthday a little bit better now, can accept the cake you bake and actually make a wish when he blows out the candles. But you’ll never know about the moment that you start to get what you want. Jason goes to visit his own grave on the anniversary of his death and finds a bouquet of red carnations, baby’s breath, and honeysuckle with a note in your handwriting that reads “Someone told me once that you were magic, that that was the best thing about you. I think it’s far more important that you were loved. I don’t know what you could’ve been. I don’t wonder about it like those that loved you did because all I know is who you became. He’s wonderful. He’s still magic. I think you’d be proud of him. I’ll do my best to take care of him for you.” He sits there for an hour in tears. Then he takes one bud of each flower and the note, goes home and presses them into the pages of his favorite book. He holds you in his arms in bed that night and feels, for the first time in a long time, a sense of peace down to his very bones.

You want—above all else—Jason Todd to feel loved. You want him to feel so cherished and wanted that he cannot possibly look at himself without realizing that he is something precious, something beloved. So you tell him that you love him and you accept his warm embrace as his way of saying it back. You make him chocolate chip cookies and sneak one into the pocket of his tactical pants when he goes on patrol (they’re soft, they don’t get crunched when he’s thrown from a roof). You read his favorite books to understand what he’s saying when he goes off on tangents about class and social hierarchy and how they governed life in the 19th century. You trace his scars and kiss away his tears when he can’t believe that he could be transformed from a being marred by brutality into a man revered with gentleness. You will love him until the day you both die. You will love him in death, until whatever atoms made up you and him come together again. You will love him until everything that ever is or ever was ceases to be in a supernova of light. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll love him in whatever is born after.

[revelboo]

if you take requests my soul for megatron recieving oral 🙏 if not dw about it + your writing is really good, the characterisation is stellar

After all the BS I put him through, he does deserve some fun (which he will get eventually after all the drama)

Everything Is Alright scenario pack

18+ Scenarios mass displaced mechs 🌶️

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

Megatron

• Shifting in his sprawl, one corner of his mouth twitches into an indulgent smile as his servos ruffle through your hair. Likes the way you look kneeling between his spread thighs, your cheek against his thigh waiting for permission. Behaving. Mostly. Swallowing a growl when those soft fingers stroke over his plating, dip into the sensitive seams at the inside of his thigh. But maybe he’s made you wait long enough?

• “Alright, pet,” he rumbles, shuddering when you run the tip of your tongue along the seam inside his thigh, his deep voice strained and lovely. Teasing him because you love to see the mighty warlord come undone under your hands and mouth. And he finally frees his spike, optics half shuttered as he watches you wrap your hands around him, thumb sliding along the underside. Biting back a smile when he groans as you trace a seam with your tongue before taking the head into your mouth.

• Venting raggedly as his head falls back, his servos thread into your hair as that wet, little mouth works his spike. Do you have any idea how hard it is to not buck his hips? To not force you to swallow more of him? “You can take more,” he growls, hips lifting slightly as your head slowly bobs to take him, that wet suction almost too much coupled with those soft hands gripping him, stroking. His other hand grips the arm of his throne as he grits his denta. “Such a good, pet.” He groans, shallowly rocking his hips when your tongue slides against him. And then his servos cup the back of your head as he overloads, feeling you swallow as much as you can before you pull away with a gasp. Reaching to pull you into his lap, his optics narrow as you wipe your chin with a thumb and lick it clean. Primus, you’re amazing.

Starscream

• Watching you squirm as he catches your wrists and pins them over your head, his head tips to study the way you look like that. Helpless and at his mercy, trusting yourself to him. Shifting to more fully cage you under him, he uses a knee to nudge your thighs further apart and settles himself against you, spike sliding against you and finding you’re already so wet for him. The other two may touch you, claim you, but you’re his. You’ve been his from the start. Always will be. “This is mine.”

• “Yours,” you agree as the head of his spike slides against you again. Teasing both of you as his servos keep your arms pinned over your head. Sometimes he ties your wrists, sometimes he just holds them in one big hand. Know he likes being in control, dominating and you’re okay with stroking that ego of his among other things. “Need you.” And he finally buries himself inside you in one deep stroke. That familiar spike stretching you as his hips buck against you to make you moan.

• Keeping his thrusts slow and deliberate, his wings flare slightly. Because lost in the feel of your body under his, he can forget about everything else. Let the world narrow down until it’s only the two of you finding pleasure in each other. Taking his time finding that angle that makes you gasp and whimper as he enjoys the way your wet heat grips his spike. Nothing else matters but this moment. You.

Soundwave

• Hadn’t even heard him sneak up behind you, but you feel him, big hands on your hips, encouraging you down on your hands and knees. Something about the fact that the stoic, gentle Soundwave loves taking you this way, hard and fast, strings you tight. And you don’t need any urging to lift your hips for him in invitation. Wanting to feel his spike stretch you. For him to lose control inside you.

• How do you know just what he needs? Kneeling behind you, he grips your hips and sheaths himself with a tonal groan. Managing to keep the first few thrusts slow, but then you push back to meet him and he’s yanking you back as he pounds into you. Driven by the frantic urge to claim you, breed you. And there’s the overwhelming urge to shift the plating protecting his spark, to spark you again. Would you let him? Can’t be as gentle as he’d like as your need spills into him, drugging him with your emotions and his own desires.

• Bucking back against him, his servos tighten on your hips so hard you know there’ll be bruises. And then he’s thrusting harder, spike driving deep before you feel him release inside you and he drapes himself against your back. Don’t hear the soft click of his mask retracting, but you feel his denta grip your shoulder to hold you in place as he braces himself over you on a hand, the other sliding over your belly. Not even bothered that he left you behind in his urgency, because you know he’s not nearly done with you. He never is. Hear him groan right before his plating shifts at your back and his spark snares you, then you’re coming apart as he begins moving inside you again. Knowing exactly what he’s doing as you rock back to meet his sharp thrusts, wanting it.

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[brandileigh2003]

Sometimes I feel have wondered if it's silly that fandom is such a comfort to be and that I'm a grown adult and spend so much time reading fics, writing fics and talking to people about fics.

So this means a lot to see.

Bc I know really, that it's not bad and there's nothing wrong with it. I've met lovely people bc of it.

But someone else may need to see it too

This might sound silly, but anything that makes you want to stick around on this godawful earth any longer is worth it. Fandom is worth it. Talking about your favorite characters is worth it. Imagining silly little stories or angst to process your grief is worth it. Please do whatever you need to do to stay alive. Fight for joy in the places you can find it. Your community wouldn’t be the same without you

[justkitkatthings]

OH MY GOD OR THIS https://www.tumblr.com/justkitkatthings/768357089618903040/i-know-this-isnt-possible-but-just-hear-me-out-a AND READER WHO BECOMES THE ONE WHO INCLUDES SIMON IN EVERYTHING OR IS NOT SNAPPY TOWARDS HIM???

YES ANON THAT'S WHERE I WAS THINKING OF TAKING IT!!! That or making them all in a poly relationship (because I did tag it as that) if I continue this but idk how to write for that, so just lmk what everyone wants because I fear I AM a people pleaser.

ANYWAYS, HERE’S PT 2

———

It was stupid, really. Sure, you had to relearn how to walk and run and drive and kneel down and do a push up, etc etc. But, like, after you did all that (with the help of some physical therapy and Just Dance) it was like nothing changed.

And it wasn't like it was your fault the bottom half of your leg got blown up. The least they could do was let you keep your job!

To make things worse, John, Kyle, and Johnny seemed extra busy nowadays. Or maybe it's just because of your replacement, which John is adamant about you meeting. It’s how you find yourself in the base you used to call home several years ago, with your old family practically smothering you in affection. It was less of you meeting this new guy and more of a reunion, which is how you wanted to keep it.

At least, at first.

You liked having the attention and affection of your three best friends, but you could only stand so many of the longing gazes from the brooding man before you cracked. He looked… kind of hurt, and definitely lonely.

He looked like you, almost.

As much as you tried, you can’t resist those big brown eyes and slumped broad shoulders. The night you finally cracked, everyone was drinking. Your stump was hurting and John, Kyle, and Johnny were too drunk to carry you, so you were stuck with Simon.

He picked you up with ease and you thought that it was done there, until he quietly spoke up.

“Why do you hate me?”

You’ve never heard his voice sound this small and vulnerable before. This wasn’t a big tank of a man asking you that, it was a scared and insecure child. Yep. Yep, definitely looks like you.

“I don’t hate you.” You huff and roll your eyes, but it’s not like you can do much while trapped in his arms.

“You act like it.” He countered with a petulant pout, or what you think is one, covered by the mask.

It's not fair! He can’t do that to you. His stupid pout and his stupid, strong, steady arms were going to be the death of you. He pulled on your heartstrings so hard, he made you take him under your wing (which is ironic, because he’s larger and older than you).

You didn’t act like you hated him for too long after that. Someone finally gave him the comfort he never got from anyone else, you offered him kind words and gentle touches, and now he’s stuck to you like glue. Soon enough, you’re spending more time with him than with John, Kyle, and Johnny.

You can’t say you hate it. The two of you understand each other more than anyone else ever could. It’s not that the other three don’t understand you both, it's just that you understand each other more.

No one will ever take that away from you. No one will ever take him away from you.

[robynhoodwrites]

˚｡❆ Rivals to Lovers ˚｡❆

Request: "Can I request a rivals to lovers fic (with smut if you will) about Zayne and MC where they live in a normal world, and they're both in med school?"

This will be written from the reader (aka the MC's) point of view. The MC will be AFAB, but will be referred to with they/them pronouns.

Minors DNI! This writing contains the following: smut, vaginal penetration, medical discussions, blood (in a medical setting), rivals to lovers, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, fellatio, switch!Zayne and switch!reader.

My heels clack loudly against the clean, tiled floors of the hospital. The sound echoes down the hallway, and I cringe internally at the fact that I’m practically announcing my presence. I hear a yawn sound from one of the receptionists behind me, hoping that the coffee now coursing through me is enough to keep me awake.

“Morning!” One of the nurses, Tara, smiles at me. She stops where she’s walking, seemingly trying to start a conversation.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t have time right now!” I breathe, my heart pounding as I pick up the pace. She frowns slightly, her chest deflating. “We can meet for lunch later! Promise!” I yell behind me, and she just laughs and continues walking to where she’s going.

This meeting isn’t necessarily important, but I haven’t earned the title “overachiever” for nothing. If I make it earlier than everyone else, it shows initiative. And initiative means I’m better than the others, which means I get the internship, which means I get a good job in the future, which means-

I’m almost at the door when I notice Zayne across the hallway. We had been in the same medical program for the last year, but only recently has he become such a pain in my ass. It seemed like no matter what grade I got, he matched it (or, God forbid, his was higher). It had become somewhat of an unspoken competition between us to see who would end up on top.

He seems to notice me, his eyes meeting mine from the other side of the hall. He looks at the door and then back at me before speeding up, his eyes now sporting a determined glare. I do the same, the clacking of my heels reaching insane speeds.

Even with the newfound speed, I am nowhere as fast as Zayne. Screw these stupid heels and Zayne’s long ass legs. I’m right behind him when he throws open the door, letting it start to close behind him as he enters the conference room before me.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” I mutter, and he seems to hear me, chuckling to himself.

“Zayne, nice to see you here bright and early,” our boss, Dr. Jenna says. Her eyes then flick to me, smiling. “Oh, and good to see you here early, too. You two have some real initiative.”

I silently thank the universe that coming in second has not put a blot on my record. It’s then that Zayne puts down his backpack, producing a coffee from the cupholder sewn to the side of it. “You like the cold brew, right?” he asks, handing her the coffee.

“Aw, Zayne, you shouldn’t have!” Jenna smiles, grabbing the drink from his hand and taking a sip with a content look on her face. Fuck, that’s genius. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Of course, Doctor Jenna. I cannot imagine how tired you must be, considering the fact that you’re working and taking the time to teach us. I don’t know how you do it,” Zayne gushes, and Jenna just smiles wider and thanks him before going back to writing on the whiteboard.

Zayne turns back to where I am standing, a stupid smirk lining his face. He sticks up two hands, one making the shape of a “zero” and the other creating a “one”.

Zayne: 1. Me: 0.

He winks as he goes to sit in his spot in the front row. Other students finally begin filing in, and I rush to take my spot in the front next to Zayne. “Really laying it on thick, huh?” I mutter, and he chuckles again.

“Maybe if you did the same, you wouldn’t be losing,” he whispers back, reclining in his chair nonchalantly.

“I don’t need to kiss ass. My superior doctoring skills will get me that internship,” I tease, mockingly reclining like him. He shows no sign that he’s noticed, instead deciding to unpack his notebook and pencil from his backpack.

“The points are saying otherwise,” he responds, opening his notebook to a fresh page. He writes down our names at the top of the page, putting a tally mark next to his own.

“That’s what this is to you? A game?” I ask, huffing out a breath of frustration. “There are 5 spots for the internship. We can both get it! There’s no need to fight me for it.” I am thoroughly enjoying the competition, but it’s not as fun when I’m the one that’s losing.

“I am not going to settle for mediocrity. I want to get chosen for the internship not just because she wants me there, but because she needs me there,” he tells me, stating it like it’s a fact. I suppose I understand that, but I am never going to let him hear me admit that.

“Where did this vanity come from, Zayne? I swear, you seemed so docile when I met you last year,” I tease. Rather than answer me, he looks down at the paper in front of him. “Or do you only act vain when you’re threatened? Am I a threat to you, Zayne?”

He doesn't respond. In fact, he acts like he hasn't heard me. Instead, he sticks out his hand, seeming to be asking for a handshake. “May the best doctor win,” he says confidently, and I grasp his hand firmly. It’s strangely warm, his long fingers holding my own tightly.

“I will,” I say back, letting go of his hand and turning to face the board. Before he can say something in retaliation, Doctor Jenna clears her throat and the class goes silent.

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By the last 10 minutes of class, I’ve nearly filled three pages with notes, front and back. The notes are nowhere near clean or pretty looking, but they’ll work for when I’m studying later. Dr. Jenna has started reviewing some of the information from the last class, which means I can zone out for a moment and let my brain take a break.

I spin my pen in my fingers, my eyes blurred as I think about absolutely nothing for the first time in a while. The peace doesn’t last, though. I hear a small rustle in front of me and look down to see a folded sheet of notebook paper.

I turn to look at Zayne, the most likely suspect. However, he’s looking straight ahead at the board in a focused manner, his eyes not meeting mine. I look back down at the paper curiously, finally relenting and unfolding it in front of me.

The paper has a messy stick figure drawing on the top, showing a tall man with dark hair and glasses holding a trophy. It’s nowhere near artist quality, but something about it makes me chuckle. I glance over at Zayne, who can’t help the smile now spreading across his face.

I click open my pen, drawing my own stick figure masterpiece under his. I surround his drawing with a thought bubble before drawing a picture of Zayne sleeping soundly underneath. Under his sleeping stick figure, I write “In your dreams!” before folding the paper neatly and handing it back to him.

He hesitates for a moment, waiting until Jenna’s back is turned before carefully unfolding the drawing. He snorts, covering his mouth with his hand quickly. I just keep looking forward at the whiteboard, listening to him hastily scribble on the paper before sliding it back to me.

I roll my eyes, unfolding the paper yet again. Zayne��s familiar, neat writing lines the page underneath my drawing. “You’re one to talk about dreams. What are you daydreaming about over there while Dr. Jenna teaches?”

He noticed that?  I feel a weird flutter in my chest, but I push it down as I write my own message underneath his. “Just plotting my victory,” I write, checking to make sure Jenna’s back is turned before handing it to him.

A moment passes before the note lands back on my desk, the paper filled with more of Zayne’s neat, looping letters. “If you spend all class thinking about how to beat me, you’ll never pass your tests.”

I write back quickly, my messy scrawl in stark contrast to Zayne’s clear writing. “And if you spend all class staring at me, you’ll never get the internship.” I pass the note back to Zayne, keeping my eyes glued to the board as he takes in a sharp breath. He hesitates, slowly writing his next response before going to pass it back to me.

“Zayne, no passing notes in class. Put it away,” Jenna snaps, and I see Zayne’s face go pale. He crumples up the note, throwing it into his backpack. He mutters an apology under his breath, his pale face now growing a deep shade of red.

“Yeah, Zayne, I’m trying to learn,” I say, loud enough for Jenna to hear. She nods, throwing Zayne another sharp look before turning back to the board. Zayne shoots me a glare, his jaw clenched in annoyance. I wink at him, before shooting a quick glance at the board to see if Jenna is looking.

When her back is turned, I lean in closer to him, delighting in the quick breath he sucks in. I bring my pen to the top of his paper, adding a point under my name. “One to one,” I whisper, before leaning back and letting my focus return to the board.

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I yawn as I put some quarters into the vending machine, watching as it shoots an energy drink down towards the bottom. I grab it, quickly opening it and gulping down as much as I can. It was nearly the end of my shift, and a long day of shadowing doctors has left an ache in my feet and a pain in my back. I can’t wait to go home and sleep…

“Hey,” I hear a familiar voice say from behind me, and I turn to see Zayne standing impatiently behind me. I gulp, pulling the energy drink away from my mouth and thinking of what to say to the intimidating man in front of me.

 In class, he is just like any other student. But, when working in the clinic, he’s… different. His lab coat perfectly frames his tall figure, his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. He’s always sitting when he's in class, but during clinic duty, he towers over me.

“Listen, I’m sorry for throwing you under the bus. I didn’t-” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“I’m not here about that. Well played, by the way,” he admits, and I feel that flutter in my chest again. “Jenna wants us in her office. Wants our opinion on something before we clock out.”

I nod, unable to stop a relieved breath from leaving my lungs. I chug down the rest of my energy drink, crushing the can in my hands before throwing it away. He chuckles and turns to walk towards the office. I follow close behind, not too keen on letting him beat me to something again.

When we finally reach the office, he pauses a moment before going in. Then, much to my surprise, he holds the door open for me. I just stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he could possibly gain from this.

“It’s not a trick,” he says reassuringly. “I just want to be a bit kind to you before I wipe the floor with you in this consult.” There it is. I stick out my tongue at him, not caring how childish I look. He shakes his head as I walk past him, muttering something about good sportsmanship.

Jenna is waiting for us in her office, a whiteboard standing on stilts in front of her as she chews on the end of her pen. When we enter, she turns to us with a smile on her face. A few more students pile in behind us and Jenna begins writing on the whiteboard.

“Alright, students. We had a patient come in with a hurt leg. She presents with hypersensitivity to touch as well as tendonitis and high calcium,” Jenna explains, writing the symptoms on the whiteboard in front of her. She pauses, turning back around to face us. “What do we do?”

“It could be an adenoma,” Zayne offers, and I curse myself for not being quick enough.

“That’s true, but it could be a multitude of things. Maybe kidney problems or a vitamin D intoxication?” I offer, and Jenna writes all of our suggestions down on the whiteboard.

“True, but I think the adenoma is still the best option. If not that, it could also be hyperthyroidism,” Zayne shoots back, and Jenna writes hyperthyroidism on the board. I begin to hit him with another response, but Jenna interrupts before I can.

“I believe an adenoma is the most likely cause. Good work, Dr. Zayne. What should we do with this information?” Jenna asks us, and I nearly punch Zayne when he speaks before I can.

“We’ll have to test her blood for PTH, phosphorus, and ionized calcium.”

“Very good, Zayne,” Jenna says, before turning to me. “And if those tests come back normal, we’ll start on your theory. Good work to you both,” she says, circling “adenoma” on the whiteboard. Zayne shoots me a sly smile, now holding up a two on one hand and a one on the other. I flip him off, and he chuckles to himself.

“Since the labs are closed for the night, they’ll have to process the blood in the morning. I’ll page you guys as soon as I get the results,” Jenna says, waving a hand to dismiss us. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

We all file out of the office, and I pause in the hallway for a moment. If I test the blood tonight, it will get her the results faster. And, more importantly, it will make me look amazing…

I turn down the hallway, my heels clacking against the tiled floors once again as I quickly make my way down to the lab. I scan my card against the door, sighing in relief when I notice that the lab is empty. I throw my backpack down on a chair, hurrying to the refrigerator at the back of the room and quickly scanning for the right vial.

The door swings open behind me, somebody else rushing in before pausing in shock. “Shit!” The voice mutters, and I turn to find Zayne in front of me, his eyes narrowed. “I should’ve known you would have the same idea,” he seethes, and I smile at the annoyed look on his face. He throws his backpack down, his notebook and a few papers spilling out onto the ground as he moves closer to me.

“You may have had the same idea, but I came up with it first,” I tell him, clutching the vial of blood in my hands. I turn and close the door to the fridge and when I turn back around, Zayne is much closer than before. I attempt to move away, but he blocks me in with his arms.

“Give me the vial,” he practically orders, and I can’t help but scoff at him.

“Wow, you really are a sore loser. Whatever happened to ‘may the best doctor win’?” I ask, and he doesn’t react. Rather than relent, he just sits there with his arms trapping me against the refrigerator. “Zayne?” I ask, now breathing a bit heavily under the man's piercing gaze.

In a moment of courage I did not know I possessed, I lean forward on my tiptoes until my mouth is next to his ear. “You lost this round. Let it go,” I whisper, and I swear he isn’t breathing as I lower myself back to my original position. He stays for a moment longer before finally letting his arms fall to rest at his sides.

I exhale a breath that I didn’t know I was holding, finally relaxing my tense shoulders. Zayne walks over to one of the counters, quickly putting on gloves before walking over to the machine sitting in the corner.

“Zayne, what are you doing?” I ask, and he doesn’t look up as he begins removing tools from the drawer next to him.

“Oh, just cleaning the centrifuge. It’s been a while since anyone has really given it a good scrub down.”

I pause, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from cursing him out. “Zayne, that’s the machine I need to use,” I say through gritted teeth. Zayne looks up at me from where he is disassembling the machine, false shock covering his face.

“Oh, is it? What a shame. Looks like you’ll have to do those tests tomorrow, instead.” He goes back to disassembling the centrifuge, a small (and annoying) smile now spreading across his face.

“You absolutely childish-” I begin, stopping to take a breath before I say something worse. I let out a sigh, rubbing my temples as I let my temper cool. “We’ll do the tests together. Share the credit. Is that good enough for you?” I groan, and he stops what he’s doing to face me.

“That’s an incredible idea. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it,” he says mockingly, and I nearly spit on him out of anger. This manipulative, conniving… He starts putting the machine back together, and I walk over to where he is standing to put the vial on a stand next to him.

“This is so incredibly unfair,” I whine, and he chuckles to himself. He turns to face me yet again, his eyes staring daggers into me from only inches away.

“You started this when you threw me under the bus in class, you know.” I suppose I deserve that. He finishes reassembling the machine, putting the vial in and pressing a button on the front. The centrifuge starts with a beep, and the blood begins spinning in its vial.

 I don’t say anything, moving away from him to grab some supplies from the cabinet above me. My attempt to reach the pipettes on the top shelf is in vain, and I stand on my tiptoes as I try to reach it. I hop slightly, barely reaching the corner of the box and coming back down empty-handed.

Zayne moves next to me, reaching up with ease and grabbing the box. He grabs a pipette and returns the box, holding the pipette out in his hands for me to take. Before I can touch it, he grabs my wrist tightly. I gasp, and he drops my arm almost instantly. Damn… wait, why did I enjoy that?  I push these strange feelings down, instead looking up at him inquisitively.

“Gloves,” he explains, and I curse under my breath. “You’ve been in this program for two years, yet you forget something as simple as gloves.”

“I was a bit distracted, Zayne. It’s not every day I am cornered in the lab by another doctor,” I say, and he smiles as he throws me a box of gloves.

“If I don’t keep you on your toes, then this competition will be boring. If I’m going to win so easily, I might as well have a bit of fun.” He turns back to the centrifuge, which has now stopped spinning.

“Prick,” I mutter, and he chuckles as he pulls the vial from the machine. He hands me the vial and the pipette before grabbing the microscope down from the cabinets above us. I carefully pipe out a few drops of blood before handing him the vial to put in the next machine.

I drop the blood onto a slide, placing it under the microscope before peering into it. I start to adjust the settings, the blood coming into focus as I turn each knob. I feel warm breath on my neck and flinch slightly at the sudden intrusion. I didn’t even hear him walk over here.

“Well?” He asks, his voice soft as his breath continues to dance across the skin of my neck. I don’t respond, the fluttering in my chest getting worse. Any attempt to pay attention to the blood in front of me is abandoned, my attention instead drawn to the warm presence looming behind me.

“Let me look,” he mutters, and I move out of the way quickly to let him peer into the microscope. I exhale a shaky breath, steadying myself against the counter. Why did that affect me the way that it did?

Zayne hums under his breath, moving the dials on the side of the microscope with intense focus. “Grab me my notebook, will you?” He asks, and I mutter something about not being his servant before turning around and doing exactly what he asked.

His backpack, having been thrown in his rush to beat me, is lying on the floor. His notebook is on the ground, as well as several papers that had come flying out during the landing. I bend down to pick them all up, my eyes catching on a crumpled ball of paper lying near his notebook. Is that…?

I quickly unravel the paper ball, staring blankly as I realize what it is. Our notes from class. My eyes scan over the paper, smiling to myself as I think about my victory over him in that class period. My eyes reach the bottom of the paper, realizing that I never got to read the final thing he wrote to me.

“And if you spend all class staring at me, you’ll never get the internship,” my messy writing reads. His beautiful, loopy letters are lined underneath it, and I gasp as I finally process the words.

“How could I not spend the class staring at you? You’re so beautiful when you’re lost in thought.”

That now-familiar fluttering returns to my chest, this time with a thundering rhythm. I somehow feel both excited and nauseous at the same time, my head swirling with so many emotions. I definitely like him, don’t I?

I gulp down some air before picking up his notebook, letting our notes sit on the top as I walk nervously over to where he is standing. His eyes are still on the blood, but he lifts his head as he hears me approaching. I hand him the notebook, our notes being the first thing he sees as he looks down.

He pauses, his breath seemingly caught in his throat. “You think I’m beautiful?” I ask, and he looks back up to me with wide eyes. “Or are you just saying that to ‘keep me on my toes’?” I ask, and he pauses for a moment before responding.

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” I feel a warmth spread across my cheeks, and I pray that I’m not blushing as much as I think I am. I push the notebook into his arms, not saying anything as I turn back to the microscope.

I attempt to keep my focus on the task at hand, trying to ignore the rampant pounding of my heart. Zayne drops the notebook onto the table next to us, his breath now resuming its place on the back of my neck. I can’t help but lean into his warmth, and he puts his arms on either side of me to rest on the counter.

“What do you see?” He asks, his voice husky in my ear. I try to focus, not wanting to let him know how much control he has over me. If he knows how affected I am, he’ll win. I inhale a shaky breath, bringing my eyes down to the blood in front of me.

“I-it looks… normal. To me, at least,” I mutter, and he moves back a bit so that I can turn around and face him. His sharp gaze never leaves my face, glancing slowly from my eyes to my lips.

“I noticed that, too. Looks like you might have been right,” he hisses, and despite the frown on his face, another emotion seems to glimmer in his eyes. The air between us is thick, his face mere inches from mine. His breath smells sweet, with light notes of peppermint dancing across it.

Heels clack, somebody quickly approaching from down the hallway, and Zayne quickly moves away from me as the door to the lab opens. Jenna enters, her eyes wide as she notes our presence in the room. Thanks for moving, Zayne.

“You two? I should’ve known you would be here. Such hard workers,” she praises, and I smile nervously as my blush grows deeper.

“Thank you, Doctor. We wanted to get a head start on that blood for the patient with the hurt leg,” Zayne tells her, and I nod along with him. Jenna nods, placing her purse down on the table by the door.

“I’m here for the same reason, actually. Any news?” She asks, seemingly unaware of the tense scene she had walked in on.

“We’re still waiting on one last test, but it appears that they were right. No adenoma,” Zayne admits, and I am floored by how easily he has admitted defeat. Jenna just nods in response, taking a sip out of her coffee mug before putting on some gloves of her own.

“Great work, you two. I’ll wait for that last test. Go home and get some rest,” she tells us, and Zayne opens his mouth to argue. “No, I insist. You guys don’t get paid for overtime, and I do. It’s better for everyone,” she winks, and Zayne concedes defeat. We grab our backpacks, thanking Jenna profusely as we leave the lab and enter the hallway.

Zayne doesn’t say a word as we walk down the hall, and I consider several different things I can say. “I win?” No, maybe “I told you so?” Or should I just leave it alone? I open my mouth to say something, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me into a dark room before I can begin.

“Zayne-” I begin, but he shushes me as locks the door behind him with a click. We are in one of the empty patient rooms, a clean and perfectly made bed sitting in the center of the room. He quickly shuts the curtains to the room, leaving only the small lamp in the corner to illuminate us.

I open my mouth to ask him what he’s doing, but he’s on me before I can get a single word out. His lips press against my own, almost hungry as bites my bottom lip. I can’t help but moan into his mouth, my lips moving aggressively against his as he pushes me against the door behind me.

One of his hands finds my hair, pulling slightly on my ponytail, which coaxes another moan from my mouth. His other hand finds the side of my face, pulling me even closer to him as his tongue sweeps across my bottom lip. I part my lips, letting him search my mouth with a ferocity I’ve never seen from him before.

I pull away for air, and he groans impatiently. “Zayne, where is this coming from?” I ask as he begins moving his lips down my face and onto my neck. A mewl escapes from my parted lips as he finds a particular spot in the crook of my neck, sucking on it roughly. “Zayne!” I say again, practically breathing out his name.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now,” he whispers in between his kisses on my neck. “I love how aggressive you get, and how competitive you are... And- fuck- the way you talk to me? So bratty,” he moans out the last word, nipping at my neck with his teeth. I let out a yelp, and he licks the bite apologetically.

He pauses, looking up at me from where he is kissing my neck. “This is okay, right?” He asks, his eyes almost pleading. I scoff, pushing his head back towards my neck.

“Better than okay, Zayne.”

He groans against me, kissing me once more on the neck before tearing the lab coat off of my shoulders. He takes his off as well, licking along the column of my neck as he throws it to the floor. Without warning, he puts his arms around my bottom and lifts me in the air. I gasp, and he walks us over to the hospital bed as he presses another aggressive kiss on my lips.

He lays me on the bed, hiking my skirt up until my entire lower half is exposed. My underwear is now soaked, and he seems to notice almost immediately. A grin spreads across his face as he feels me through my underwear, the friction of the fabric against my clit making me hiss in a breath.

“We’ve only just started, and you’re already so wet for me,” he murmurs, a hint of pride in his voice. I try to think of something snarky to say, but his finger feeling me through my underwear sends another jolt of pleasure through my body.

He chuckles darkly, pulling his hand away. I let out a whine of protest, but his hands move up to his neck as he begins to loosen his tie. I watch the tendons in his hands flex, the beauty of just this small part of him enough to captivate me. He notices me staring, slowing his movements as his long, dexterous fingers untie the knot around his neck.

“I want those in me so bad,” I admit, and he smirks as he finally takes off his tie. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, each release of a button showing me more and more of his toned torso. He doesn’t take the shirt all the way off, instead choosing to let his lay open against his chest.

“Your turn,” he mutters, eyeing my clothed chest with impatience. I take the hint, quickly moving my fingers to unbutton my shirt. I manage to get most of them unbuttoned, my bare breasts finally exposed to the cold hospital air. Before I can finish unbuttoning it, though, Zayne pounces.

His thumb finds my nipple, already peaked due to the chill of the hospital room. He tweaks the tip of my nipple, sending a shiver down my spine as I arch my chest up into him. “So eager,” he moans, doing the same to the other nipple.

He lowers his head, taking one of my nipples in his warm mouth as he kneads my other breast with his hand. I curse as his tongue circles my nipple, the pleasure rippling through my body in waves. I almost beg him to come back when he finally pulls away, but he moves too quickly for me to get a word out.

His thumb hooks on my soaked underwear, pulling it down my legs before throwing it in the pile of lab coats next to him. He pauses, slowly rolling up his sleeves as I lay utterly bare before him. The sight alone sends another wave of pleasure through me. His eyes never leave me, finally rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and exposing his toned forearms.

He bends down on the floor in front of me, gripping my legs and pulling me towards the edge of the bed. I yelp in surprise, attempting to close my legs. He forces them back open with ease, positioning himself in between my legs as he looks up at me.

“Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He smiles, lowering his head down until his warm breath is dancing across my exposed pussy. I shiver, and he finally licks up my vagina until he reaches my clit. I shudder out a breath as his tongue swirls circles around it, moving torturously slowly. He brings his hand up to where he is working, slowly pushing a finger in and letting it curl inside me.

“F-Fuck, Zayne,” I moan, my hand coming down to find his hair and grabbing tightly. He just moans in response, the vibration against my clit sending me reeling. He puts a second finger inside me, massaging my walls with delectable pressure. I pull harder on his hair, which only makes him thrust into me with more intensity.

“You’re doing such a good job,” he moans into me, before resuming the work of his tongue on my clit. I feel my orgasm finally begin to build, the tension in my lower half beginning to reach its peak.

“Zayne, please,” I mutter, but my pleas are not enough. He pulls away, leaving me feeling empty as the cold air hits my exposed cunt. “Z-Zayne,” I whine, and he just makes a tsk noise.

“So needy,” he tells me, and I whine again as I feel my orgasm start to retreat. I hear the clink of metal and watch as he begins to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather from the loops of his belt and letting it fall to the floor. He quickly unbuttons his slacks, letting them hit the floor at his feet.

All that’s left are his boxers, the only thing keeping me from what I want. When he doesn’t take them off, I sit up and move to take them off myself, kneeling down on the ground in front of him. He just grabs my wrists, making that tsk noise yet again.

“Patience is one of the most important traits a doctor can have, you know,” he murmurs, taking a moment to rub his thumb over my swollen lips.

“Says the guy fucking me in a doctor's office instead of asking me on a date first,” I answer back, taking his thumb in my mouth and sucking on it teasingly. He rolls his eyes, but he can’t quite hide the hunger now sparkling in them.

He pulls down the boxers, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side impatiently. His length is now fully exposed, and I almost start to feel nauseous just from the idea of it going in me. “There’s no way,” I whine, and he seems to think this is hilarious.

He pushes the tip of his dick towards me until it is tapping against my lips, rubbing teasing circles until I finally take him in my mouth. I take in just the tip, letting my tongue catch the small dots of precum and swirling my tongue around teasingly. He twitches at each rotation, and I can’t help but smile onto his cock.

I start to move slowly down the shaft, but there is no way I am fitting it in its entirety down my throat. Instead, I bring my hands to the bit left over and massage it roughly, my head bobbing faster as his hands reach my ponytail.

“F-fuck,” he manages to groan, his hand grasping my ponytail tightly as he helps move me up and down his length. His movements get sloppier, his legs shaking as his release approaches faster and faster with each bob.

Before he can finish, I pull my mouth off of him with a sinful pop. I stand back up, staring directly into his eyes as he looks down at me. Sweat is dripping from his hair now, a few shivers still racking his body as he stands bare in front of me. His cock is throbbing, and I watch as his pleading eyes turn to pure lust.

He pushes me back onto the hospital bed, and as I turn to try and escape, he manages to catch me around the waist. My back is now to him, my ass pressed firmly against his rigid length behind me. I can’t help but moan, letting him tease me by grinding into my backside.

“Please,” he whispers, his lips touching my ear as he pleads into it. He pauses for a moment, biting down lightly on my earlobe. “I can’t wait any longer. I need to feel you now,” he mutters again, letting one of his hands move back to my clit.

I lift my head over my shoulder, managing to reach his lips with my own as I give him a small peck. He presses his finger down harder on my clit, and I let my head fall again as I grow weak from pleasure.

“Say it,” he pleads again, his finger rubbing circles on me with a delectable pressure. I struggle to find the words, breathless from his length still grinding against my backside.

“P-please, fuck me. Oh G-God,” I manage to mumble out, and he doesn’t wait a second longer before he bends me over. His dick finds my folds, rubbing against them teasingly before slowly sliding into me.

He starts with just the tip, easing in and out a few times before finally pushing himself in fully. I have to bite back the scream that threatens to escape from me, the sensation of suddenly being so full of him almost too much to handle.

His thighs slap against my ass as he thrusts in again, his fingers digging into my hips as he moves me on him. I can already feel his fingers leaving bruises on me, and I suddenly feel grateful that the lab coat covers so much of my body when I wear it.

One of his hands finds its way up to my ponytail, yanking back on it roughly and sending my face upwards. He groans again, using my hair to help him thrust in even deeper than before. His cock rams over and over again into my G-spot, the release in my stomach building more with every thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his hand leaving my hair and instead moving around my waist. It presses down on my stomach, making my walls even tighter around him. He shudders, his arms wrapping around me in something close to a hug as he continues pounding into me.

I’ve nearly reached my peak when he brings his hand back down towards my clit. Rubbing quick circles around it as he thrusts even faster. It hits me, nearly blindingly, and I feel my body start to spasm. My legs are shaking, my orgasm making me clench tighter around his cock.

He lets out a curse, nearly whimpering as he finally falls apart. His grip around me tightens as he finishes, shooting deep inside me and somehow filling me up even more. He continues thrusting, his cock now throbbing as he finally slows down.

We let the spasms run their course, each of our bodies twitching from the sheer pleasure of it all. I finally collapse, his large body moving to cradle mine in the twin-sized hospital bed below us. Our foreheads touch as he presses a soft kiss to my lips, sweat dripping from both of us as he smiles stupidly at me.

“I’ve never seen you so disheveled before. You’re usually so well put together,” I mumble, marveling at the way the top student in our class heaves out a shaky breath and caresses my face with his hand. He kisses my lips again before trailing the kisses back down to my neck.

As he kisses the bruised spot on my neck, I lean down and put my mouth right next to his ear.

“Zayne: 2. Me: 2,” I whisper, and he stops kissing my neck immediately. He looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine with a deadly seriousness.

“Looks like we’ll need a tiebreaker then, huh?”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, and he just gives me a devilish grin before trailing the kisses back down my neck, moving lower with each one.

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THANKS FOR READING GUYS! And thank you to the person who left this ask. I had so much fun researching for this one and ended up texting my biochemistry major friend to ask for help (hiiiiiii Rich, if you're reading this).

I'll have the other asks I've received posted soon, I promise!

-Robbie

[macgyvermedical]

Okay, this is not about writing. I want to learn basic first aid and how to assemble a first aid kit. I plan to search for some courses too, but I’d like a clear idea before diving in. I’d love to hear your advice on it. Always grateful for your blog— it’s such a valuable resource.

Hi!

First aid kits contain things that would be handy to have for an illness or injury you didn't forsee happening.

Store-bought first aid kits have gotten a little better than they were when I bought my first one in 2015, but they're still a complete crapshoot. Most of them contain the least adhesive bandages known to man, a pair of plastic tweezers, a single packet of gauze, two each of acetaminophen and ibuprofen, and if you're extra lucky, some plastic medical tape.

Which is great for: papercuts in fingers that don't sweat ever, cleaning tiny scrapes that don't need bandages, the perfect size of partially embedded splinters, and one (1) single headache. Maybe.

My advice: make your own.

The following are 2 options for lists of supplies:

The Basic Kit:

3-4 pairs of nitrile gloves that will fit over your sweaty, hand-sanitizer-covered hands (mediums if your hands are really tiny, otherwise larges)

1-2 disposable masks for if you get sick unexpectedly

Your favorite adhesive bandages (at least 20, in different sizes including extra large)

A breathing barrier for CPR

A zipper plastic bag

A small container of hand sanitizer

A small container of petroleum jelly

A small tube of hydrocortisone cream

Metal tweezers (and a few alcohol wipes to clean them)

Like 4 of whatever hard candy you hate the most (or 4-8 glucose tablets)

One of those fold-up pill containers containing at least 10 each of: acetaminophen, ibuprofen, 81mg aspirin, diphenhydramine, your favorite non-drowsy antihistamine, and loperamide (Label these. You're not gonna remember which is which. Promise.)

A few each of all the medications you take, just in case you forget them (especially emergency medications)

The Adventure Kit:

Everything in the Basic Kit, plus:

Like as many packets as you can fit of 4x4 sterile gauze

A way to clean water (purification tablets take up the least space)

More of your own medications

More zipper bags

Silk medical tape

Scissors

A bandanna or other medium-large square of fabric

3-4 of your least favorite high-calorie food bars

A waterproof sheet ("space blankets" are small and great at being waterproof, if nothing else (Though I do have a personal vendetta against space blankets. Ask me why sometime))

An elastic bandage

A fold-up splint if you're gonna be in an area that doesn't have sticks laying all over the ground

As for how to use this stuff- get a few friends together and get in touch with me. We can set something up via zoom.

[zoyarecs]

i could say i’m surprised, but at this point i’m really not because you’re so damn good at everything you write, and i stand by that. i mean, all your works are amazing, but this one is definitely in my top 3, no doubt. maybe i’m a little biased because i fucking love enzo, but either way, the talent is all there (your brain duh)🧏🏻‍♀️

He couldn't decide if he loved you or hated you in moments like this. Maybe both.

boy is sweating, i just know it (AS HE SHOULD)

To everyone else, you looked effortlessly put together-an angel in your festive sweater and jeans, so soft, so sweet. But Lorenzo knew better.

this little smug bastard knowing his girl like the back of his hand, it’s canon, everyone knows it hehe, and i love that you included it here 🌝

you chimed in, your voice light and teasing. "Oh, don't blame the wine. Lorenzo's just got a lot on his mind tonight."

i looooove the reader’s personality, she knows how to handle Lorenzo and i’m all for it. she’s so sassy lmao, it’s hilarious 😭 she needs to slap him

You tilted your head, a slow smile curving your lips. "Dessert already? But the night's just getting started, isn't it?" "Don't worry, love," you said softly, just loud enough for him to hear. "I'll make sure you get exactly what you want... eventually." subtle graze of your fingers against his arm or leg, pushing his limits without saying a word.

hi soooo, i need a reader x reader story like RIGHT NOW, she’s so fucking hot helleoooolosisjshstfvhaysgsg (lorenzo is 💦💦 in his pants)

You shrugged, feigning innocence. "Everyone had a good time. What's there to complain about?" Lorenzo took a slow step forward, his gaze fixed on yours. "You know exactly what."

he’s so done but as i said ‘prove do seu veneno’ ✋🏻✊🏻

He gestured toward the sweater with a flick of his fingers. "Go on, then. Show me." Without giving you a chance to say another word, he dropped you onto the bed with a force that made the mattress bounce.

nothing—JUST THIS LEONA MARIA WHEN I CAT H YOUEJAYWYWHHEHWGWHWB

Without warning, he yanked at the straps of your lingerie, pulling them down just enough to expose your breasts. His hands immediately moved to cup them, squeezing and kneading them with rough insistence.

the way i imagine this in my head… i’m so 🫠🫠🫠🫠 because he’s the type of guy who does stuff like this without any warning

"You think you can tease me like this and get away with it?"

i would tease him on purpose after this

"Begging already?" "Patience, darling," "I wonder if you've been like this all night, haven't you? Wet and needy, waiting for me to touch you."

cocky smug bastard fuck me and yes you’re right enzo 🤭🤭🤭

"You like that, don't you?" he purred, slapping your tits again, harder this time. "Like it when I treat you like a little slut."

PUT THIS ON MY GRAVE, LEONA THIS IS MAKING ME FEEL THINGS

He buried himself deep inside you, his fingers still squeezing your tits, almost as if to ground himself. You both stayed there for a moment, still tangled together, breathless and satiated. Lorenzo leaned down, kissing your neck softly, his voice low and teasing.

i love that he’s treating us like a princess after ruining us, that’s so sweet of him. i want to slap him so bad

LEONA, this was incredible. the dialogues, the tension, the group moments—everything was spot on and made me feel so involved in the narrative. 😣😣😣😣 your works always make me feel like i’m actually in it with them, and i love that because you’re so fucking talented, omfg, don’t even get me started. and the smut?! GIRL, IT WAS SO HOT. i’m obsessed with it, with everything you do, actually!!!!! 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

FICMAS #9— WRAPPED IN RED / lorenzo berkshire

december 27th

lorenzo berkshire x fem reader

summary: surprising your beloved boyfriend in your favorite festive colors…

warnings: smut mdni, unprotected piv, degradation/praise, lingerie, nipple sucking, titty slapping (?), creampie, established relationship

words: 3.8k

a/n: sorry i’ve been kind of MIA the past two days bbs, i will get to my inbox soon <3 (forgot to do the taglist when i first posted this so i added it now!)

navigation ficmas masterlist

Lorenzo was always calm, always collected. He moved through life with the kind of ease that made everyone else envy him—a permanent smirk tugging at his lips, a lazy confidence in every stride. But tonight? Tonight, that composure was cracked, splintering with every passing second.

And it was your fault.

Because even while his friends laughed, argued, and passed bottles of Firewhisky around the table, Lorenzo didn’t see them. He didn’t hear the clink of glasses or the familiar banter filling the room. No, the only thing he saw was an X-ray version of you, his mind peeling back the thick-knit sweater and denim jeans you wore to reveal the little red-laced secret you’d shown him before everyone arrived.

 He couldn’t decide if he loved you or hated you in moments like this. Maybe both.

You sat beside him, close enough that your knee occasionally bumped his under the table. To everyone else, you looked effortlessly put together—an angel in your festive sweater and jeans, so soft, so sweet. But Lorenzo knew better. 

And he was trying to behave—Merlin, he was trying. But every subtle movement of yours, every time you reached for your glass of wine or leaned forward to laugh at one of Theo’s jokes, he felt the blood rush to his head and lower. You were a menace.

“You good, mate?” Blaise’s voice jolted him back to the moment. 

Lorenzo blinked, quickly plastering on a grin that he hoped didn’t look too strained. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Blaise shrugged, tipping his glass toward Lorenzo. “You just seem a little... distracted. Too much wine already?”

Before Lorenzo could answer, you chimed in, your voice light and teasing. “Oh, don’t blame the wine. Lorenzo’s just got a lot on his mind tonight.”

He glanced at you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. You gave him an innocent smile, one that made his chest tighten and his fists clench under the table. 

Draco leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Bet it’s work. You always get that look when you’re thinking about work.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo muttered, forcing himself to look away from you. “Work.”

“Lighten up, Berkshire.” Pansy reached for the bottle to refill her glass. “It’s Christmas. No one wants to hear about whatever boring Ministry nonsense you’ve got going on.”

“It’s not boring,” Theo cut in, gesturing with his fork. “Enzo probably has a very important case. You know, like illegal broomstick modifications or... I don’t know, someone stealing cauldrons.”

The table burst into laughter, and even Lorenzo managed a weak chuckle. But his thoughts weren’t on the conversation. They were on you—on the way you crossed your legs, the way you kept tugging at your sweater like you were hiding something beneath. 

He barely registered when Mattheo passed him the tray of roast potatoes, only grabbing it when Theo nudged his shoulder. “You’re really out of it, mate.”

“I’m fine,” Lorenzo said quickly, setting the tray down with a bit more force than necessary. He glanced at the clock, then at the empty plates around the table. “Should we bring out dessert?”

You tilted your head, a slow smile curving your lips. “Dessert already? But the night’s just getting started, isn’t it?” 

If you weren’t sitting in a room full of people, Lorenzo would’ve kissed that smirk off your face—or done something else entirely. Instead, he swallowed hard, leaning back in his chair and gripping his glass like it might anchor him.  

“Don’t worry, love,” you said softly, just loud enough for him to hear. “I’ll make sure you get exactly what you want... eventually.” 

Lorenzo groaned under his breath, earning a curious glance from Draco. This was going to be a long night.

The evening dragged on in fits and starts, each laugh and clink of glasses feeling like a small eternity. Lorenzo kept himself occupied pouring drinks, clearing plates, and chiming in on conversations when necessary, but his attention was always split. The rest of the group was far too absorbed in their own stories to notice the tension simmering beneath the surface—except for you. 

You leaned into every teasing word, every subtle graze of your fingers against his arm or leg, pushing his limits without saying a word. By the time Theo and Blaise started debating the best Quidditch team of the decade, Lorenzo was practically vibrating with the effort it took to keep his composure.

“Alright,” Pansy announced at last, standing and stretching her arms overhead. “I think that’s my cue to head out before Blaise starts drafting us for his imaginary team.”

“Imaginary?” Blaise shot back. “I could make the Cannons win if I had half a chance.”

Draco rolled his eyes, standing to help Pansy with her coat. “If Blaise keeps this up, we’ll all be here until morning.”

A flurry of goodbyes followed, with everyone exchanging hugs and well-wishes. You played the perfect hostess, ushering them out with a warm smile while Lorenzo stood stiffly at the door, offering little more than clipped nods. He was polite enough to keep up appearances, but you could see the strain in the set of his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders.

Finally, the door clicked shut, and the silence that followed felt deafening.

You turned, leaning casually against the door as you looked at him. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Lorenzo said nothing at first, his eyes scanning your face before dropping lower—to the hem of your sweater, which you had just barely started to tug up before letting it fall again. The corner of his mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. It was something darker, more dangerous.

“Not bad?” His voice was low, quiet in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You think that was not bad?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Everyone had a good time. What’s there to complain about?”

Lorenzo took a slow step forward, his gaze fixed on yours. “You know exactly what.”

You laughed softly, pushing off the door and sauntering past him toward the living room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t, huh?” He was behind you in an instant, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist. The heat of his touch sent a jolt through you, and you turned to face him, your heart pounding. 

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You’ve been driving me mad all night, love. And now you want to play coy?”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a sly smile. “I don’t know... maybe I just wanted to see if you could handle it.”

Lorenzo’s grip tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know you were treading on thin ice. “Handle it? Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’ve just started.”

Before you could respond, he released your wrist and stepped back, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin flush. He gestured toward the sweater with a flick of his fingers. “Go on, then. Show me.”

You hesitated for a moment, letting the tension stretch just long enough to tease him. The air between you felt thick, thick with something that wasn’t just anticipation, but need. Lorenzo was standing so still, his jaw clenched tight, his gaze trained on you like you were the only thing in the world. 

And you, of course, were taking your sweet time. You took a step forward, brushing your fingertips across the collar of his shirt. “What’s the matter, Enzo? You look a little... tense.”

He didn’t respond at first. His hands flexed at his sides, a muscle in his neck tensing as he tried—unsuccessfully—to hold onto whatever sliver of control he had left. But you could feel it, the way the air between you had shifted, crackling with something dangerous. 

Then, before you could blink, he was there—his large hands gripping your waist with bruising force, lifting you off the ground and throwing you over his shoulder without a word.

You gasped, more out of surprise than anything, but the playful smirk you wore didn’t falter. “Enzo! What—”

But he didn’t care to hear it. His steps were long and measured as he marched toward your bedroom, every move deliberate, as if he was on a mission. The door slammed behind him with a finality that made your stomach flutter with nervous excitement. 

Without giving you a chance to say another word, he dropped you onto the bed with a force that made the mattress bounce. The sound of your heart thudded in your chest, and for a split second, everything was quiet. 

Lorenzo stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at you like you were a puzzle he had to figure out. He dragged his gaze up and down your body, lingering on the way your sweater stretched across your chest, the hint of red lace peeking out from beneath it. His eyes darkened, almost black with hunger.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me tonight?” His voice was rough, ragged, and you could feel it, feel the restraint slipping away with every passing second.

You grinned, leaning back against the pillows like you didn’t have a care in the world. “I think I have a pretty good idea,” you teased, running your hand down your side, accentuating the way the fabric of your jeans hugged your hips. 

Lorenzo’s breath hitched. “You think it’s funny?” he growled. He didn’t wait for your response. He was done with your teasing, done with pretending to be patient. He reached down, yanking your sweater off over your head in one swift motion, the sound of fabric ripping filling the air. His hands were all over you now, rough and demanding, tracing the delicate lines of your body like he couldn’t get enough.

There, beneath it all, was the lingerie. Red lace that hugged your curves, teasing him even more than you had with your coy little glances and touches all night. The delicate lace barely covered your chest, and he could see it—see the way your nipples peeked through, hard and waiting for him. His eyes flicked up to yours, and for the briefest moment, he saw that glint of mischief in them.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he muttered, running his hand up your thigh, feeling the soft fabric of your jeans under his fingertips. “You think you can just walk around in front of me like this and not expect me to lose my mind?”

You tilted your head, your voice sweet yet laced with defiance. “Maybe you shouldn’t have invited everyone over then.” 

Lorenzo growled, shaking his head before he leaned over you, his lips trailing along your neck, tasting your skin with each breath. 

“You’re lucky I don’t tear this off right now,” he muttered against your skin. “But I’m going to enjoy this, I’m going to take my time, because you deserve every second of this.”

He traced the edge of your lingerie with his fingers, his touch so slow and deliberate it made your breath catch in your throat. You squirmed beneath him, desperate for more, but he wouldn’t give it to you—not yet. His lips moved lower, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down to the delicate swell of your chest where the lace barely contained your breasts.

You moaned softly, and it was enough. Lorenzo could feel the restraint inside of him snap.

Without warning, he yanked at the straps of your lingerie, pulling them down just enough to expose your breasts. His hands immediately moved to cup them, squeezing and kneading them with rough insistence. You gasped, arching into his touch as he leaned down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The heat of his tongue and the way he sucked and nipped at you made your body tremble, your hands gripping his hair as you urged him on. 

He pulled away, his eyes flashing with something dark, something primal. “You wanted to tease me? Now you get to feel what it’s like when I can’t keep my hands off you.”

The next moments were a blur of frantic movement, his hands and lips devouring you, tearing at your clothes with such urgency you could barely keep up. But you didn’t mind. You wanted this, needed it, wanted to feel him lose himself in you. 

And soon, it wasn’t just about the teasing anymore. It was about claiming, about showing just how badly you had driven him to the edge.

He tugged your jeans down your legs with little care for the slow buildup he’d promised—he was done with that. You weren’t in the mood for waiting either. The moment your legs were bare, his hands were back, grazing over your skin like he couldn’t get enough. 

You let out a soft whimper when he knelt between your legs, eyes dark and focused on the lingerie that had driven him mad all night. The red lace, so simple, so soft, now felt like a taunt—a promise of what he hadn’t had, what he’d been denied for too long. He ran his hands along the edges of the fabric, just skimming the sides, before tugging it down slowly, exposing you to him fully.

Your breath hitched when the cool air hit your skin, and Lorenzo wasted no time, pressing his lips to your inner thighs, his breath warm and heavy against you. His hands were still on your tits, gripping and squeezing as he kissed and nipped his way closer, the anticipation making your body tremble beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, before he finally pulled back to look at you fully. His eyes flickered between the lace remnants at your waist and your flushed face, a smile tugging at his lips, though it was filled with nothing but hunger. “You think you can tease me like this and get away with it?”

You couldn’t help the teasing grin that crossed your face. “Maybe I can.”

His gaze turned intense. "We'll see about that." He stood up quickly, pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his chest to you. The movement was fluid, almost predatory, and the way he reached for his trousers sent a thrill straight through you. The urgency in his actions was both exciting and nerve-wracking—he wasn’t just acting on desire, he was acting on something else too. Something deeper, something urgent.

Before you could even react, Lorenzo was back over you, pressing you into the bed with his body, pinning your arms above your head. His lips found yours in a bruising kiss, hot and demanding. You gasped into his mouth when you felt the pressure of him, hard and insistent, against your stomach. His body was tense, his every movement purposeful as he ground against you, unable to hold back.

You moaned against his lips, desperate for more, for something, anything. "Enzo..." you whispered, pulling your hands free to thread them through his hair, tugging him closer. "Please."

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Begging already?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. But there was something in his eyes—something softer that made your chest tighten. His hand moved to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing over your skin in a fleeting moment of tenderness before he returned to his more urgent touch.

You felt the heat between your legs intensify, an ache so deep it threatened to consume you, and you didn’t want to hold back anymore. "I want you, Enzo," you breathed, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them.

Lorenzo’s smirk deepened, but there was a teasing, almost mocking quality to it as he looked down at you, eyes dark with desire. His voice was low, taunting, as he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours softly before pulling away, his breath hot against your cheek. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down your body again, barely skimming over the lace of your lingerie before he slid his hand between your legs. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of your panties, teasing just enough to make your hips buck involuntarily.

You gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through you, but you didn’t get a chance to savor it. He moved faster, tugging at your panties just enough to expose you, fingers now teasing your sensitive skin, circling slowly, deliberately. 

“You’re so wet,” he said softly, almost in awe, as he dragged his fingers lower. The way he spoke sent another rush of heat through you. “I wonder if you’ve been like this all night, haven’t you? Wet and needy, waiting for me to touch you.”

His fingers slid inside you without warning, and you gasped, your back arching against the bed as you dug your fingers into the sheets. Lorenzo’s thumb found your clit, circling it in a rhythm that sent your mind spinning. His pace was slow at first, just enough to drive you wild, but he wasn’t gentle. Not tonight.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he muttered, the words laced with both admiration and amusement. “Aw, poor baby. Do you want me to make you cum?”

You could only moan in response, your body reacting to his every touch, every movement. His fingers curved inside you, pressing against that spot that made your vision blur and your chest tighten. He leaned down, kissing the side of your neck as you squirmed beneath him, desperate for more.

“I bet you’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?” he whispered, his voice a low, rough purr against your skin. “Wondering when I’d finally take what’s mine.”

You nodded, barely able to focus, your breath coming in shallow gasps. His fingers increased their pace, the pressure in your core building higher, tighter, until you were on the edge of losing yourself.

But just as you felt yourself teetering, Lorenzo pulled his fingers away, leaving you breathless and aching. He lifted his head, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched your body writhe beneath him, desperately trying to find some relief.

“You’re not getting off that easy,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Not tonight.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you up, your legs wrapping around him as he kissed you again, deep and forceful. You didn’t get a chance to catch your breath before his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You gasped as he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours, the heat between you both palpable.

“Now,” he growled, “I’m going to make you feel it.”

With one swift movement, he thrust into you, and the world around you seemed to fade into nothing. The pleasure hit you instantly, a deep, overwhelming pressure that had you gasping for air. He didn’t hold back. His pace was brutal from the start, each thrust driving deeper, filling you completely. The way he moved, so forceful, so confident—it made everything inside you tighten.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning, your hands scrambling to grab at his back, pulling him closer. “Enzo… Please…”

“Please what?” he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I want to hear you beg for it.”

You swallowed hard, the words feeling like they were caught in your throat, but he was relentless. His thrusts were deep and unforgiving, each one hitting a new level of pleasure you hadn’t expected. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, slapping at your ass, as if marking you, claiming you. His lips were on your neck, biting, sucking, leaving bruises that only added to the fire burning inside you.

“Enzo…” you gasped again, unable to control the way your body moved against his. “Please, harder…”

He grinned against your skin, a breathless laugh escaping his lips. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

With a growl, he shifted his angle, pushing into you even deeper, his body slamming against yours with each thrust. You moaned louder, the sound filling the room as you felt the tension in your body intensify, the pressure building in ways you couldn’t control. His hand moved up to your chest, gripping at your breast through the lace, squeezing and pinching as he gave your nipple a sharp twist.

You gasped, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body, making everything inside you tighten even more. He laughed darkly, his breath heavy in your ear as he slapped at your tits, the sting of the contact making you wince, but the pleasure only grew. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he purred, slapping your tits again, harder this time. “Like it when I treat you like a little slut.”

The sting of the slap made you gasp, your body trembling beneath him, but it was all part of the overwhelming pleasure. Your breath came in ragged bursts as he alternated between slapping and groping your tits, squeezing them harshly through the lace, pulling at your nipple again with a cruel twist.

“Enzo, please…” you whimpered, unable to stop yourself from writhing beneath him, your body aching with need. “I can’t… I’m so close…”

“Close?” he repeated, a wicked grin forming on his lips as he slapped your tits again, the sound of his hand meeting your skin ringing in the air. “You want to come, sweetheart? You need to beg me for it.”

His thrusts grew more forceful, more erratic, as he continued to abuse your tits, slapping them with no mercy. The sting mixed with the pleasure, and you could feel yourself tightening again, your body responding to his every movement. You couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Please, Enzo… I need you to let me come,” you gasped, your voice desperate. 

With one final, deep thrust, he gave you what you wanted, and you exploded in waves of pleasure, your body seizing beneath him as you cried out his name. Lorenzo’s thrusts didn’t stop; he followed you, his own release coming in a sharp, breathless groan. He buried himself deep inside you, his fingers still squeezing your tits, almost as if to ground himself.

You both stayed there for a moment, still tangled together, breathless and satiated. Lorenzo leaned down, kissing your neck softly, his voice low and teasing.

“I love you,” he whispered, his hands softening their grip on your chest. “But don’t think for a second I’ll let you off that easy again.”

You smiled, the aftershocks of your orgasm still trembling through you. “Maybe next time I’ll make you wait longer.”

Lorenzo chuckled darkly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I’ll make sure you regret that.”

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Josh Levy - Teddy Bear with a Lightsaber

He's not fat.. okay he's fat AND he's big boned.

Joshua “Josh” Aaron Levy [05/04/80] Secretary of Science Fiction AOL / Online Users: [JediJunkies_80] Theme Songs: Science Fiction Double Feature - Me First and Gimmie Gimmies | Ghost - Mystery Skulls | Aliens Exist - blink-182

Favorite Shit: Star Trek, Star Wars, Dr. Who, Twilight Zone, Kaiju, Stargate SG-1 Battlestar Galactica, Klingon, Alternate Earths, Firefly, Planet of the Apes, 12” Action Figures, Torrent Sites, The X-Files, Babylon 5, Akira, Farscape, Boba Fett

Despite his (well earned) grievances, he still hangs around these fuckers cause he can't really seem to find solace anywhere else, even online spaces. He didn't expect to find any enjoyment out of going to tournaments with Jerry, but an excuse to get good city food and walk around the comic shops they were held in were enough in his book to keep him coming back. He even managed to find a space themed tabletop he likes to play, and... y'know.. maybe other reasons..

But we don't talk about him shit uh IT UH--

Never tell me the odds.

Oh Joshybear my beloved you poor antagonistic shitsmear.

His mom is in the hospital a lot more often or just straight up bed bound, which makes him kind of never want to leave his room out of guilt.

Yes, this dingus still blames himself for it, though it's not like his father helps with that.

Whenever he isn't holed up in his room, he's trying to drag somebody anybody out of the house to do something. Anything to get his mind off of stupid emotional shit--

He often goes with Jerry into the inner city when he has tournaments, especially when nobody else really wants to go. Sometimes he even covers Jerry bus fair or just borrows his mom's car.

However, this fucker HATES driving. It makes him the most anxious he's ever been his entire life. It is nothing like video games and it is nothing like the Millennium Falcon, that's for damn certain.

He also hates trying to park because he is deathly afraid of hitting the side of someone's car with the door.

Josh actually doesn't meet Matt at the same time as Jerry, surprisingly enough. Jerry introduces them when they bump into each other at the shop for a non-tournament related reason.

Josh nearly had a panic attack on the spot but it's fine

The moment he heard Matt had never seen the Star Wars films he nearly lost his mind.

This became the entire basis of Josh's attachment to the dude: "I have to show him the cinematic masterpiece that is this damn franchise."

And that's all it is. Mhmm. Totally. Don't ask why his hands are clammy and he's even more show-offy than normal whenever he's around. Don't.

please?

He works with his dad at their Synagogue as essentially a secretary and sound technician, but hey, it lets him write his fanfictions Reimaginings and scroll through blogs in peace, right?

And it keeps him out of his dad's hair and the house, so it's kind of a win-win-win.. win?

I love him

I want to eat him.

A DOUBLE POST???? HJGDSAJKHDKSJALHDLK You're welcome

Also don't worry guys, you'll get a WHOLE lot more info on Matt soon. He's not an affiliated member of the club and I didn't have many drawings of him (despite my.. excessive notes...) so I'm cranking them out as I post this.

NOW LOVE THE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS DAMNIT.

also hi I know his pants look weird shut up nothing else looked better.

[kisakunt]

THE RICH MAN’S GUIDE TO CORRUPTION

GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE

warnings… i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, you’re a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.

synopsis… suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.

a word from the creator… idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter don’t sue me. i’m excited!!!! here’s to the next eleven chapters of hell

series masterlist

Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his father’s yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the window— that Suguru demanded be open— overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.

“Start of the year’s comin’, yknow.” He typically broke the silence— as if he could ever shut up to begin with— and he was almost always met with a:

“No shit.” strident response. Those seemed to be Suguru’s speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoru’s.

It’s too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. “I’m not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.” It’s an overdramatic sigh— a call for attention— as he turns his head over to look at him.

“They’re gonna ask us about it soon.” And, in some way Suguru can’t really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.

His manner isn’t necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ‘new year, new fuck’ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attend— the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.

The competition was started by the current dean’s uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girls— or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.

Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.

But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. It’s almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. It’s inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.

Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person he’d feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.

Even so, it gets old quick. And it’s not like they don’t fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he can’t quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.

“Well try to make sure your dick doesn’t get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.” There’s a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.

This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pair— whether it’s a pair of awful men or not.

There’s also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. It’s exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caught— you’re out. And whose pride would want that?

“It’s stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, it’s not like we don’t know what’s coming up.” He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Plus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.”

“I mean the whole thing’s odd if you think about it.” Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.

He’s right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they can’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.

Be that as it may, it’s not too bad when that’s all they know, and it’s not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.

“Do you think they’ll cry again?” Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. “It’s always funny, dontcha think?”

“As if you’d know,” There’s a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. “Dunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.”

Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. “Yeah, I know but…” His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.

“Yknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of ‘saving your innocence’” his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. “for someone you really love.”

“Sounds like she’s ugly.”

“Thought so, too, but..” He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesn’t take him long to find the photo; clearly he’s been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. “Look.”

Suguru doesn’t like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. “Holy shit.” You aren’t necessarily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, probably not even the prettiest he’s seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.

Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks it’s the just barely explicit face you’re making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if he’s searching deep down— it’s the fact he knows you’re the one girl who wouldn’t just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.

“Sugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?” Suddenly Gojo’s previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. “Hardest part about it is finding out who’s actually a virgin or not, and that’s pretty simple with how awkward they get.”

“What are you saying?” Maybe he already knows, maybe he’s hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesn’t care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, he’d probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels different— secret.

“Let’s do something, on our own, just you and me.” He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.

“I mean, unless you’re not up for it. You don’t really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.” He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.

“Geto, I— I love you.” His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. “I think.. I think I’m ready- I want it to be you.” He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. “Could you imagine?”

“The fuck does that mean?!”

“Cmon, Suguru, you’re not really the endearing type.” He’s edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knows— of course he knows, but it can’t help but irk him.

“What are you thinking?” And now Gojo’s beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.

“Page 36, read it.” The article is cheesy. It’s too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote ‘Virginity is a miracle— the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.’.

It’s shocking that you’re the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.

Suguru thinks you’re vile— embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesn’t even hear Gojo’s laugh.

“Pretentious as shit, right?” He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. “It’s gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.” Suguru didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but it wasn’t that. It’s clear through, through and through, that he’s dedicated to the idea.

“I mean sure, I guess you’ll have your turn. Maybe she’ll fuck just about anyone after I win.”

“Wait, so you’re in?”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck yeah!” He’s joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before he’s holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.

The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. It’s clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.

“Well clearly we need to set up some rules.” He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him won’t make him shut up.

“Okay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesn’t count.” It’s almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, that’ll come hand in hand with the fact they’re acting just like their fathers.

“She has to be sober.” He didn’t really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.

Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.

“Would it be too cocky to say she has to cum?” The journal’s away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin he’s got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit there’s good reason.

Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. “Do they normally not with you?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant, asshole.” There’s something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.

And there’s something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.

“Are we gonna have like a— fuck I don’t know— like a time limit?”

“Fuck is this? A video game?”

“I mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isn’t that kind of stupid? Because who’s to say she won’t ‘really love you’ by then, and then you’re not making her go against anything, yknow?” And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.

“Fine. A month.”

“Just a month?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, anything longer than that and we’d just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.” Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. “What? You’re the one who said it to begin with.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. A month.” It’s silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.

“That it then?” Maybe they’re the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.

“One more, actually.” There’s that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.

“You need proof. And I don’t mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.” That almost makes Suguru laugh.

“I don’t think she’s gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Now he’s really thrilled. He doesn’t know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he’s really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. “write that shit down.”

There’s something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like they’re those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling they’re supposed to get from their fathers’ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.

A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.

“Okay, that settles that then.” Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. “She has to be attending the start of the year banquet so that’ll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.” Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.

Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful he’ll be.

“We still gotta do the ‘new year’ thing, you know. They’ll burst a fucking artery if we say we’re not interested.” His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything he’s feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.

“Can you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.” They’re almost joking like everything is normal. It’s different, so much different, but they’re acting the same.

“I’m gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?” Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be back.”

“Whatever,” He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.

He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. It’s coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, it’s got his signature at the bottom.

1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina

2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober

3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced we’re both “a couple of fucking losers” (< Sugu’s words)

4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)

5. Photo / video proof. If you can’t get it, you aren’t in it (haha! get it?)

He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.

He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.

taglist… @moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie

[magnagaruzenmon]

Tomboy is the name of a song right?

Uh oh does Dino have a crush? Does my writing partner have a big crush? In all seriousness this was really cute. Okay Dino you’re kinda on a roll I’ll admit. Give a big thanks to @moonluvrrsworld for the idea

You wouldn’t call your marriage to Sohyun “arranged” per se, but it was definitely “encouraged.” You’d known each other your whole life, growing up as neighbors and later as classmates. Sohyun had always been more of a best friend than anything else, the type of person who’d sit with you on the roof of her house, sharing snacks while talking about the wild ideas of escaping to some far-off place. She kept her hair short, dressed simply, and carried herself with a straightforwardness that made her seem more like an equal than someone you’d ever imagine dating—let alone marrying.

So, when your parents sat you down for “the talk” and floated the idea, you didn’t know how to process it. It felt absurd, even laughable. But somehow, it all happened—her parents agreeing, your families eagerly planning, and then the proposal. You’ll never forget how she answered, her expression calm as ever, a hint of amusement in her eyes:

“Well, if it makes everyone happy, sure.”

It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it wasn’t a rejection either. You still don’t know why she agreed—whether out of obligation, curiosity, or something else entirely. The wedding was a small affair something both of you demanded of the other, making it seem more like an elopement than a grand ceremony and declaring of love for one another to hammer this home both of you wore suits to the affair. It bothered your parents but you wanted Sohyun to be comfortable and happy, and that’s what made her comfortable and happy.

The first year of married life wasn’t what you’d call a whirlwind romance. It was… practical. Strangely, the challenges weren’t about you two as a couple. You didn’t fight over finances or argue over big-ticket issues like religion, politics, or even how to raise hypothetical kids. On the contrary, you two fell into an easy rhythm, dividing chores, coordinating schedules, and sharing meals without much fuss. Your talent for domestic life had you spearheading a lot of the cooking and cleaning while she made up for it in other ways. She lets you enjoy your hobbies and passion rather freely. You guys worked well together and complimented each other surprisingly well, so much so that your friends who saw your life at home were often jealous of how well the two of you clicked in each other’s lives.

No, the real problems came from the outside. Sorting out the paperwork for name changes and passports was a bureaucratic nightmare, the kind of thing no one warns you about. That’s why your honeymoon plans fell through—months after the wedding, you were still stuck in government offices, navigating endless forms and regulations. Then there were the awkward conversations with friends who couldn’t wrap their heads around your marriage, some of them outright questioning if it was even real. “So… are you guys actually in love, or is this like… a thing your families did?” they’d ask, their voices dripping with skepticism.

Through it all, Sohyun stayed steady. She had a way of brushing off the chaos with her bright, easy smile, grounding you whenever things got overwhelming. You’d wake up to that smile every morning, her hair slightly mussed, her voice soft as she greeted you. It was comforting, more than you ever realized you needed.

But lately, you’ve noticed something different about her. Subtle changes in her demeanor, like the way she lingers when you’re talking, her gaze warmer, more searching. She’s started wearing her hair longer, experimenting with little touches of makeup, and choosing outfits that feel just a bit more… deliberate. There’s an unspoken tension, an energy that wasn’t there before, as though she’s navigating unfamiliar territory within herself—and with you.

It’s nothing dramatic, but it’s enough to make you wonder. Was this marriage truly just an arrangement to her, or is she beginning to see you differently too?

When you asked about her hair all she could really say was, “Oh it was time for a change, yadda yadda. Bla bla bla,” you took it in stride but then the next change was a bit more noticeable. Dresses and more feminine patterns in her clothes started cropping up. Baggy t-shirts became billowing blouses with brazen blazers that complimented the figure you knew she had but never really paid mind to. Again when most of your previous conversation revolved around the literary merits of Orwell or Twain you never considered the body beneath the brain, but now you were and she had a marvelous figure.

The next major thing you noticed was when the two of you were discussing honeymoon locales and she suggested Argentina you were surprised.

“Sohyun you hate the heat and it's like 28C there right now,” you say.

Her response was again “I just wanted to change things up a bit. It's been super gloomy and I wanna explore a new place that's not as cold,”

You glance over at Sohyun as the plane levels out, the cabin lights dimming to a soft, ambient glow. She’s flipping through the in-flight magazine, a faint smile playing on her lips. Her hair, now long enough to frame her face, catches the light from the small reading lamp, giving her an almost ethereal glow.

“You know,” you say, stretching your legs under the cramped seat, “this might be the first time I’ve seen you look genuinely excited about a trip.”

Sohyun tilts her head, smirking. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always excited about trips.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, sure. Like that time we went camping, and you spent three hours arguing with a squirrel over your trail mix?”

“That squirrel started it,” she says, deadpan, but her smile widens. She nudges your arm with her elbow, her tone dropping into something teasing. “Besides, you’re the one who packed gourmet cheese for a hike. Who does that?”

“Someone who has taste,” you counter, leaning slightly closer. “Not that you’d know much about that, considering you still put ketchup on your eggs.”

Her mock gasp is loud enough to turn a few heads. “Excuse me, Mr. High Standards. If you weren't my husband, I’d have you escorted off this plane for such slander.”

“Well, good thing you are,” you shoot back, “because you’d miss me too much otherwise.”

The playful banter hangs in the air for a moment before Sohyun bursts into laughter, a sound that’s rich and unguarded. You’ve heard her laugh a thousand times before—on rooftops, in late-night study sessions, over inside jokes—but now it’s different. The husky warmth of it wraps around you, sinking deep into your chest. It feels like home and adventure all at once, and you find yourself leaning into it without even realizing it.

“You’re so full of yourself,” she says, shaking her head but still smiling.

“Comes with the territory,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

But it’s hard to play it cool when her voice follows—low, velvety, teasing. There’s something about it that catches you off guard every time, like the first note of your favorite song. Lately, it’s been happening more often: the way her words linger in your mind long after she’s spoken, the way her laugh stays with you like a melody you can’t shake.

Sohyun folds the magazine and tucks it into the seat pocket, turning fully toward you now. Her gaze is steady but softer than you’re used to, and it catches you off guard. “You know,” she says, her voice quieter but no less playful, “I think this is the first trip we’ve taken where we actually feel like a couple. Not roommates, not friends, but… a couple.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in her tone. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A good thing,” she says immediately, her smile turning into something warmer, almost shy. “A very good thing.”

The flight attendant interrupts the moment, offering drinks and snacks, and Sohyun orders a glass of white wine. You follow suit, and when the glasses arrive, she holds hers up in a small toast.

“To new places,” she says, clinking her glass against yours.

“And new beginnings,” you add, meeting her gaze.

She takes a sip, then smirks over the rim of her glass. “You’re getting better at this whole romance thing, you know.”

“I learn from the best,” you reply, and for once, you mean it entirely.

She laughs again, that bright, husky sound pulling you in like a tide. It’s something you never thought much about before, but now you can’t get enough of it. The sound, the way her lips curl just slightly at the edges—it’s all starting to feel dangerously enchanting.

As the plane hums steadily toward Argentina, the conversation drifts back to familiar banter, but the undertone of something more lingers. For the first time, you’re not just comfortable—you’re captivated. This feels like the start of something neither of you saw coming, but both of you are ready for.

After a long flight and a quick check-in at the resort, exhaustion overtakes both of you. The room is cozy and bright, with a balcony that offers a sweeping view of the ocean. You barely have time to take it all in before you crash onto the bed, the travel fatigue winning out.

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of waves crashing faintly in the distance and the soft rustle of movement nearby. You blink a few times, the sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains, and sit up groggily. That’s when you see her.

Sohyun stands near the sliding doors to the balcony, adjusting the strap of a two-piece bathing suit—a pale lavender color that complements her complexion perfectly. For a moment, you think you’re still dreaming. Your brain struggles to reconcile this image with the Sohyun you’ve always known: the one who usually opted for modest one-piece swimsuits or an oversized T-shirt and trunks when the two of you swam together.

“Holy fuck,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

She turns, startled at first, then breaks into that familiar, warm smile of hers. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, and the sunlight streaming in from behind her gives her an almost radiant glow. But it’s her figure that truly has your attention—something you’d always known was there but had never really noticed until now. It’s not just the bathing suit; it’s the confidence she carries, the way she holds herself.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Sohyun asks, her voice calm, like she hasn’t just completely turned your world upside down.

You clear your throat, feeling the heat rise to your face. “It’s just… I’ve never seen you in something so bold.”

Her smile widens, and she steps closer, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. “Do you like it?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, her tone teasing but curious.

You nod, but words fail you for a moment. A thousand thoughts race through your mind, most of them not entirely innocent. You’d never thought of her this way before—not quite like this. She’s always been beautiful, yes, but this is different. It’s as though seeing her like this has unlocked something in you, a wave of emotions you weren’t prepared for.

“I—uh—yeah,” you manage, your voice cracking slightly. “You look amazing.”

She laughs, a low, husky sound that pulls at something deep inside you. “Well, thank you. I figured since we’re on vacation, I’d try something new.”

“It suits you,” you say quickly, your eyes flicking away briefly, but they find their way back to her almost immediately.

Sohyun steps closer again, now standing right in front of you. She places a hand on your shoulder, her touch light but grounding. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen me before,” she teases, her eyes twinkling.

“I feel like I haven’t,” you admit softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She blinks at you, surprised by your candor, but her expression softens. “Well,” she says, her voice dropping just slightly, “I’m glad I could surprise you.”

There’s a pause, charged with something new and electric. She doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. For the first time, you’re not just looking at Sohyun—you’re seeing her, really seeing her.

Before the moment can stretch too far, she steps back with a playful grin. “Come on, get changed,” she says, her tone light again. “The beach isn’t going to wait forever.”

As she walks away, you watch her go, your mind still swirling with everything you’ve just realized. You’ve always known Sohyun was your best friend, your partner, the person you trusted most in the world. But now, she’s something more, something you’re just beginning to understand.

You take a deep breath, standing to find your swim trunks. Whatever this vacation holds, you have a feeling it’s going to change things—for the better. As you get changed you notice that you have a rock-hard erection and part of you feels shame. Here you are what’s supposed to be a trip with your wife and your body is festering this itch inside of you. Granted it’s been hard for the two of you to get alone time together because of the amount of work that plagued the two of you in the first year of your marriage so you couldn’t really properly release but still this was a lovey-dovey trip no time for impure indecent thoughts. Sohyun was better than that you were better than that… you hoped.

The sun is high by the time you step onto the beach, the golden sand warm beneath your feet. The breeze carries the scent of saltwater and the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Sohyun walks ahead of you, her lavender bathing suit catching the sunlight in a way that makes her seem almost otherworldly.

She turns back, shielding her eyes with one hand. “You’re so slow,” she teases, her voice laced with playful impatience. “I thought you were the athletic one.”

“Just taking it all in,” you reply, though you’re pretty sure you’re not talking about the scenery.

Sohyun rolls her eyes but smiles, her steps light and carefree as she leads you toward a quieter spot near the water. When she sets down her beach bag, she stretches her arms above her head, and you catch yourself staring at the curve of her waist, the way the movement emphasizes her figure.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. This is Sohyun—your best friend, your wife. The person who once dared you to eat an entire raw onion on a bet. The same person who fell asleep on your shoulder during countless movie nights. But now, as she pulls her hair into a loose ponytail and settles onto the towel, she feels like someone entirely new.

She glances up at you, catching you mid-thought. “Why are you just standing there?” she asks, patting the spot beside her.

You sit down, the sand warm beneath you, and she leans back on her elbows, her face turned toward the ocean. There’s something so effortless about her, like she belongs here under the sun, surrounded by beauty.

“Do you remember when we used to talk about running away to the beach when we were kids?” she asks, her voice soft but filled with a certain wistfulness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think your plan involved us becoming pirates or something equally ridiculous.”

She laughs, the sound low and husky, and it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “It wasn’t ridiculous. I’d make an excellent pirate.”

You can’t help but grin. “You’re too nice to be a pirate. You’d probably end up apologizing to everyone you robbed.”

“Maybe,” she says, turning to look at you. Her smile lingers, but her eyes hold a warmth that makes your heart stutter. “But you’d make a good first mate. You’ve always had my back, after all.”

The weight of her words settles between you, and for a moment, you’re both quiet, the sound of the waves filling the space. Then, Sohyun shifts closer, her shoulder brushing against yours.

“Can you put some sunscreen on my back?” she asks, holding out the bottle.

“Uh, sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens.

She turns, pulling her ponytail to the side, and you carefully apply the sunscreen, your hands moving over her skin. It’s nothing you haven’t done before, but it feels different now. You’re hyper-aware of the softness of her skin, the way her muscles move slightly under your touch.

“Thanks,” she says, glancing over her shoulder with a smile that feels just a little too knowing.

When she turns back around, she props herself up on her elbows again, her expression light but teasing. “You’re staring again,” she says, a playful lilt in her voice.

“I’m not staring,” you protest, though you know it’s a lie.

“You are,” she insists, her grin widening. “It’s okay, though. I don’t mind.”

Her boldness catches you off guard, and you’re not sure how to respond. Sohyun has always been confident, but this—this playful, flirtatious side—is new. And it’s doing things to you that you’re not entirely prepared for.

She leans closer, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You know, you’re allowed to compliment your wife. It’s kind of expected, actually.”

“You’re beautiful,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Her eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, you think you’ve overstepped. But then her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip, her smile turning shy in a way that’s both endearing and completely captivating.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice softer now.

As the day goes on, she continues to surprise you. The way she walks along the shoreline, letting the waves lap at her feet, her laughter ringing out when she splashes water at you. The way she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, her smile both teasing and tender.

By the time the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you realize something has shifted. The image of Sohyun you’ve carried for so long—your best friend, your partner in crime—has started to transform. Now, you see her not just as your wife in name, but as someone who could truly hold your heart.

And the most surprising part? You’re starting to hope she feels the same way.

The two of you get back to your shared room. Sohyun says, “I’m gonna shower first unless you want to join me,” before enticingly wiggling her cute butt in front of you. At that point, the itch becomes overwhelming as you approach her. She smiles knowingly as you take your cock out. Sohyun’s eyes widened

“Oh I knew you had a nice cock but this was perfect for me,”

You look at her in. A lust-fueled haze, and she says, “Are you gonna fuck me because I really need it.”

Barely able to hold it in you plunged your cock inside of Sohyun.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of each other’s sexes you both cum violently as you bottom out

Sohyun screams as she squirts everywhere and her walls milk you rapaciously. Your dick wildly fills her womb with your seed as the two of you revel in orgasmic bliss.

“Fuck why haven’t we done that before?”

Feeling a bit flustered you respond, “Because I only thought we were friends, I didn’t even know you had this,” you spank her tight ass, and Sohyun moans erotically making you hard again, “or these,” you add massaging her voluptuous breasts. You begin ramming into her tight cavern again as she moans.

“Fuck if I knew you'd feel this good I'd have seduced you years ago,” Sohyun says as her eyes roll into the back of her head. She moans as her pussy sucks you in further.

“Fuck please fuck me harder,” she pleads as your rail her. Her walls tighten around your manhood as you watch her supple ass bounce and ripple with each thrust. Sohyun moans your name continuously as she takes you, and you take her.

“Ahh uhh,” she stammers and moans as you fuck her. Both of you are so far gone in lust that words could barely be found in the pleasure young two get from each other. As you pull her up from her bent position by her long hair something in you awakened as your wife came around your cock again.

With your other hand, you grab one of her breasts and massage the soft flesh. Sohyun moans as she's sent into another orgasm. She squirts all over you again.

You give her a bit of time to recover from her high as you remain buried in her cunt. She smiles as she's filled to the brim with you. She turns around and says, “Am I yours,”!you nod and say

“Of course,”

She smirks and says, “Good you're gonna fuck me every night from now on because I can't go back to masturbating alone especially when you have this nice a cock,”

With the image of your wife changed into this sultry vixen you asked what caused her to become this. She smiles lustfully and answers,

“Ive always been this, but you make me feel safe and comfortable being Sohyun the bro but also as Sohyun you're sexy wife. Being married to you has been a dream and I just wanted to show more of who I was to you,”

You smile as you kiss her. She smiles as she leads you to the bed and she gently pushes you down on it.

“I'm gonna ride you now,” she says emphatically. You groan as she hastily grinds on your crotch. You watch as her breasts bounce beautifully and she smiles at you. Instinctively you buck your hips but she stops you, “no no no. I'm in control. I control the tempo. I control the rhythm and I control when you cum.” she says sternly as she rolls and deliciously dances her hips over yours. She is unbearable tight as the pleasure melts your brain to where all you can think about is her.

You barely last a few minutes of this before you cum inside her again. Sohyun moans as you both come down from your shared highs before the two of them pass out on the bed. You hold her tight your grip gentle but possessive as you cling to each other you both drift off into dreams.

The sound of distant laughter and the smell of summer grass fill your senses. You’re back in the neighborhood park, where the sun is warm, and the sky is endlessly blue. A pair of small hands tugs at yours, pulling you toward the swings. It’s Sohyun, her short hair sticking out in every direction, her face flushed with excitement.

“Come on!” she says, her voice high-pitched and full of determination. “I want to swing higher than you this time!”

You let her drag you to the swings, laughing as she clambers onto one with all the grace of a kid who hasn’t yet figured out coordination. “You never win, you know,” you tease, taking the swing next to her.

“Not yet,” she shoots back, pumping her legs furiously.

The two of you race to see who can swing higher, her competitive grunts mixing with your laughter. Eventually, you both slow down, letting the swings sway gently as the golden light of the late afternoon bathes everything in a warm glow.

“Do you think we’ll always be friends?” she asks suddenly, her voice quieter now, almost shy.

“Of course,” you say without hesitation. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

She kicks her legs idly, her swing rocking back and forth. “Sometimes people grow up and stop being friends. That’s what my mom says.”

“Well, we won’t,” you declare firmly. “We’ll always stick together.”

She smiles at that, turning her head to look at you. There’s a seriousness in her eyes that’s unusual for a kid her age. “What if we get married? Then we’d have to stay together forever.”

The suggestion catches you off guard, and you burst out laughing. “Married? You and me?”

“Why not?” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re my best friend. And my mom says you should marry someone who makes you happy.”

You consider this, your legs scuffing lightly against the ground as your swing slows to a stop. “I guess that makes sense. But aren’t you supposed to, like… love the person you marry?”

She scrunches up her nose, clearly unimpressed with your reasoning. “Well, I love you, dummy. Don’t you love me?”

Her words hit you with the blunt honesty only a child can muster, and you feel your cheeks heat up. “Uh… yeah. I guess I do.”

“Then it’s settled,” she says with a decisive nod. “When we grow up, we’ll get married. And you can do all the cooking because you make better sandwiches than me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine. But only if you promise not to boss me around too much.”

“Deal,” she says, holding out her pinky. You loop your pinky with hers, sealing the pact.

As the memory begins to fade, you hear her voice one last time, soft and confident. “See? We’ll be together forever. You’ll see.”

You wake up with a start, the sound of waves crashing outside pulling you back to the present. For a moment, you lie there, the dream still vivid in your mind. The memory feels both distant and impossibly close, like a thread connecting the past to the present.

You glance to the side, where Sohyun is still asleep, her hair spread out across the pillow, her face peaceful in the soft morning light. The promise from that day echoes in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if she remembers it too. Seeing the smile plastered on her sleeping face as you caress her shoulder tells you all you need to know. You cuddle closer and are surprised when she buries your half-erect cock in her sopping pussy she moans then says

“I want all of you all the time,” you moan as the two of you go back to sleep

You wake up to Sohyun’s lips pressed into yours as you feel something soft wrap around your cock as you cum. Your eyes focus on Sohyun staring at you with a lascivious glare as she feels your cum pour out.

“Good baby you're awake,” she says. Her eyes glazed over with desire.

“I wanted you to breed me. You have more in you right?” she says hungrily

Seeing her all on display for you makes incredibly hard for her. Seeing it as encouragement she mounts you happily. As she bottoms out on you you moan in pleasure. “Oh fuck honey you're so tight,” Sohyun smiles and you explode in her again. Sohyun feeling your release groans as you cum in her. She bends over to you and whispered

“I'm not birth control and today I'm not safe so I'm gonna get pregnant.”

Her words stir inside as the primal need to claim your woman overwhelmed your entire being your lips raise to meet hers finding yourself lost in a desperate messy lustful kiss that leaves the two of you breathless and hungry you two stare at each other as lust and live intertwine you say to

“God I love every part of you,” Sohyun smiles before responding.

“Oh you have then why didn't you make a move?” she asked

“Because we had been friends for so long. I thought you didn't like me, but you drive me wild Soho,” you say.

Your wife smiles as you ram into her. She groans as thrust in and out.

“You close baby?” you ask. Sohyun smiles as she caresses your face.

“Im always close for you baby,” she says before cumming violently all over your cock. You groan as you join her in another orgasm.

Hours later the two of you sit on the balcony of your resort suite exhausted , the warm night air wrapping around you like a blanket. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, the waves glowing faintly under the moonlight. Sohyun has her feet propped up on the railing, her body relaxed, a glass of something tropical in her hand. She’s wearing a light sundress that flutters gently in the breeze, her hair loosely pinned back.

You sip your drink, watching her out of the corner of your eye. For what feels like the hundredth time on this trip, you’re struck by how different she seems—not just in how she looks, but in how she carries herself. There’s a confidence in her now, something bold and unshakable, and it’s left you feeling a little off-balance.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Of course,” she replies, glancing at you with a small smile.

“What’s with all this?” You gesture vaguely at her—her dress, her posture, everything. “I mean… why are you so seductive all of a sudden?”

Her smile widens, and she lets out a low, amused laugh that sends a shiver down your spine. “Seductive, huh?”

“I’m serious,” you say, though your tone is light. “You’ve always been confident, sure, but this… this is different. You’re different. And I don’t mean that in a bad way,” you add quickly. “It’s just… new.”

She sets her glass down, turning her body slightly to face you. For a moment, she studies you, her expression thoughtful. Then, she leans back, stretching her arms out along the back of her chair, her gaze flicking toward the horizon.

“It’s hard to explain,” she begins, her voice soft but steady. “But I guess… being married to you, living with you—it’s done something to me. It’s like it’s awakened this part of me I didn’t even know was there. This… primal femininity, I guess you could call it.”

You blink, surprised by her honesty. “Primal femininity?”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “I know it sounds weird. But it’s true. I’ve always been comfortable with who I am, you know? The short hair, the baggy clothes, the ‘one of the guys’ vibe—it’s always felt right to me. And it still does.” She pauses, glancing down at her hands. “But being with you… it’s like I’ve started to feel this other side of me, this softer, more feminine side. And I don’t mean in a ‘let’s conform to societal norms’ way,” she adds quickly, meeting your eyes. “It’s more personal than that. Like, you bring it out of me.”

Her words hit you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. “Me?” you manage.

She nods, her expression softening. “Yeah. You make me feel safe. Like I can just… be. And for the first time, I’m realizing that I can be all these things at once. The tomboy who’ll always beat you at Mario Kart and the woman who wants to wear a dress and flirt with her husband. They’re both me. And I like that.”

You stare at her, your heart doing something strange and uneven in your chest. “I had no idea I had that kind of effect on you.”

“Well, you do,” she says simply, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “You’ve always seen me for who I really am, and that’s… freeing, you know? It makes me want to be even more of myself, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” you say quietly, your voice thick with emotion. “And for the record, I think both sides of you are amazing.”

Her smile softens, and she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “So, does that answer your question?”

“Yeah,” you say, a slow grin spreading across your face. “But I still reserve the right to be a little dazzled. You’ve been catching me off guard a lot lately.”

“Good,” she says, her eyes sparkling. “It’s about time I had the upper hand for once.”

You laugh, and she joins in, the sound light and easy. And as you sit there, talking and teasing each other under the stars, you realize just how much you love every part of her—past, present, and whatever comes next.

[wolfpants]

erised tidings

Unfortunately I had to drop out of @hd-erised this year due to being flakier than a 99p* cone, but that didn't cut short my Erised journey because I had the pleasure of betaing 3 absolutely stellar fics that I want to scream about from the rooftops. Listed in alphabetical order, because each is as excellent as the next and they all hold a very special place in my cold heart.

Thank you so much to my lovely pals who let me feel like I was taking part in the fest even when I wasn't. I'm very lucky indeed. 🖤

In a Year's Turning by @hoko-onchi-writes is not only a gorgeous rekindled-romance by way of delicately mending the tears in a relationship so romantic, so beautifully feelsy and tender (and hot, my god is it hot), but at its heart it's an emotional and important exploration of parenthood and family and what it feels like to watch your child grow up as the magical, wonderous but also at times unsympathetic and cruel world moves too quickly around them and you. I got so choked up reading this for Hoko, so many times. A beauty of a fic. The Melting Point of Wax by @oknowkiss is a riot of originality and sexiness and holy popes racing around the Vatican on broomsticks? Honestly sometimes I just want to crawl right into Elaine's big, wonderful mind and have a poke around in there, their ideas are like nothing I've ever seen cooked up anywhere else, and what's more, they're always translated so sharply; Elaine's writing is full of life and wit, and at the centre there's always the tender heart I so crave when it comes to Drarry, just thrumming and constant and waiting to be uncovered fully. Really fucking great, this one. The Pain From an Old Wound by @citrusses had me gasping for more every time Lor updated the doc. This is a grown-up, swoon-worthy, gothic-tinged romance weaved with clever magic theory, outstanding dialogue, and a romantic Drarry history (and reunion) that feels absolutely lived-in and achy but also really fun as we get to see the two exes snark back and forth (jealousy. my. beloved.) as they come together to work through Harry's crisis. Gorgeously rendered, elegant prose.

I can't wait to dig into the fics I've not gotten around to reading yet. This year's fest has been an absolute banger!

*they're actually like £5 or something now... inflation... economy...

[scara-writes]

100% perfect

GN!Esper!Reader x Y!Guide!Male OC

Note: hello im back. A lot happened, I had an anxiety attacks, my mind has been having a lot of bad thoughts, my dog passed away last year—three months ago... I didn't have a lot of time for me to write since I've been grieving for my dog's death up until now but I'm okay, I'm healing... Anyway, my writings is rusty and probably didn't improve. I know some of you guys really tried to reach out through ask and I'm kind of happy. Thanks. For now I'll give this to piece of one shot for a new year. This Esper x Guide thing I made might not be accurate. All i know is they are similar to Alpha x Omega shits except the curse thing on espers. This might be cringe. i will try to edit it. I will try to update the other oc's as well.

-also please do not do this, i do not condone anything in this story. This is purely fiction and be kept as a fiction.

CW: implied se(g)s, implied suicide(mention), yandere, drugging, manipulation, dynamic power, etc.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"(Y/n)!!" A ginger haired male rush up to you, hugging you by the time you step on the greenery field of the university. Pastel blue of sweater was the first thing you see before you were envelope by a hug. You tense when his arms coils around your waist, hearing him breathe out of relief as he buries his face on your left shoulder. 

You don't know what to do everytime he does this. There were eyes everywhere and it doesn't seem like he is bothered by it.

Of course why would he?

Micah Clarke is not only popular and prettiest student in this campus. He is known for being famous as the youngest champion of ice skating 3 years ago, defending his title until now. His luscious natural lips, his hazel eyes that could make you halt on what you were doing, the type to make yourself give him a third glance because he is so pretty. So pretty that you sometimes envy his glassy skin, igniting a insecurities to yourself. His soft curly ginger hair and freckled face that matches his glossy alabaster complexion. The type of guy who prefers cute, pastel than those typical guys—omg so unique(lol)—that always choose to wear dark or dull colors. Everyone finds him attractive including yourself. Everything about him screams beauty and elegance. He can hook up with men and women if he wants to but he chose not to.

From what you heard, he is a rare S-rank Guide. Most espers would try hook up with him atleast make a contract with someone like him. He would rather spend his time painting his nails, crochetting, organising or planning his time, practicing his amazing skills on ice skating, or rather do hundred routine for his skincare than hook up with other people. Quirky, Alright. Still, this doesn't stop people from wanting to go between his pants and his fame.

To people he is a swan. He is epitome of perfection.

You always see him pass by to your department, always getting called by the principal,inviting him to do a photoshoot, using his face as an advertisment for upcoming enrollent or any event inside the university. You never dwell yourself to swoon on to him whenever he pass by. Fine, you do like him. But not the kind of like where you are romantically interest to him. You just admire his looks, his talents and that's about it. You just don't like he was too friendly, there's nothing wrong with that but invading someone else personal bubble space—and the feeling of shame on yourself for being near someone kind as him—as if you two are already close is not your thing to a person you rarely talk to. Unlike him, you are the quite the opposite when it comes to socialising,You like being alone, you aren't anti-social, atleast, that's what you think you are. You are confident by yourself. An Introvert.

You just like the silence. It eases your deteriorating mind—(stupid esper curse) Somewhere peace and quiet,reading books, listening to music—gosh laufey and wave to earth and even (favorite singer/composer) always sound so good, spending time with your pets, to drown out insanity voices piling up in your head. Although you just have a few friends, you love to be alone. You once dream about getting a job. To work hard and earn a good money, once you have enough money. You would spend it to buy a house and lot somewhere away from the city and nearby the countryside with a small farm. Letting your family and friends to visit you time to time in occassions. Where you can spend the rest of your life alone and happy. A dream that would be come true if only you didn't awakened as an esper after you reach 18.

As for the guy who has the entire school and other people folded for him. He is choosing you to lend his attention, to a person who doesn't like attention. So why was he talking to someone who is a nobody like a B-rank Esper like you? The only interaction you had with him before he let himself in your life was when you pull him away from the bridge—you didn't know him at that time—a few exchange greeting—which of course he would be the first one to initiate it—and.... The party....

"N-ngh!!!" A whiny moan escape his lips. Your lips were on his neck drinking each of his soft sound coming from his mouth. The blaring party background can be ignore in the background thanks to the closed lock door of this room the both of you are in.You bite and nip his skin as if animal marking its prey. You didn't care if you torn his shirt, you just needed his guide seep through more, letting your body gone addicted to him. "(Y-y/n)!" The whay he whimpered your name made you groaned. The way every pulse from his body sends his guiding through your body.  You were delirious, you can't resist him—

"Missed you! Why aren't you checking my messages? You know I got worried when you didn't reply." He whined, his orbs shows concern and sadness. You look away.

"...hey." you greeted him with quieter tone. You pulled away from the hug not liking the way your body just relaxes everytime his guide powers automatically seeps through your body. You don't hate it but you don't like the way that your body depends on someone just for the sake of being sane and relax.

.... The shame you are feeling over the past few weeks.

You still feel guilty and ashamed about it everytime you remember those memory.

"I... I was busy. Had to do homework. I fell asleep and forgot to charge my phone." You told him. Another excuse. You just put your phone on do not disturb.

You don't have the guts to tell a sweet person like him to leave you alone. Well you did because you are ashamed to face him but he insisted it was never you fault. It always ended up him spending time with you. You can't—you owe him more than anything—Especially now that all people's oggling to you too now that you have the attention of the star. They would try to befriending you so that they could get closer to him.

Gosh, you are getting tired. Why can't people leave you alone?

You missed the old times where you can be at peace. No drama, nowhere near on people who wants attention.

"O-oh. Well that's alright."he chided before grabbing your hands with both of his. His smooth hands rubbing against your ragged callouses. He continued, "well actually I was wondering could you hangout out with me? This friday? I know you don't have schedule at that time since you showed me your schedule—And I want to spend more time with you!" He beamed. His smile was out of this world and it blinds you.

"I uhh .. have a plan on that time..." You words went silent as soon as your eyes sees the smile from his lips slowly fell down to his face."really?" The grip on your hands were getting uncomfortable.

"Umm.... I just wanna be on my home and well—"He gasped, his smile is coming back on his symmetrical face as he clung to your right arm."oh! Why didn't you say so? We can hangout together in your home!"

Giddy, he press his front closer to you which made you feel suffocating. His guide power automatically seeps through you again.

"N-no, Mikah... What I meant to say is I plan to rest, like spend alone on that day. A peace and quiet." You slowly pull away your hand gently from his clinging hands.

You didn't expect he would react like this. Tears are already in the corner of his eyes. His lips quivering. "W-what? Are you saying that I'm boring, I-I'm too loud? Did I do something wrong?"

The people who were eavesdropping at your conversation sent a glare and unwanted resentment towards you. 

You quickly shook your head. Your free hand clasping against his clutching ones that is gripping your poor unavailable hand. "No... It's not like that. You didn't do anything wrong.. I just want a me time... You know when... Uhhh before you and I become friends.... I just want to relax by myself.... You're a good friend and a good company but... We've been hanging out for a while... Ummm w-what I'm trying to say is... I want some time to be alone. You... You know what I mean right?"

Micah gave you a blank stare. You were getting uneasy. You bite your inner cheek. Will he lash out? He never seem to be the person who never received a refusal on his entire life. As soon as 2 seconds has passed, you noticed his eyes were akin to sadness. You feel the guilt running up to your spine.

You tried to avoid his gaze looking straight his frowning lips before getting replace by a forced grin. "Oh! I get that! You wish a time for yourself! Self care stuff in all that!" 

Your heart beats a little faster in excitement, is he finally leaving you for a bit? You were about to thank him for understanding. He does l—

"B-but!!" He grabbed your hands again.

You internally groan. Does he even know the word no? Of course he don't.

He never had someone says no to him. Everything he request would be at his feet. You can't yell or be rude. That's not in your nature and plus if you done it. His fans would kill you.

"I need to be with you o-on friday! You know... I wanna spend my birthday with you.. P-please? your presence alone is enough a gift for me." He stammers. You blink in surprise. "I-I promise I won't bother you the next day if you really wanna spend t-time for yourself..."

Birthday?

"T-to be honest.... I don't like parties uhmm..." He lick his lips as if the word 'party' is a taboo between the two of you." Especially my birthday parties because a-although people greet me a happy birthday or any party occasion and stuff they never really mean it. They... Always use that as an excuse to use me for my fame or my money that I earned so hard in those competitions... I.. I plan to not throw one b-because m-my family isn't forcing me anymore... I just want to spend my birthday w-with you. Y-you're the only d-decent person who treated me normally."he stammer.  You feel a lump on your throat when he says you're a decent. "I... I know... Umm I'm asking to much f-from you and I know... you didn't mean to do that—" he continues to rambles that some of his words can't form a right sentence. You noticed his eyes were in the verge of tears, threatening to drop from his eyes. 

"I'm.... Not a decent person." You told him looking away from him, ashamed and hurt were written in your face.Your voice grew quiet but the man Infront catch on what you said, already refering to the 'incident' between the two of you. He bit his lower lips and almost yelled. His face pull out a sad look. It made him look cute if it's from a tears of joy."Y-you are ! You are a decent person! You know it's not your f-fault! You were d-drugged a-and I... I was drunk! W-we both know we weren't in o-our right minds! You never hurted me—!" He starts hiccuping. "You're a-a good person! W-what happened between that night s-should b-be buried! Y-you're a good friend! It's not your fault! It's not your f-fault!" With that he burst into tears.

You didn't expect for him to cry. You panic mentally. What should you do on these type of situations? You pull him for a hug—albeit stiffeningly."Ok... Ok... Don't cry.... I don't like it... When you cry.. I'm sorry." You told him honestly, truthfully this is not the first time he argued about the incident with you.

You still feel ashamed of yourself. You really do. 

The party. If only you didn't come to your friend's party. The guilt won't eat you. No matter how many times Micah convinced you that none of it was your fault. You feel like you can't face him. He did say he was also drunk at the time but still... You could have gotten home earlier and didn't force yourself on him.

You cried and apologised so many times from him at that time, swearing you will turn yourself over to the police and never let him see your face again. You saw how his whole body was full of marks, hickeys, and bruises. He look like he got ravage. His clothes were thorn and you wish the drug in your system that time killed you.

Micah's eyes light up and a smirk forming from his lips as he nuzzle his face on your neck, pretending to cry even more. Everything is planned, everything worked for him to get you under his palm. He can feel the guilt eating you. 

"... it's okay... Hik... " He sob sneaking in to kiss your neck. You are to busy awkwardly and hesitantly patting his back and hugging him and the man love every second of it.

From the moment you save him from jumping off the bridge, he needed to make you his. Someone who genuinely cares for him from this greedy world is something he needed to treasure.

Oh how he had you wrap around his fingers the moment you accepted that drug-disguise juice from one of his friends offered by the man himself. It's your fault.

It doesn't matter. You're under his palm forever. Everything is 100% perfect.