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starmapz · 1 day ago

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what you know - ch8: hysteria || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ��

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety (attacks). tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 17.7k (oops).

❦ a/n ; please note the tags have been updated.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

Although not particularly cold throughout the holidays, a frigid air settles over the city shortly after the date turns to the new year. As usual, Gojo held his annual frat party that you’re required to be at by virtue of being his friend, though you end up being one of many single party-goers who dips into a corner as the clock strikes midnight. The idea of a stranger’s lips wandering to yours doesn’t sit well in your stomach and although you asked if he would attend, Sukuna had promised his little brothers a celebration, just the three of them. Not that you would kiss Sukuna anyway, of course-

Yuji had apparently never celebrated the new year, too young to understand previously, though based on the photo in your email inbox, he didn’t get to celebrate this one either. A blurry photo taken from the camera on Sukuna’s laptop, pointed down at Yuji sound asleep in his lap while he and Choso had MarioKart running in the background had been the telltale sign.

You can’t blame him for not having a phone, but sometimes you do wish you could text rather than email. Especially with your friendship seeming to blossom as of late. It took a bit of nurturing to get to this point, but Sukuna seems to recognize his faults and actively tries to work on and better himself. Regardless of his often-irritable demeanor, you appreciate the effort on his part.

Snowflakes settle in your palm as you hold it out in front of you on the walk to the lunch hall. Settling back into the flow of having classes early in the mornings brings with it a dreary haze that hangs over the student body, yourself included. Not a single soul seems to be well-rested, apart from one person.

“Good morning,” Kento greets you with a warm smile, running a hand through his golden locks.

“Morning, Kento,” you greet him in return, your attention trained on the snowflakes melting on the warmth of your skin. “How was it, going back home?”

“It was relaxing,” he replies, a frown pulling at his lips as he takes in your dazed expression. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to join us.”

“That’s alright! I really did appreciate your offer to pay for my tickets, but it didn’t feel right,” you shoot him a smile, though quickly return your attention to your hand.

Auburn irises flicker down to your palm, trying to figure out what’s holding your interest so adamantly. “I understand, although it really wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Really, it’s fine, Nanamin. Satoru, Suguru, and Sukuna all had me over and I talked to my parents a bunch,” you assure him, finally dropping your hand and wiping the condensation on the front of your coat.

“Sukuna?” He asks, his brows raising, though it’s more of a rhetorical question as he’s already aware he’ll be doing Sukuna a favor at some point in the new year.

“He’s put in a lot of effort to make up for what happened.” Your tone is somewhat clipped, coming out unintentionally defensive.

Nanami’s gaze flickers to your face, catching the minute knit of your brows and tension in your shoulders. “I should hope so. Either way, I wasn’t making any accusations. Simply an observation.”

You sigh. “I know, sorry. I think I’m just a bit exhausted,” you chuckle, shooting him an apologetic smile. “I can’t believe we’re already back to it. The break felt so short.”

“I agree,” he hums as he opens the door to the lunch hall for you. With a grateful smile, you slip past him and head towards your regular table. Looks like you won’t be the first to arrive this semester. You and Kento are the last to arrive, taking your seats and beginning to pull out your lunches as you get back into the swing of lunches on campus.

Just as you pull out some leftover pasta, Sukuna takes a seat beside you. He looks worse for wear, even more exhausted than you. His sleep schedule is always atrocious, so you can only imagine what it would look like without classes.

“Hey, Kuna!” You grin as you greet him.

In usual Sukuna fashion, he leans over the table on his elbow, resting his chin against his palm. “Princess.” He yawns quietly, his eyes briefly fluttering shut.

“Long day?” You ask, amused but sympathetic.

“Long fuckin’ day,” he agrees, his chest rumbling in faint laughter. “Y’know, you usually don’t look as tired as I-”

“Hey hotshot, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Gojo blurts out suddenly, interrupting Sukuna.

With a deadpan expression, the tattooed man’s jaw clenches in barely-masked irritation. Of all days, Sukuna could only have hoped Gojo would keep his mouth shut today, unable to deal with his bullshit in this state. “The hell did I do?” He rolls his shoulders, as though prepping for a fight.

Can’t these two get along just for once?

“You were on my balcony at the end of finals party, and let some couple fuck on my bed!” He points an accusatory finger at Sukuna’s chest, his nose scrunching in disgust at the mere thought.

Slowly, you bring a hand up to cover your mouth in realization. As you glance at Sukuna, you’re surprised to see his expression has relaxed somewhat, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “What, you think I broke in to let some other couple fuck?” Sukuna sneers, practically reveling in the way Gojo scoffs. “I didn’t do it on purpose, asshole.” He tilts his head towards you, crimson eyes filled with amusement. “Why don’t you tell him?”

You can tell from his tone he’s enjoying this way too much. “Um- well-” you wince as Satoru’s expression falls, dramatic betrayal written across his face in bolded marker. “I may have unlocked your room to get some air and… kinda didn’t lock the door behind me.” You mutter the last portion into your hand, a sheepish shrug the best you can offer him.

“It was you?” He whines, lip curled in utter disbelief.

“And to think he blamed Sukuna this whole time,” Suguru butts in, amused.

“I saw him leave the balcony!” The frat boy counters, turning his attention back to you. “I had to stay on Suguru’s floor while my mattress got cleaned,” he gripes.

“I can’t even imagine my floor was that much cleaner,” Suguru quips teasingly, a mischievous glimmer in his golden eyes.

Satoru jabs him in the side before turning his attention to you. “You owe me. No, you double owe me because I had you over for Christmas dinner too!” He waggles his spoon at you, before dropping it in his soup with all the dramatic flair he can muster.

“I’m so sorry, Satoru! I promise it was an accident.” You offer your best apologetic smile.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing. “It’s fiiiine. Just… buy me drinks next time we go out or something.”

“I’d like to think I should be compensated for dealing with Satoru’s whining,” Suguru chimes in, entertained by the whole ordeal.

Shaking your head at the raven-haired man’s blatant teasing, you giggle quietly, your elbow lightly brushing Sukuna. He’s still leaning over the table, close enough to feel his breath fan your arm with each rise and fall of his chest.

“After consulting my bank account, I can get Suguru one drink, and Satoru two,” you offer.

“Deal!”

“Deal.”

Sukuna shakes his head, shooting a final glance at Satoru that doesn’t hold the amusement he regarded you with before his full attention shifts back to you. “Just gonna throw me under the bus like that, huh?” He gruffs. Beyond the tired glaze that paints his eyes is a mirthful gleam, reserved only for you as he observes the way you sheepishly chuckle.

“My bad,” you scratch at the back of your neck, your cheeks heating up as his arm brushes yours. “I was gonna jump in, I swear!”

“Mhm.” Sukuna lets out a long breath, leaning back comfortably over the table and putting some distance between you. Just as he begins to zone out, lost in thought over the lawsuit, he sits up straight, his attention drawn to Kento. “Did you find a time to meet with- uh- Kento?”

“Oh!” You gently nudge Kento at Sukuna’s reminder. “Can you and your friend meet up on…” you glance back at Sukuna to fill in the blank as his schedule is much more packed than yours usually is.

“Friday. After four.”

Kento spins to face you, his watchful gaze doing a once-over of Sukuna. “I can get back to you on that. It should work for me, but I’ll need to speak with him.”

You grin. “Great! If that works, can we meet at the cafe across from the Science building?”

Kento nods. “I’ll let you know this afternoon. I believe I share a class with him.”

The two men on either side of you exchange another tense glance, letting the uneasy atmosphere dissolve as they mutually redirect their attention elsewhere. Sukuna leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his crossed arms, his eyes watching with mild interest as you take a bite of your leftover pasta.

Just as you’re about to offer him a bite, your lips purse in surprise as two men you don’t recognize take seats in front of Sukuna. It only clicks who they must be when Uraume takes a seat on Sukuna’s opposite side. You shoot them a warm smile as the salmon-haired man’s head lifts.

You can’t tell what’s going through Sukuna’s mind as he grunts out a “what are you doin’ here?”

The man sitting on Gojo’s left, who’s currently receiving a deeply displeased glare from your snowy-haired friend, has black hair that falls straight over his forehead and a scar on his lip. Beside him is a man with spiked brown hair and a toothpick between his teeth. His lips seem to be drawn in a perpetual frown. He speaks up first. “We haven’t seen you since the party.”

The man with the scarred lip smirks. “That, and Uraume was mentionin’ your girl wanted to meet us.”

Sukuna’s lip curls in frustration, a deathly glare burning his friend for calling you his girl. He introduces you, making a point of calling you his friend, before pointing out Toji, with the scar, and Atsuya.

With a grin and deeply warmed cheeks, you point out each of the members of your friend group. Haibara and Shoko are as sweet as ever, while Geto and Nanami are kind. Gojo, on the other hand, seems frustrated with the arrival of the group, in particular Toji, which you suppose makes sense if the man’s got a penchant for being a pain even by Sukuna’s standards from what you’ve heard.

In spite of Toji’s immediate overbearing teasing, he seems nice enough, and with their arrival, Sukuna becomes slightly more talkative. He’s slowly coming out of his shell around you, which you’re grateful for.

“So,” Toji begins, mischief dancing across his emerald irises, “how in the world did ya manage to get through to this asshole?” He questions you, jabbing a thumb towards Sukuna at your side.

You giggle, not missing the way Sukuna’s jaw clenches. “Not easily.”

“I’ll say. I’ve known ‘im since we were kids and I’m still not part of his Christmases,” he scoffs.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckin’ dick, I’d invite you,” Sukuna scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You could always invite Sukuna, could you not?” Uraume points out to Toji, who scoffs, his expression deadpan.

“Oh yeah, who wants t’ come to the Zenin Family Dinner? Drop on by, we got my fuckass uncle, my asshole grandparents and Naoya. Who wouldn’t wanna join?” He jeers, sarcasm dripping from each and every word.

“Is that the ‘Naoya’ you punched?” You ask, keeping your voice low for only Sukuna to hear as you lean towards him.

“Mhm.”

“‘Sides,” Toji begins, “your dad used to invite me every year, dunno what I did to get uninvited.”

Oh.

He doesn’t know.

Sukuna’s leg bounces absentmindedly under the table at the mention of his father, his gaze averting to a nearby wall in an effort to keep his reaction neutral.

“You know, I could host something next year,” you offer in an effort to divert attention away from the topic of Sukuna’s father. To your horror, the table goes silent. The tension coming off of Satoru and Toji in waves is palpable, and you’re beyond grateful for Shoko, Kento, and Uraume, the first three at the table to chime in.

“Sounds like fun.”

“I would join.”

“That sounds lovely.”

You let out a sigh of relief as gradually, the rest of the table begins to agree, even the two men who seem to continually be at odds with one another. You have half a mind to wonder how that even happened given that Satoru’s usually the one to get under others’ skin, not vice versa.

As conversation begins to return, Sukuna quietly mutters a “thanks” in your ear that sends a shiver straight down your spine before burying his face in his arms as you finish your meal. The tension in the air doesn’t fully dissolve but at the very least, Satoru and Toji choose to simply not acknowledge one another.

With a glance at the time on your phone, you begin packing up once you finish your lunch. A couple of others at the table check the time as they take notice of your actions, using the opportunity to pack up as no one wants to be late on the first day of class. With nothing to pack up himself, Sukuna swings his bag over his shoulder and mumbles a “see ya,” heading for the door before you can stop him.

Even with how far your friendship has come, it seems some things never change.

With a sigh, you turn back to the table. “It was nice to meet you, Toji and Atsuya,” you smile politely.

“Likewise,” Atsuya agrees with a tired smile.

“‘Course. Had to meet the woman Sukuna’s been ditchin’ us for.” Toji shoots you a shit-eating grin, something you don’t dare read into as your face warms at the mere thought of being the person Sukuna seems to always choose.

“See you all later,” you call out to the broader table, met with a chorus of goodbyes. “Text me, Sho!”

Hurrying out the door to your next class, you zip up your coat as you make your way through the frozen wasteland that separates you from Literature History. At least the weather had relented somewhat from the beginning of December, offering a more mild bite that didn’t seem to seep into the very fiber of your being.

Still, it’s a hell of a lot colder than it was before the new year.

With a huff as you cross the barrier into the building where your next class is, you let the warmth envelop you, grateful for the shelter from the bitter wind outside. Winter had only really begun to settle over the city in the last month, but you’re ready for spring to arrive. Even if it means more finals.

Sighing at the thought of starting the entire dance over again- class, studying, finals, not to mention your required internship- you push through the door to the lecture hall, briefly pausing at the bottom of the class to search for a familiar face.

And god fucking damn it, the way your eyes light up when you spot Sukuna could practically make him dizzy. He’s careful that his crimson stare doesn’t give away the strange way his chest tightens at the mere sight of your beaming smile, keeping his expression indifferent as his gaze trails your path.

You jog up the stairs until you find a place beside him, grinning as you slide into the seat. “I was gonna ask what your next class was, but you left so fast,” you comment, getting settled as you pull out your laptop.

“Mm,” Sukuna watches your movements, his eyes trailing your manicured nails. Pink. They almost match his hair.

Why is he even thinking about this?

“Didn’t wanna be late,” he excuses his actions, finally meeting your eyes.

Your bottom lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout. “At least walk with me when we have class together.”

He lets out a long breath through his nose. “Yeah, alright, princess,” he teases, unable to help his smirk as he settles back into familiar territory with you and the strange flutter in his chest eases.

The professor walks in, writing her name in large font across the whiteboard at the front of the room as she begins her introduction to the class.

“Y’know,” Sukuna leans closer, his voice lowering so as not to disturb the other students. “Apparently the prof’s a huge conspiracy theorist.”

“Really?” You ask, interest gleaming behind narrowed eyes.

“Mhm. Supposedly she believes Shakespeare never existed.”

“Like, she believes the anti-Stratfordian theory?” You ask, tilting your head. That’s not an unreasonable theory, to believe that many of the plays typically associated with Shakespeare were perhaps written by another famous playwright or author under a pseudonym that happened to match the name of a living man.

“Nah. ‘Parently she believes he never existed,” Sukuna shrugs.

“But- he did. Maybe not the one we know, but there’s proof of his birth and death records. He has a grave,” you point out.

“I know that,” he smirks. “I heard she rambled about that theory and Dickens’ death for an hour last semester.”

You blink twice. “You’re kidding.” Groaning as quietly as you can muster, you drag your hands down your face. “I can’t afford to have another history professor who rambles. And the Dickens theory isn’t even interesting,” you tack on in a grumble.

“You’ll be fine,” Sukuna chuckles, amused at your reaction. “Literature’s your thing, ain’t it?”

“Well… yeah, but you know how I am with names, dates and faces.”

“And you know how to study for that,” he points out, nudging your shoulder. “‘Sides, you’ll have-”

“If something is so interesting that you feel the need to interrupt, Mr. Sukuna,” the professor’s voice booms around the lecture hall as all eyes land on the pair of you. Sukuna keeps his cool, which you’re thankful for as you pale and shrink into your seat. “Then I would suggest you come up here and share with the class.”

He doesn’t bother to reply, simply giving a wave of his hand for her to continue. It’s not exactly the polite response you would have given, but with a final glance between you both, she turns back to the broader class to continue the lecture.

Sukuna eyes you from his peripherals as you slowly relax back into your seat when you’re no longer the center of attention. If you bristled so much from just being called out, he can only imagine the pain you went through when he left you hanging last semester. He frowns to himself at the thought, his attention never fully given to the professor as much as he tries.

His mind wanders between the introduction to Elizabethean and Jacobean literature and the way your nails tap against your keyboard as you type up notes. As the class drags on and his mind drifts further and further from the lecture, he leans back in his seat and roughly drags his hands over his face.

He’s exhausted beyond belief, frustrated with his schedule for this semester, frustrated with Toji for sticking his nose in Sukuna’s business, irritated with himself for not paying attention for something he’s paying a lot of money to attend, and to top it all off, he knows he has a long day ahead of him.

It’s not like it’s a first, most days are long in his world, but today he’s all the more frustrated and it’s wearing him thin.

So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t even realize the room is shuffling until your laptop shuts beside him, the dull snap bringing him back to reality. As you slip your laptop into a sleeve and delicately place it in your bag, he follows suit, tucking his laptop into his backpack and throwing his coat on.

He even supposes he’ll wait for you this time around, given that he has some time before picking up his brothers for once.

You pause in front of him, zipping your jacket up as you type out a message on your phone. “Looks like Friday works for Kento’s friend.”

Sukuna nods, his brow knit. “I’ll need to bring Cho and Yu. Uraume’s got late classes this semester and our neighbor’s away this week.”

You pause for a moment as you consider what that means. “You’ll need to tell them.” Your tone is somber, your voice quiet. He almost doesn’t hear you over the bustling of students exiting the lecture hall.

He nods slowly, a muscle in his jaw ticking. One might even argue he’s too aware of that fact. You can physically see gears turning in his mind, a question sitting atop his tongue that he doesn’t want to voice.

“What’s wrong, Kuna?” You query gently, tilting your head to look up at him. The tattoo along the length of his jaw stretches along his skin as he grimaces.

“D’you have another class?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t wanna talk about it here.” With a large hand on the small of your back, he directs you out of the hall and back into the cold, his palm lifting from your warmth to run through his tousled locks.

If only he knew the way your stomach flipped from such a simple touch.

Regardless, he probably should have asked if you had any plans for the afternoon, rather than simply dragging you off campus and towards his brothers’ school, but the thought is lost on him. Luckily for him, you might be a little too understanding of the man who unknowingly holds your heart, so you don’t say a word as he silently leads you in a direction that you recognize.

Really, you could have at least gotten your car instead of trudging through the cold.

Before you can protest, Sukuna finally finds the words to voice his thoughts.

“What if I’m lookin’ at this the wrong way?” He gruffs, tense and raw with emotion that isn’t often something you associate with him.

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but you can’t quite tell where his meaning lies. “What way is that?”

“Been thinkin’. I mean, she’s their mother, right? What if they’re better off with her? What if they wanna go with her and I’m puttin’ up a fight they don’t want me to win?”

It hits you like a ton of bricks. The impact nearly pushes the breath from your lungs and causes your stride to falter. If Sukuna notices, he doesn’t slow down and it takes you a moment to catch up, his words still sinking in.

“Wait- What?” You splutter, grappling with the severity of his grievance. He keeps his pace up, not even sparing you a glance. “Sukuna, wait-” You tug on his forearm, tearing his arm from his pocket as he pauses to look at you finally.

Distant. He didn’t hear you.

Blinking twice, you pull him to the edge of the sidewalk to keep his attention on you and away from the noise of the city around you. The lights, the people, the cars, it all seems to encroach on you and muddle your thoughts, you can only imagine the mileage his mind is currently making.

Certain that you have his focus now, you repeat yourself. “What are you talking about? You know they need you.”

He sighs, an air of irritation settling over him as he stares at the brick to your left. “They need a guardian, doesn’t mean they need me. Been thinkin’ maybe they’d want to go with her. With their mother.”

You pause, considering the question for yourself for a moment. You can sympathise with wanting what’s best for them, but it doesn’t sit well with you that he doubts himself so much when you can see what he means to those kids.

“You need to tell them what’s going on anyway, so I think it’s worth asking,” you agree. It’s the right thing to do regardless of the outcome. “But,” you add in a gentler tone, offering a kind smile, “they’ll choose you.”

His eyes snap to you, a tense set to his musculature. “What makes you so sure?” He almost sounds offended.

“They love you, Sukuna.” His brow twitches, his mouth opening to protest, but you continue. “You told me you couldn’t get a hold of their mom when your dad passed, right?”

He nods tensely.

“What kind of mother does that?” You point out. “Imagine how that would make Choso feel.”

You pause, letting the thought sink in. Sukuna doesn’t reply, absently cracking a knuckle.

He’d been so caught up all those years ago in the loss of their father and his own grief that he’d hardly considered that Choso’s grief had likely been twofold. The child had lost his father just like Sukuna, but he’d also had to deal with the loss of his mother. Not only that, but it was more like the active rejection of his mother, because the reality is that Sukuna tried hard to get a hold of her. Looking back, he knows he was in no way ready to parent his brothers and it was rocky at the start. He should never have let Choso sit at his side in tears as he tried every method he could to reach her.

Sukuna had always accepted that Choso got quieter as simply a part of his grief. The little boy had always teetered on the shy side of things, but Sukuna wonders now if there’s more to that. If his silence is a result of sitting alongside his frustrated and grief-stricken older brother as his mother chose not to reply.

When Sukuna’s silence extends, you do your best to guide him from the dark recesses that his mind attempts to take him to. “Would Yuji even remember her?”

Shit. Sukuna’s all Yuji’s ever known. If he doesn’t remember their father, there’s no way in hell he remembers his mother.

Sukuna drags a hand down his face. Coming to terms with the gravity of his own mistakes is one thing, but they don’t even begin to match up to the rejection of their mother.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, taking a step back to pace in front of the wall. Giving him the space and time he needs, you simply watch as he huffs and sighs. Fiddling with your neatly manicured nails, you wait patiently for him to organize his thoughts, only to frown when he shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. In one smooth motion, he flips his lighter open and smoke trails like rippling water up into the cold air. He leans against the wall, leaning his head back against the brick as he exhales smoke into the overcast sky.

The nicotine calms his jittery mind enough to allow him the space to function within the claustrophobia of his thoughts. Inhaling deeply, he pushes off the wall and returns to you finally, looking up to exhale smoke away from you.

“Uraume’s right, you know.”

Any other time, Sukuna would have let that slide, knowing it was meant to be a cheeky little quip about his vice.

But today’s a bad fucking day for him.

“So I’ve been told.” There’s enough bite to his words that you’re actually a bit surprised at his choice of tone, but even looking back on that drunk night fumbling through apologies, this is the most stressed you’ve ever seen him. His face is gaunt, pale with dark shadows beneath his eyes, and as you take in his outfit, you realize he’s wearing the hoodie he usually throws on after his showers.

If you were to wager a guess, he’s probably wearing last night’s clothes. He doesn’t attempt to hide the tension that grips his muscles and claws at his brow, either.

It’s clear that the thoughts he’s been sharing with you are ones that have been plaguing him as of late. He’s likely been grappling with the idea of telling his brothers about the lawsuit since you last saw him at Christmas. But that’s the thing about Sukuna, he would never ask for help. It’s a miracle he wanted to talk at all.

You let his snappy tone slide, giving him the benefit of the doubt that it’s not intentional. After all, he did ask you to come out here in the cold with him to talk.

Well, maybe ‘asked’ is the wrong word, but he made it clear he wanted you here to talk.

Still, the tension that hangs between you isn’t the usual alluring tension that draws you to him. It’s not uncomfortable, but you would certainly prefer the usual silence with him. It hangs between you in the delicate balance of Sukuna’s startlingly fragile tenacity, which only serves to sympathize you to him in spite of his loose temper.

Sukuna taps a finger on the edge of his cigarette. The ember tip falls to the ground in a pile of ash, melting a small crater of snow at his feet. Choosing not to acknowledge the rigidity that strains the quiet air, he casts a glance at his watch and nods in the direction of his brothers’ school.

“Don’t wanna be late,” he grunts, smoke escaping from the corners of his lips. With one final inhalation, he tosses the cigarette on the ground and stomps it out, turning on his heel to lead the way to the school.

You chew absently on your lip, trailing slowly after him.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, your mind grasping at the conversations of the people passing you by in an effort to fill the dead air. It’s suffocating being in Sukuna’s presence when he’s made a point of having you near, while simultaneously being bull-headed as he holds you at arms’ length.

“They ask for you a lot.”

You take a couple of long strides to catch up with him, thankful that he breaks the ice. Fiddling with the woven bracelets that are still tied to your wrist, you smile. “That’s really sweet. They’re good kids.”

Sukuna casts you a glance. He can see uncertainty in your eyes. He’s not stupid, he knows it’s his fault. But some stubborn part of him holds something akin to a grudge against you for pointing out something he knows is bad for him.

He’s got bigger problems than his nicotine addiction.

When Sukuna doesn’t reply, you swallow nervously. “You’ve raised them well, Kuna.”

Piercing irises snap towards you, flitting between your eyes. “‘M not so sure about that.”

“Aren’t you proud of them?” You push, tilting your head.

Sukuna’s chest clenches. He averts his gaze, grimacing. “‘Course.”

“Then why wouldn’t you think you raised them well?”

“I’m not what they need,” he replies simply.

Your gaze narrows, lips pursing in confusion. “They need a roof over their heads and food on the table. You’re good to them, Sukuna.”

He sighs heavily. “They need someone more attentive. Someone who can be home and dote over them.”

“Dote?” You parrot, the corner of your lip twitching up. “I’ve seen you dote.”

He scoffs. “As if.”

“What do you call your gifts to them?”

A crease forms between his brows. “That wasn’t doting. It hardly meant anything.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, and I don’t think you do either,” you tease, prodding his shoulder and chancing his patience with you.

He scowls down at you, huffing.

You giggle quietly, your breath visible in the air before you. Quieting down, you nudge him gently. “You know just how much those gifts meant to them. You’re exactly what they need, Sukuna. And I think you’re what they want, too.”

Sukuna falters, catching himself quickly enough to play it off like he tripped. Somehow, that’s the less embarrassing option here, he thinks.

“Maybe.” It comes out weaker than intended, and he’s grateful that the steps up to the front of the school offer an escape from the conversation. He may have started it, but like most other difficult conversations he dragged you into, he usually finds himself reluctant to continue them.

Something about how well you know his brothers, how well you know him, shakes him to his very core and he’s not willing to touch that thought with a ten foot pole.

To his relief, the bell rings and a teacher guides a class of young, bright-eyed children out of the school to reunite them each with those meant to pick them up. As Yuji crosses the school’s barrier, she points the two of you out and the little boy goes barreling towards you both.

“Kunaaaaa!” He cries out excitedly, attaching himself like a koala to his older brother’s leg. Sukuna grunts, lifting him into the air as he easily keeps his balance. The little boy giggles, his eyes opening to look at his brother, when he spots you.

Hopping from his brother’s arms with wide, excited eyes, he leaps into your arms as you extend them to him. “You’re here!” He cheers, arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug.

You giggle, doing your best to hold the boy up as he clings tightly to you. “How was school, Yu?”

“It was great! We’re learning about the oceans and sharks, and-”

As Yuji excitedly tells you about his day, Choso dips through the doorway, his eyes scanning the steps for Sukuna. As he spots both of you, a small smile makes its way to his lips and he jogs over with his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack.

Sukuna ruffles the boy’s hair, who smooths it down in response, a gleam in his eyes as he waves at the sight of you beside his brother. You smile back at him, unable to wave with the youngest Itadori in your arms. Sukuna begins leading the way back towards his apartment, listening to Yuji’s ramblings.

“- did you know that seals eat penguins? I could never eat a penguin, they’re so cute. I think seals should eat something else.”

“You think so?” You giggle at Yuji’s adamant statement.

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding his head. “They should just eat fish and get along with the penguins. Like you and Kuna.”

Your brow raises and you cast a glance at Sukuna, who’s also now staring at the pink-haired boy with mild interest.

“What do you mean ‘like me and Sukuna’, sweetheart?” You ask curiously, your heart doing a flip.

“You’re like a penguin because you’re really cool and nice and Kuna’s like a seal because he’s a meanie but he’s also cool. I think if seals were more like my big brother, they’d get along with penguins. Like you guys.”

Kids are wild.

You laugh as Yuji explains himself, your tone sitting somewhere between genuine chortles and something to fill a silence that might otherwise be awkward. “Tell me more about your brother being like a seal,” you urge, knowing it’ll ruffle Sukuna’s carefully preened feathers.

Yuji stares up at the clouds in thought. Your arms are beginning to tire, but you’ll hold him as long as you can, even if you know you’re holding up the walking pace. “Ummmm… well, some seals have spots and Sukuna has some on his shoulders, but he’s more stripey, like a tiger-”

“They’re not stripes, brat,” Sukuna hisses, but Yuji continues on without a care in the world.

“- and seals eat a lot and so does Kuna-”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough.”

Undeterred, the little boy continues. “- and apparently seals are really good parents, just like Kuna. I know he’s our brother, but he’s the best parent ever.”

It hits Sukuna like a shot through the chest, piercing clean straight through his heart and leaving behind a bloody hole. His jaw is heavy set as he does what he can to mask the way his little brother’s words affected him. The last thing he needs is a worried twelve-year-old and an ‘i told you so’ from you.

Because it’s then that it strikes him that you’re right.

Time and time again, you prove to him just how much he means to his brothers and each and every time he’s left balancing precariously on a cliff as he does what he can to hide the way his feet damn near betray him at the edge. It’s not like he has any reason to be upset with you over this, but to be known is to be seen, and that’s not something Sukuna’s accustomed to.

He has no issue with being the campus’ mysterious and hot ‘bad boy’, as much as the title serves to make him roll his eyes. It’s little more than a generic title given to him for surface-level facts and rumors.

To have you call him out so clearly, to be so utterly correct time after time when it comes to him and his family… He’s not sure how he feels about that. It stirs something deep within and he grits his teeth as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

Sukuna’s brow is deeply furrowed, his steps falling heavily on the snow-clad sidewalk. Ever observant, of course you caught the way his jaw trembled subtly when he heard his brother, but the moment was gone before you had a chance to consider it. Now, he just looks frustrated, even more so than usual.

It seems the new year brought with it the realization of just how close the court date is, and how horribly underprepared he is.

“Is that so?” You question Yuji, although your gaze never leaves Sukuna, brow knit in concern for him.

“Yeah! He’s the coolest!”

“He is, isn’t he?” You reply softly, shooting a look at Sukuna, who scowls at you both with an expression you can’t place.

You have to set Yuji on the ground fairly soon after, and ask Choso how his day was. The walk is spent listening to both brothers chat about their days as Sukuna is otherwise silent. Arriving at Sukuna’s front door, he tells the kids to head inside and wait for him in the lobby, waiting until they’re two doors away to talk to you.

“Will you be alright?”

Something akin to offense passes over his eyes. It’s clear that no matter what you do, everything is getting under his skin today, so you think it’s best to leave. Besides, this is something he needs to do on his own.

“I’ll be fine,” he grits, continuing to scowl down at you. Even as frustrated as he is, his gaze softens as he stares past you and realizes you’ll need to walk back to your car on campus. “Email me when you get home,” he mutters, turning on his heel and leaving you standing out in the cold without another word.

Before he can shut the door behind him, you hesitantly take a step forward, catching the edge of the door. “Let me know if you want to talk.”

He stares at you for a split-second, contempt burning behind red irises that has you frowning at him, hurt that he’s been so short with you today. As though he realizes the same, the furrow to his brow lessens and he hums, nodding.

If that’s the most you’ll get out of him, so be it.

He turns back towards the lobby, passing through the second set of doors and following the kids as they lead the way up to the apartment. Choso reaches for Sukuna’s keys and unlocks the door, pushing through the barrier into their home. Yuji immediately goes running off to drop his bag in their room.

“Hey! Once you’re done I need you both back on the couch,” he calls after his little brother, his shoulders so tense it physically pains him to roll them back.

He can see Choso’s unease immediately, eyes wide and worried. Fuck.

Choso timidly sets his bag down in front of the couch and takes a seat at the edge of the cushion, fiddling with his fingers, the nails chewed raw. Sukuna had never noticed his brother developed that habit.

Yuji bounds excitedly to the couch, oblivious to the weighty air in the room. Choso bounces slightly as his little brother hops on the couch and plops down.

With a deep breath, Sukuna kneels down to the boys’ level, glancing between them.

“I heard from your mother,” he starts. Excitement overtakes Yuji’s expression, while Choso stiffens, his gaze anywhere but on Sukuna. “She’ll be in town soon.” He’s beating around the bush, he knows that. But how the hell do you tell two children about a lawsuit?

“Can we see her?” Yuji asks in awe.

“Lemme finish, Yu.” Sukuna takes a seat on the coffee table as his knees begin to get sore. The old wood creaks beneath his weight, not intended to support him, but it does nonetheless. “She wants ya both back.”

Sukuna pauses, letting both boys process his words.

Choso’s lips are pursed, his hands fiddling uncertainly in his lap.

“Like, we’ll all go live with her?” Yuji asks, his head tilting curiously.

Sukuna shudders at the question. If only it were so simple. “No. Just you and Choso.”

“She’s not Kuna’s mom,” Choso mutters.

In truth, Sukuna’s done a bad job of explaining their family to Yuji, making the assumption he’s too young to understand. Maybe he’s right, but it seems Choso’s willing to tell him the portions that Sukuna doesn’t want to touch.

“But… Kuna’s our brother too,” Yuji protests, frowning.

Sukuna sighs, a pang in his heart. “Listen,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “if she takes you, I won’t get to be a part of your life. If that’s what you want-”

“No!” Yuji cries out, interrupting Sukuna’s question. Choso’s fidgeting hasn’t stopped, but he has yet to say a word.

“Gimme a moment, Yu. If that’s what you want, that’s fine. I’ll let her take ya-”

“Kuna? Why do you keep saying ‘take’?” Choso finally finds his voice, eyes teary as though he already understands.

Sukuna’s lips press into a thin line, his leg bouncing as he contemplates his reply. The coffee table creaks relentlessly beneath him.

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m fit to take care of you. She’s-” he cuts himself off, running his tongue over his teeth in his mouth. “She’s tryna take you back, legally.”

“Legally?” Yuji parrots, his lips pursed.

Sukuna averts his gaze, looking for answers anywhere within the apartment, but he’s met only with a dull silence and Choso’s quiet sniffles. It’s clear he understands, and Sukuna wants nothing more than to assure him that he can win the legal battle, but the bitter truth is that Sukuna doesn’t want to lie to them.

And he’s not so confident that he can win.

“Yu, d’you remember when we watched Mrs. Doubtfire?”

Slowly, the little boy nods.

“D’you remember the part where the mom and dad are in a big room with a judge and he takes away the dad’s custody?”

Yuji blanks, nodding, although it’s clear he still doesn't fully understand.

“Well, custody is who gets to take care of kids. Right now that’s me. She wants it to be her, and neither of us get to decide that. It’s up to the judge,” Sukuna explains, trying as best as he can to offer an unbiased explanation.

“Tell her no!” Yuji cries out.

Sukuna bites down on his cheek, his brow furrowed. “I don’t get to, Yu. She’s forcing me to show up in front of the judge.”

Ever so slowly, Choso stands up off the couch, trailing closer and closer to his older brother until he’s leaning into Sukuna’s side, silent tears trailing down his cheeks and soaking into Sukuna’s shirt. Yuji seems to be starting to understand, now standing at the edge of the couch as he adamantly stands his ground as though the lawsuit is a personal attack to him.

“No! No, I don’t wanna go without you!” He proclaims loudly, his eyes beginning to water.

Sukuna can only frown as he watches the boy grapple with something he doesn’t understand.

“I don’t-” sniffle, “- I don’t wanna!” His tears now freely fall as he barrels at full force into Sukuna as well, crying into his side. He pulls both brothers closer, his exhausted gaze set straight ahead. “Please, Kuna, please!”

The apartment is filled with Yuji’s bawls and babbles, while Choso silently clings to him. The coffee table creaks beneath the three of them with every movement, threatening to give out at any moment.

“I won’t,” sniffle, “go, p- please don’t make me go! I don’t want to,” he sobs, “I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”

Denial after denial, it’s all that fills the apartment for longer than Sukuna knows what to do about.

“I don’t-” a sob wracks Yuji’s tiny body, “- even know her. I don’t remember her,” he bawls. Sukuna squeezes him as an acknowledgement, though he’s not sure what comfort he can offer. “Why can’t you come with us?”

Sukuna bites down harder than intended on his lower lip. “Your mother doesn’t like me, Yu.”

“But you-” he gasps for air between sobs, “- you’re the best.”

The taste of iron fills Sukuna’s mouth as he swipes his tongue over his lips. His chest feels as though it could implode as he tugs his two brothers tighter against him. Yuji tightly grips Sukuna’s hoodie, his little hands tugging with the full force of a five-year-old.

“I’m gonna fight for you both, okay?” He assures.

Choso sniffles, pulling back just enough to look up at his brother. “You want us?”

If Yuji saying he was the best parent earlier was a shot through the heart, this took out whatever was left. The question barreled straight through him like a train, leaving nothing behind but pieces for Sukuna to pick up. Each piece serving as a mistake in the way he’d raised the boys.

He knows all too well that this question comes from a place of insecurity, and while Choso’s mother may have laid the seed, Sukuna watered it.

It was never intentional, he would never want Choso to feel that way, but Sukuna remembers the moment he likely solidified Choso’s insecurities all-too-well.

Three letters. Seven emails. Forty eight calls.

Make it forty nine.

“Fuck!” Sukuna slams his phone down on the table that was once his father’s.

The house that surrounds them feels foreign without his life.

Choso stares at the wood grain of the table, his eyes tracing the way it swirls. He’s long grown numb to Sukuna’s anger, especially over the past couple of weeks. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word.

He sat alongside Sukuna through each call. Through all fifty nine attempts to reach his mother, each one further solidifying Sukuna’s fate.

Sukuna, barely able to be considered an adult, is a guardian. By all accounts, he’s a parent.

Sukuna, who works for a cannabis dispensary. Sukuna, who never wanted a second family to begin with, who never wanted this responsibility, who never even wanted brothers, let alone kids, now bears the burden of fatherhood.

The legs of his chair scrape the wooden floor as he stands abruptly, running a hand over his face as he paces a small distance from the table.

He makes his way to the sink, turning the faucet to cold water and splashing it over his face. With dripping hands, he grips the edge of the counter and leans over the sink and his stomach churns and bile threatens to upend.

It wouldn’t be the first time since his father had passed away that his stomach had decided to empty itself.

With his jaw slightly ajar and his chest heaving, he pushes a wet hand through his hair, pushing himself back to his full height.

He wipes the water from his face on his sleeve, shaking his head in an effort to free his vision from his hair. His father had been so sick that Sukuna hadn’t had the time, nor the money, to bother with a haircut, or even shaving. His stubble, that of a boy barely considered an adult, is still uneven and leaves him looking as disheveled as he feels.

His eyes trail the length of the kitchen, which morphs into the living and dining room area, until they land on Choso.

The healthcare system had taken every last penny his father had left behind, and without the support of Choso and Yuji’s mother, he’s at a loss of where to go from here. Even disregarding money, he had to look up how to change a diaper. How sad is that? Looking up Youtube tutorials on what to do?

It’s not like he hadn’t looked after his brothers before, but his father never left him alone long enough to need to worry about that sort of thing. Now it seemed that changing a diaper was the least of his problems.

He teetered constantly somewhere between pissed off and lost and had no one to fall back on, something that became painfully obvious when he’d contemplated going to the hospital when his chest tightened so much that breathing was a forced effort. In the end, he’d been able to do little more than clutch desperately at his chest as he laid on the floor of the bathroom, the cool tile the only reprieve from his lonely agony.

He could reach out to Toji. Hell, he should. But when his father got sick, Sukuna pushed him away. He pushed everyone away. He thinks he’s more comfortable alone now, even if that leaves him staring at his little brother without a clue of what to do.

Choso hasn’t said a word to him since the whole ordeal occurred. The grief had taken its toll on Sukuna’s body and attitude, but it had completely silenced his brother. Although he still stuck around Sukuna, somehow still wanting to be around the grief and anger-stricken man, he never said a word.

The oldest brother cares. He cares a whole lot about his two siblings. Even if this isn’t what he ever wanted, even if he wasn’t prepared to handle the burden of two young kids. Even if he didn’t want siblings to begin with, Sukuna grew to care.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’s filled with contempt towards their mother for shoving the two boys onto him like this.

As he stares at Choso, a stark contrast to himself and their baby brother who both resemble their father, he sees her staring back at him. Choso and Yuji’s mother.

He shouldn’t have done what he did next.

He should have thought about his reactions.

He would change everything about how he acted towards his little brother in a heartbeat if he could.

But Sukuna, mentally, was on another plane as his lip curled in disdain. “Won’t fuckin’ answer,” he mutters, more to himself although he looks straight at his brother. “Some fuckin’ mother you’ve got, kid.”

As if on cue, Yuji begins crying from another room.

“Fuck!” Sukuna cries out again, trudging angrily across the kitchen to the toddler’s room.

Just in time to make sure he doesn’t see Choso’s tears.

Sukuna’s sure that moment replays in the boy’s head constantly. He sees it every once in a while, the seed of doubt that Sukuna watered that day, along with every other day before and following. He would give anything to take back how he acted. But what the hell does one expect from your stereotypical troubled teen who doesn’t know how to cook, hardly cleans, and has no one to talk to?

What the hell was Sukuna meant to do when he’d thrown up the previous night’s dinner and laid on the floor until he woke up in a sickening daze early the next morning to Yuji crying?

He hopes, prays, to whatever god on earth will listen, that he can make up for it. Make up for all the mistakes, all the problems. Make up for the ways he’d failed his brothers.

“I do, Cho,” he answers, the first certain thing he’s managed to say since they’d arrived home. “Promise.”

Choso’s grip tightens as his face collides with Sukuna’s side so hard he thinks the poor kid’s gonna bruise his nose.

“I love you, Kuna.” Choso’s voice is so quiet that Sukuna hardly makes out what he said over his little brother’s sobs.

Yuji parrots the middle brother, though his words come out a choppy mess behind his tears. “I- love-” sniffle, “- y- you, Kunaaa.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he gruffs, grimacing. He stares at the couch, his eyes flickering between the three indentations that have formed over the last three years. The material is significantly more worn on his side of the couch, the least worn in the center where Yuji likes to sit. In the back of his mind, something akin to guilt rears its ugly head and he continues his thought before he says something he regrets.

Or, more specifically, before he doesn’t say something and regrets it.

“Love ya both too.”

–

It takes a long time, but Sukuna manages to quiet both brothers down. As a treat, he buys them chicken from Strip Joint, which they were about as thrilled as two devastated young kids could be.

He’s not sure exactly how soundly they’ll manage to sleep, but he’s thankful when Yuji passes out fairly easily after a long afternoon of relentless tears.

Shutting his door behind him, Sukuna sighs as he’s finally able to catch his breath for what feels like the first time today.

He collapses onto his bed against the headboard, running his hands over his face.

Pulling his hands back, he stares at his palms, warm and wet.

Tears.

Is he so worn thin that he can’t even feel his own tears?

Shit.

He wipes his tears on the sleeve of his poor hoodie, which is covered in Yuji’s tears, snot, and spit, Choso’s tears, and now Sukuna’s too.

He pulls it up over his head, pushing his hair back out of his face. It’s getting long again, but Sukuna doesn’t have the time to deal with it.

He hopes to god that his previous transgressions from all those years ago don’t repeat themselves simply because Sukuna’s at wit’s end.

He scratches uncomfortably at his chest, desperate for a shower, anything to take his mind off of the shitty day he’s had. Undressing, he wraps a towel around his waist and walks down the hall to climb into the shower, splaying his hands on the tiles as hot water runs over his body, cleaning him of the dirt and grime that plagues his body, alongside some of the tension in his muscles.

He blinks his eyes open as water trails down his hair, falling in a steady stream down his chin.

The day feels like a blur.

His chest tightens as his muscles relax, a familiar feeling that he fears will leave him laying on the bathroom floor again.

It hasn’t been that bad in years. He didn’t think it would ever be that bad again.

Pushing himself up, he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and wiping water from his eyes as he finishes showering. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he slips back into his room, inhaling sharply as his chest seems to compress against his lungs.

Too tired to bother with the outside world, he slips under the covers without a second thought. He doesn’t bother to check if you made it home safe. He doesn’t bother to set out his clothing for tomorrow. He doesn’t even bother to set an alarm. He simply shuts his eyes and hopes to god that he can get a full night’s rest.

Unfortunately, that’s not in the books for Sukuna.

–

Much to your dismay, you don’t see Sukuna again until Friday, four days later. It took him nearly twenty four hours to get back to your message about being home, or the subsequent one the following day upon realizing he wasn’t at lunch, nor in class.

[email protected] - Tuesday, 5:29 PM im fine. cho didnt sleep. been a long day

You had grimaced and offered condolences, but at the end of the day, you suppose there isn’t much more you can do when he’s not looking for help.

That doesn’t mean Shoko didn’t have to drag you out to the mall and convince you not to show up at his door regardless. Thankful for her distraction, you indulged in getting yourself a new sweater and celebrated the fact that oh my god, your history prof from last semester was suspended for his (terrible) teaching methods?? If only the school had done that one semester earlier.

Then again, maybe you wouldn’t be nearly as close with Sukuna if that were the case.

Maybe that would have been for the best.

But the tightness in your heart tells you otherwise as you sit alone in your Literature History class.

It’s funny, that without Sukuna’s distraction beside you, you’re somehow finding it harder to focus without him in the chair beside you. Absently typing at your keyboard, you stare at the screen, your eyes trailing the notes you’ve been taking. They mostly make sense, but your brain must be working on autopilot, because you haven’t processed a single word the professor said.

Rubbing the crease between your brows, you do your best to tune in, chewing on your lower lip and narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do you any good.

The door at the front of the class loudly swings open and Sukuna barges in without a word, trudging straight up to your seat with his hoodie up.

“Class started twenty minutes ago, Ryomen.”

From your angle, you see the snarl on his face, you see the way he practically whips towards her with a world of stress in his eyes and the anger to match. But whether he chooses to take the high road, or simply decides it isn’t worth it, he manages only a measly “yeah. Whatever.”

He should consider himself lucky he isn’t sent away for that, but with only a disappointed grimace, the professor chooses to carry on.

“You’re here,” you whisper, as quietly as you can manage so as not to get him in further trouble.

He sighs. “Finally managed to get them to class today.”

“They haven’t been going to school?”

“Couldn’t get ‘em to,” he mutters, keeping his head low behind his laptop screen as he slumps back in his seat.

You glance at him, a sympathetic frown adorning your lips, but you keep quiet to avoid getting called out by the professor again. Sukuna keeps unusually quiet and withdrawn throughout the entirety of class, packing up as quickly as he came.

He’s on his feet and charging down the stairs before you have so much as a moment to with him.

“Ryomen! A word.”

You watch with dismay as Sukuna whips around angrily to the professor, grumbling out a less-than-thrilled “what?” as he reaches the last step near the door. “Make it quick. I got somewhere to be.”

You grit your teeth, watching with horror as the professor’s brow raises in disbelief at Sukuna’s attitude.

“Mr. Sukuna, if you don’t want to be here, you’re more than welcome to drop my class. You’ve made it very clear that this is not your priority, and-”

Sukuna drops his bag to the ground with a thud, as the students who haven’t already slipped out, including yourself, all watch the interaction in trepidation. “Yeah, you could say it’s not,” he growls. “I got other shit going on.”

“I can sympathize with that,” the professor replies. You have to applaud her patience with the man. “However, I have a class to teach. Whether you choose to show up or not is on you, however I’ll ask that you please don’t distract other students by arriving late.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches, visibly biting his tongue to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. “Yeah. Sure,” he dismisses, turning to grab his bag. He slings it over his shoulder and slams the door ajar with his shoulder, barging out without another word.

You traverse down the stairs and chase after him, jogging to catch up to his long strides.

“Sukuna!” You call just before falling into step with him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he hisses, shooting you a glare. He falters when your expression recoils appropriately to his prickly reply. Sighing, he runs a hand down his face. “I’m fine,” he repeats, less edge to his tone this time.

“Oh. Okay. Um, are you still good to meet with Kento and his friend?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, clipped.

“That’s good,” you agree, nodding as you search for common ground, something Sukuna might be a bit more receptive to. “Did you want company while you pick up Choso and Yuji?”

He casts you a glance, his expression unreadable. “Up to you.”

He’s not making this easy.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing how they’re doing.”

He doesn’t even bother with a reply this time, he simply shrugs.

“Okay, um, I’ll come with you then,” you mumble hesitantly, gauging his reaction, but he remains silent, pulling ahead to walk in front of you as he heads for the doors and turns in the direction of his brothers’ school.

The silence no longer carries a familiar warmth, or even the relative discomfort from earlier in the week. It hangs over you like a fog now, uncertainty tucked within its blanket. Sukuna hardly seems to notice you’re there, never turning to acknowledge you nor straying off his path. Each time you contemplate talking, the words die in your throat at the sight of his tense jaw.

At least it’s warmer today than it was on Monday.

Standing at Sukuna’s side as you arrive at the school, you quietly examine his face. His eyes are sunken and heavy and his shoulders hunched as though the weight of his burdens are hardly being held up anymore. His eyes are glazed in a way that tells you his dismissive attitude towards you is because he isn’t all there, not present even within his own body.

Clearly the talk with his brothers has had adverse effects not only on them, but him as well.

Hesitantly, you reach out in hopes to ground him, setting a hand near his wrist, where the tips of your fingers graze his skin as they breach the edge of his sleeve. His eyes sharpen as he stares down at the contact of your hand.

Sukuna is accustomed to the way that your skin always seems to sear him. He’s chalked it up all this time to lust, but as the contact of your skin, so soft and gentle, just barely brushes his, he second-guesses himself for a split-second. As if on auto-pilot, he can only watch as he pulls his hand from his coat pocket, flipping it to brush the tips of his fingers against yours. Offering a comfort he isn’t familiar with, one that keeps him present, he fiddles with your fingers as you simply observe his face.

“Are you okay, Kuna?” You keep your voice low, your tone gentle as you take a step towards him, letting him run his thumb over your knuckles as he pleases.

It takes a moment, but he meets your gaze, really meets your gaze, for the first time today. His eyes fall again to your hand as he avoids your question. “They didn’t take it well.”

You nod slowly. “I didn’t think they would,” you admit with a tight-lipped smile. “The nightmares…?”

“None of us have slept.”

“I…” You grimace. “Can tell.” You gently squeeze the tips of his fingers that continue to fiddle with yours.

His chest rumbles in something akin to a laugh, though it lacks humor. “I figured goin’ back to school would do ‘em good, maybe help with sleeping. Cho wasn’t thrilled.”

“He’ll be alright,” you assure Sukuna, the school bell sounding from behind you. His fingers pause for a moment, before he drops his hand back to his side.

Yuji is one of the first kids out the door. He seems to be managing, although his usual energy is certainly dulled. He runs at full force straight into Sukuna, who picks him up with ease as the child clings to him.

“Missed you, Kuna.”

Sukuna hums, gently nudging the boy with his shoulder. “Look who’s here.”

Yuji lifts his head, flipping it around until his gaze finds you. He calls your name happily, though it’s still dulled from the usual excitement that surrounds him. His arms reach for you and Sukuna plops him down on the snow to let him run straight for you.

“Hey sweetheart,” you greet, kneeling before him to let him hug you. Reeling back, you gently brush his hair from his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” He pouts, shaking his head. His hair falls back over his forehead again, so you brush the stray pink strands from his eyes once more. “I miss my brother.”

“Hey,” you coo softly. “He’s not letting you go, honey. We’re going to meet one of my friends for some advice, okay?”

Yuji’s head tilts. “Huh? Advice for Cho?”

You mirror him, brow furrowed. “What’s going on with Cho?”

“He doesn’t wanna play anymore,” Yuji pouts, staring down at the snow under his little feet as he rocks side to side. His little cheeks are red, whether from the cold or unshed tears, you aren’t sure.

With a grunt of effort, you pull the little boy into your arms. He clings to you, burying his head into the crook of your neck as you turn to his older brother. “Is Choso okay?” You query, concerned.

“I’ll let you judge for yourself.”

You turn to the door where Choso emerges, his appearance ghostly. His movements are mechanical as he makes his way up to you and Sukuna. He shoots a glance up to you, but doesn’t acknowledge you otherwise, staring blankly off to the side as he waits for Sukuna to lead the way.

“Hey, Choso.”

Silence.

You frown, precariously balancing Yuji in one arm to reach down and gently run a hand over Choso’s hair. He blinks a few times, meeting your gaze. Although the boy traditionally looks tired, his eyes are devoid of warmth. He’s running on empty, completely gassed, and you can understand suddenly why all three of them had no desire to show up to classes.

“You know what I think this day calls for?” You shouldn’t be shocked to find that none of the three brothers reply, but Sukuna at the very least gives you his attention. “How do you three like cinnamon buns?”

“I like them,” Yuji mumbles into your shoulder, gripping your coat.

Well, at least one of them will give you an answer. If that’s the best you can get, you’ll take it.

“Great! You can get whatever treats you’d like, alright?”

Your enthusiasm is met with silence. This is one of those moments where it becomes glaringly obvious who raised the two boys.

Simply to fill the silence, you inquire with Yuji how his day went, plopping him onto the ground when he becomes too heavy to carry. He gingerly reaches for your hand, squeezing it as he talks about his day and a book his class has begun to read.

Yuji begins to drag your hand, falling further and further behind as he grows tired, practically trying to clamber onto your back as you stop to wait for a crosswalk.

Taking notice, Sukuna reaches down to pick up his little brother. “C’mere,” he mumbles as he lifts the child over his head until he’s sitting soundly on the man’s shoulders. You smile softly at the sight. They may not share a mother, but you’d hardly believe it. They’re like twins, only born several years apart.

Yuji idly tugs at Sukuna’s hair as he sits atop the man’s shoulders, a good six feet taller than where he usually stands. His older brother swats at his hands with a grimace, staring ahead as the boy settles and leans his torso on the back of Sukuna’s head.

You keep an eye on Choso, who begins to trail behind the closer you get to the cafe. You’re a good thirty minutes early, but you don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to have the kids listening into the legal discussion either way, so this will give you a chance to grab a table just for them.

Sukuna ducks as he walks into the cafe, ensuring he doesn’t smack his brother’s head on the doorframe, while you trail behind to wait for Choso. When his eyes meet your feet in front of him, they slowly trail up until he finds your gaze. It twists your heart, to see how blankly he stares at you.

“Hey honey. If you don’t want to talk, that’s totally fine, but I just want you to know I’m here.”

His eyes flicker between yours.

Kneeling down to his height, you smile softly. “Do you remember when you found that paperwork and I told you that your brother would talk to me if he needed help?”

Choso blinks a couple of times, and for a moment, you think that’s the most you’ll get from him, but he finds it in himself to nod.

“Well, he did come to me for help. We’re gonna meet my friends at the cafe in a bit and they’re gonna help your brother. He’s fighting for you. We’ll figure things out, okay?”

He nods again, taking a meager step forward before finding his way into your arms. You hug him back tightly and rub his back.

“Thank you.” It’s quiet and hoarse, you can tell he hasn’t spoken in a while. But it’s a step forward, and you’ll take it.

A knock on the glass grabs your attention and you pull back a bit to look up at the cafe window above you. The picture of stoicism, Sukuna stares down at you from within, pointing behind him with his thumb.

‘Got us a table,’ he mouths through the glass, before turning back towards the interior. You don’t catch a word he says, narrowing your eyes as you try to make out what he’s trying to tell you.

“He got a table.” Choso mumbles, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as you turn back to him.

“Is he, like- really bad at that?” You ask, smirking as you point a thumb in the direction where Sukuna was moments ago.

Choso nods, his smile turning up sliiiiightly more.

“And here I thought it was just me,” you grin, standing back up and leading the way to the back of the cafe where Sukuna’s got two tables reserved, one with four seats, and a smaller one with two. He must be on the same wavelength as you, having deliberately chosen a table with enough distance to keep the conversation private, while still having the kids nearby.

He pulls a stack of very ripped and wrinkled papers from his bag, setting them face down on the table as Choso crawls into a tall chair beside his brother. With an arched brow, you set your hand on the paperwork as you take a seat beside him, asking a silent question.

“You can read ‘em if you want.”

Flipping them, your eyes first skim the tape that holds each page together, then the contents themselves.

“What happened to them?”

“I was pissed.”

Clearly. But you keep that thought to yourself. You skim the contents of the legal documents, nails tapping against the faux wood grain table rhythmically.

Case No. 2493

Social File No. 34785-98

Next Court Date: March 23rd.

In The Matter of Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori.

Turns out, it only takes four sentences before you’re frowning at the page, the legal jargon a little bit beyond you. Of course, it’s not entirely illegible and you’re thankful you’re an English literature major, but the jurisdiction codes and notes are a bit beyond any English diploma.

“This is�� a lot.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Sukuna mumbles, glancing at his watch. “We got some time, you want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks Kuna.” Keeping your head buried in the paperwork as you try to dissect an ounce of what the documents say, you chew on your lip as Sukuna drags his brothers to the counter before stepping off to the side to await his order.

With your head down and brow furrowed in documents, you don’t notice Kento standing opposite you with a decently sized box from your parents.

“Good afternoon,” Kento greets you, punctuating the sentence with your name. Your head whips up with a smile as you greet the two men. Standing beside Kento is another tall man with tousled short brown hair, sunken eyes, and a prominent nose. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with a blazer over top, which is about what you would imagine a law student wears. “This is Higuruma,” he introduces the man.

“Hiromi is fine,” he chuckles, surprisingly informal for someone leaning in to extend his hand to you.

Shaking his hand, you flash him a grin. “Nice to meet you,” you greet him, imparting your name. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Hiromi chuckles kindly, taking a seat kitty cornered from you while Kento sits across from you. Hiromi has an air of tiredness about him that’s not entirely dissimilar to that of Sukuna.

Sukuna returns just in time, a tray of cups held high above the ground to prevent a certain young boy from dangling off his arm and spilling them.

That same young boy happens to be dangling off his other arm, though it hardly seems to weigh the man down as he easily holds both the boy and the bag of treats up. He mumbles something to Choso as he sets the tray down, making a motion for the boy to look in his backpack.

Kento and Hiromi watch in barely-masked shock as Sukuna gently directs the kids to a smaller table in the corner, handing them the bag of sweets and a cup of hot chocolate each. Choso tucks a couple of coloring books and markers beneath his elbow as well as they leisurely make their way to the little table in the corner.

With a heavy, tired, sigh, Sukuna takes a seat beside you, pulling the last two cups out and setting one in front of himself and one in front of you.

“Oh, I don’t-”

Ignoring you outright, Sukuna speaks up. “Woulda gotten you both somethin’ but I don’t know your orders,” he gruffs to the two men opposite him, his jaw tightening at the painfully obvious shock and hint of guilt that gleams in Kento’s eyes.

“That’s… Quite alright,” Kento clears his throat, introducing Hiromi and Sukuna to one another before passing you the box of belongings your parents had sent with him. Hiromi extends his hand again, though Sukuna’s not so eager to take it. It’s all a bit formal for him.

“So, I assume this has to do with legal questions,” Hiromi chuckles wryly as you take a sip of your drink.

Your exact order.

Sukuna remembered.

Sukuna hums, sliding the papers across the table without a word. Hiromi coughs once at the sight of the ripped papers, stifling a laugh at the unsightly state of them. It fades almost immediately as his eyes trace the Times New Roman that litters the page.

With a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair, leaning over the table.

“Right. Before we start, I need to make something clear. What I’m doing right now is illegal as a student, so you can’t breathe a word that I was here,” he states firmly, hollowed eyes flickering between the both of you.

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Sukuna mumbles, amusement pricking the edge of his tone.

Hiromi glances back at the kids, catching his meaning. “They’re yours, then? Legally, I mean?”

“Yeah.”

Hiromi sighs again, nodding. “I see. Give me a moment to read these.”

“In the meantime, can I get you both something to drink?” You ask politely.

“Coffee, black, please,” Hiromi replies, leaning over the table on his elbow as he tilts the first page read over a rip, casting the glare on the tape elsewhere.

“That will be fine for myself as well, thank you,” Kento smiles kindly. He waits until you’re out of earshot to speak to Sukuna while Hiromi reads. “She cares about you a great deal, you know.”

A muscle in Sukuna’s jaw ticks. He had a feeling this was coming, though he’d hoped you simply wouldn’t leave his side. He can only avoid his mistakes so long, it seems.

“She’s a good friend.”

Kento’s reaction gives nothing away, his observant expression looking for a break in Sukuna’s aloof features, any sign that he’s the shallow asshole Kento had taken him for. When he doesn’t find it, he nods slowly.

“She is. She deserves that same treatment back.”

Sukuna’s lip twitches, bordering on a snarl that he only holds back out of courtesy of the blonde doing him a favor. “I’m aware.”

Kento sighs, his posture relaxing in his seat as Sukuna bites his tongue, matching Kento’s sigh with a striking glare. “Listen, I believe that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, and given how close she is to both of us, I’d prefer to be on friendly terms.”

“Mm.”

Gathering that Sukuna isn’t one for words, Kento continues. “I see now that there are…” he pauses, his eyes sliding to the right where the two kids are quietly coloring. “Extenuating circumstances behind what happened and I may have misdirected my anger. So, I apologize.”

Sukuna quietly observes Kento’s surprisingly sincere apology, nodding slowly. “I appreciate you lookin’ out for her.”

Sukuna doesn’t exactly verbally accept the apology, but that’s not uncharacteristic of him. Besides, he can’t exactly hold a grudge against the man who’s helping him in a legal battle.

“Of course. Let it be known, however, that if you hurt her again, I will not take it so lightly.” Kento adds grimly.

Sukuna huffs. “‘Course.”

“Great.” Kento extends a hand as an act of good will.

“Can we cut the formalities? They aren’t really my deal.”

Kento cracks a smile, nodding. “Sure, Sukuna.”

The sounds of the cafe make for a relatively comfortable silence in spite of Hiromi’s obvious discomfort of the conversation happening over his head. The sounds of the coffee machines, clinking of glasses, and slamming of fridges help to make the environment a little easier on the three men.

“Alright,” you plop down in your chair once more, “two black coffees.”

Both men thank you as you settle beside Sukuna.

“How are the kids?” You quietly ask, leaning back to glance at them.

Sukuna shrugs. “Coloring Spider-Man probably. They seem fine.”

“Alright,” Hiromi taps the stack of unkempt papers against the table, grabbing a pen from the pocket of his blazer and a stack of sticky notes from his pocket. Somehow that’s just so law student that you find yourself with a lopsided smile as you watch. “I’ll need a bit of extra info, can I ask some questions?”

Sukuna slides back in his chair, grimacing to hide his disdain for needing to share his personal life. “Shoot.”

“Right. So, I’ll need the relationships of everyone involved in their lives. Parents, grandparents, and siblings.” He positions his pen to take notes.

Sukuna, begrudgingly as ever, sighs. “Kaori and Jin Itadori are their parents, Jin passed away three or so years ago,” he begins, his leg tapping beneath the table. You’ve noticed he seems to do that whenever the subject of his father comes up around people he isn’t comfortable with. “I’m their half-brother. Father’s side.”

Hiromi nods, writing away with his pen.

“No family remaining on the father’s side apart from myself. They got an uncle and aunt on the mother’s side, as well as a grandfather, I got no contact or names for any of ‘em.”

Hiromi glances up, his eyes sliding towards you. “And your girlfri-”

“We’re friends. She looks after ‘em sometimes,” Sukuna interrupts, keeping his gaze straight ahead. You’re grateful he does, your cheeks absolutely alight with heat. Pulling your hands politely into your lap, you fiddle with your fingers.

Sensing he may have hit a sore subject, Hiromi scratches the back of his neck. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, returning to his notes. “Right. How’d you end up with custody to begin with?”

“Their mother moved for a job before Yuji turned one. When I reached out when our father passed away, she didn’t respond.” Sukuna keeps his replies short and simple, only divulging what he needs to.

Hiromi pauses for a brief moment to stare at Sukuna, as if in disbelief. Kento’s expression matches, but he quickly clears his throat to keep the conversation going. “And the contact with their uncle and aunt? Grandfather?”

“They ain’t my family. I don’t have contact. Lawyers tried, no answer.” He shrugs.

Hiromi jots down more notes, pointing the back of his pen towards Sukuna. “That’s good for you, by the way.”

Sukuna nods slowly, though he’s unable to let his guard down regardless.

“What methods of contact did you use?”

Hiromi clicks his pen a number of times and Sukuna crosses his arms over his chest. “Email, mail, and phone.”

“Was she in communication before Jin passed?” Hiromi queries, leaning over his notes.

Sukuna pauses, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I think so. I don’t have Jin’s phone anymore.”

Hiromi hums, scratching his jaw as he takes down notes. “I see. Are the kids…” he pauses, swinging the end of his pen in the direction of their table, “aware of this?”

Sukuna visibly tenses. “Yeah.”

Gingerly, you slide your leg closer until it’s sidled next to him. Although he doesn’t react, his bouncing leg slows to a halt, as does the subtle shaking of the table. You smile to yourself that you’re able to bring him the comfort he stubbornly refuses to ask for.

“Did she come to you first before sending these over?” Hiromi asks, making a motion towards the legal documents.

Sukuna shakes his head.

“Right. That should do it for the petitioner’s side,” Hiromi hums, tapping the back of his pen against his notes. “Let’s talk about you and your brothers.”

“My favorite subject,” Sukuna grumbles.

Hiromi offers a sympathetic smile. “I get it, believe me. I’m a pretty private person, too. Now, what’s your major?”

“History.”

Hiromi’s brow raises. He seems somewhat surprised, though he doesn’t voice it. “Got anything lined up for when you graduate?”

“No.”

“I assume you’re working as well.”

Sukuna grits his teeth, fed up with the overly personal questions. “Yeah. I’m a mechanic and I stock shelves.”

Hiromi leans on his arm as he jots that down. “You’re a busy guy,” he mumbles, met with Sukuna’s glare at the unhelpful commentary. Hiromi seems unphased, chuckling. “Sorry, my bad. Do you own or rent?”

“I rent an apartment.”

“Three bedroom?”

“Two.”

“Got it. Alright,” he sighs, running both hands through his hair and leaning back in his chair until it’s precariously balancing on the back two legs. With a thud, the chair slams down onto the floor. “Sounds like a fairly standard case. There’s a number of things here that’ll work in your favor, but-” he pauses, wording his statement carefully. “Trying to win a guardianship case against their biological mother isn’t something I would call easy.”

Sukuna nods.

“Let’s go over the basics. She’s trying to claim them as her right as their mother, but she’s also claiming you’re unfit for guardianship on two counts, lack of funds and irresponsibility. That means you’ll need to prove otherwise on both counts, while also convincing them that the right place for the kids is with you,” Hiromi states, shuffling the opening page aside to briskly scan the second page. “At the end of the day, the judge will choose what’s right for the kids. The mother will have a bit of a leg up on you since she won’t have to fight any claims of ill-doing.”

Sukuna frowns. That doesn’t exactly bode well for him.

“You’ve got some good things going for you, though. You should have a record or be able to pull a record of your contact with her. Having two jobs, although not ideal, has its merits as well. Your brothers are clearly both healthy and I assume you’ve kept them in school as well and you’ve had them for three years now, that’s a strong argument.”

“There’s a ‘but’ somewhere here,” Sukuna frowns.

“There… is,” Hiromi agrees, running another hand through his tousled hair and disheveling it further. He leans forward, picking up the stack of legal papers. “I’m assuming the reason she took a job overseas in the first place is for money. She’s paying for a good lawyer,” he points out, setting the paper back down on the table and sliding towards Sukuna. “They’re expensive for a reason, and they’re not just the best in the city. They have national renown.”

Your heart sinks at the sound of that. “So, pro-bono…?”

“It’s certainly an option,” Hiromi avoids your gaze as he replies, something that doesn’t sit well with you. “Legal clinics and pro-bono are meant more for standard cases-”

“You said this was standard,” Sukuna contains his growl, his voice strained. His leg presses hard against yours, his anger contained with all the strength of a bottle cap.

“It is, on paper. The problem here that I’m concerned about is her choice of lawyers.” He taps his pen on his notes as Sukuna drags his hands over his face in exasperation. “They aren’t… exactly known for losing.”

“Fucking... Just fucking great,” Sukuna gripes, leaning over the table on heavy shoulders. He downs what’s left of his coffee, pressing a thumb into the crease between his brows.

“I would be willing to bet that she purposely chose to spring this on you before the kids are old enough to testify.”

“Choso isn’t old enough…?” You query with a frown.

Hiromi slides the legal papers back towards himself, looking over the listed birth date. “No, he’s one year off, and even if he was, you would still need to convince them he’s mature enough.”

“Fuck,” Sukuna sighs, his chest tight. “So my odds aren’t good then, are they?”

Hiromi watches his words as he scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, they’re not ideal. I’d say two to one, but not impossible. You do have a lot going for you.”

“What do you think he should do?” You ask softly.

Hiromi sighs. “Your best bet will be to really lean in on the fact that you’ve had them for three years because she never replied. Call your cell carrier and get phone logs if they’ve kept them, grab any copies of letters sent, pull up emails, anything you can to prove you reached out.” Hiromi pauses, setting his pen on the table as he takes a sip of coffee. “Pull up every record you have that proves the kids are in good health. Things like vaccination records will go a long way. If you can get your employers to write letters detailing your work ethic, that’s worthwhile too. Anything to prove you’re fit.”

Great. His employers get to know about his brothers. Everyone gets to see into Sukuna’s personal life.

Just fucking great.

Sukuna leans hard against his hand, roughly rubbing his eyes. “Sure,” he huffs, swinging a hand through the air. “Why the fuck would she be doing this in the first place?” He leans back suddenly, whipping his hand through the air in exasperation. “Three years ago it wasn’t her fuckin’ problem, so what changed?”

Hiromi flips to the third page of the documents. “If I were to guess, she wants the government grants for childcare.” His eyes skim the second paragraph on the page, pausing as he thinks over what legal code the paperwork is recalling. “I assume you get that right now with two dependents.”

“Yeah, it pays my fuckin’ rent. She’s got money, though, what the fuck changed?”

Sukuna’s clearly running out of patience, to no fault of Hiromi’s, but he’s completely unphased by him. Whatever type of law he’s going into, he must be accustomed to this kind of behavior.

With a tight-lipped smile, Hiromi shrugs. “All I can do is guess. I don’t know.”

Sukuna rakes a hand through his hair. “So, what the hell do I do about the pro-bono thing?”

“I have some contacts that I can recommend that might give you a break on the cash side, but yeah. I’d recommend against going the free route. I really don’t think you’ll have a foot to stand on if you do that.”

Sukuna stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the tile flooring. It echoes loudly around the little cafe, pulling all attention towards him, but he pays it no mind. His brow twitches, crimson eyes filled with distress. “How expensive are we talkin’?”

Hiromi frowns sympathetically. “Two months’ rent I’d guess, though they may cut you a break but it’ll depend on how long you spend with them.”

Looking between the kids and Sukuna, you can see the questions rising from them as their brother holds the cafe’s attention. In an effort to keep everyone calm, you brush your fingers gently against Sukuna’s wrist, your nails dragging softly over his wrist tattoo. “Take a seat,” you urge him, pointedly tilting your head towards his little brothers, who are both staring at him with wide eyes.

Sukuna inhales sharply, taking his seat again. “Is that the high or low end of your guess?”

“High,” Hiromi tries to assure him.

“Great,” Sukuna growls, his anger directed at no one in particular.

“Is there anything else we should know?” You query quietly in an effort to keep the conversation from Choso and Yuji.

Hiromi taps his fingers on the table in thought. “I get it, Sukuna, I really do, but you need to have the patience of a god in court.” Sukuna’s teeth grit on instinct. “A judge won’t take kindly to a mouthy defense. Only speak when spoken to. Got that?”

Sukuna scoffs with all the dramatism of a man falling apart at the seams. “Yeah. Whatever.”

“Thank you, Hiromi. This is a huge help, really.”

He offers a kind smile. “It’s no problem, really. But remember, you got this info online or something,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ll have Kento send you some of my contacts.”

“Thank you. And no problem, this was nothing more than a helpful websearch,” you giggle, checking on Sukuna in your peripherals. He’s staring at his little brothers, the sound of clinking metal muffled by his pocket as he opens and shuts his lighter.

You give him a nudge, pulling him back to the present, if only for a moment. “Mm. Thanks, Hiromi.”

Hiromi, clearly sympathetic to what Sukuna’s going through, smiles. “Happy to help. Thanks for the coffee.”

You say your goodbyes and gather the kids’ belongings and the box from your parents, offering Sukuna a ride home. It’s chilly and getting dark, and the last thing you need is for a man not in his right mind to try to walk two scared kids home.

Fuck, what a situation he’s in.

He accepts your offer with a nod, letting you lead the way and chat with the kids as he trails behind.

The ride is quiet. Even by Yuji’s standards, it’s painfully quiet. He points out some street art of a monster with a crown that he likes, but it seems to be the most even the five-year-old can manage. Their whole family is emotionally drained.

Even by your standards, you’re running on empty at this point. There’s only so much emotional strain you can handle and between the concern that had distracted you all week and a long day of walking on eggshells around Sukuna, your social battery is running low too. There’s only so much you can handle when the man in your passenger seat has nestled his way into your heart and left an irreparable hole in which only he could fit.

Your heart can only handle so much distant love.

It became increasingly clear over the past week that his absence was making your heart grow fonder. Although you were apart for a while after Christmas, his continual emails sated the part of you that craved him so desperately. Without that, a chasm opened and swallowed you whole, unable to fight it for even a moment.

Still, even in the bone-weary silence of your car, being surrounded by Sukuna and his sweet little family holds a temporary bandage around the pieces of your heart. It’s flimsy at best, fleeting as it begins to unravel with each disheartening snap and gripe that comes from Sukuna, but you can’t blame him when his entire world is caving in around him.

Hell, you can’t even begin to worry about the pain the squeezes your heart when he’s barely holding it together beside you. Usually the face of stoicism, yet his well-put-together seams are cracking, revealing his facade not just to you, but to everyone.

Sukuna’s door swings open the moment you park as he stumbles on his feet as though your vehicle had been claustrophobic. He sets a large palm on the hood of your car to steady himself, dazed.

Pushing down the uneasy feeling building in your chest, you keep calm as you lift Yuji out of the back seat and watch him run over to Choso, getting on the tips of his toes to whisper something into Choso’s ear.

Rounding the car, you try to grab Sukuna’s attention, the look of helplessness on his face catching you off guard as he makes a point of hiding from his brothers. His grip on your car is unyielding, his knuckles white from the effort of holding himself upright.

“Keys?” You whisper quietly. He blinks a couple of times, his chest rising and falling startlingly quickly as he fumbles in his jacket pocket with his spare hand. “I got it.” Gingerly reaching out, you slip your hand into his pocket, careful to pull out only his keys and not his lighter.

Jogging up to Choso, you smile reassuringly. “I just need to talk to your brother. You two go upstairs for me, okay? Lock the door behind you.”

Choso nods, pausing to peek past you at his older brother. There’s a silent question in his eyes that he won’t voice. Whether that’s a trauma response or that he knows you understand, you can’t say for sure.

“He’s okay, don’t worry sweetheart,” you reassure him, ruffling his hair.

He puts his trust in you with a half-hearted attempt at a smile and grabs Yuji’s hand to lead the way into the building.

The sun has mostly set over the horizon at this point, casting dark purple hues over Sukuna’s tattooed cheeks. He hunches over the hood of your car, leaning his body so heavily over the vehicle that it dips under his weight. He exhales shakily, dragging his hands down his face.

In your best effort to comfort him, you gently rub his back. His muscles are taut beneath the down of his winter coat, his back rising and falling just a bit too quickly for your comfort.

“Sukuna?”

He forces himself upright, raking his fingers through his hair.

“Fuck!” He barks, taking a step away from you to pace along the side of your car. His mind is a jumbled mess and he doesn’t know how to make sense of the thoughts that seem to relentlessly batter him, leaving him with a heaving, tight chest, searing anger, and something he can’t put a name to.

Anxiety.

“Sukuna?” You try again as his pacing grows erratic.

“Fuck, I don’t fucking-” he stammers, fists balling at his sides as he struggles not to launch the closest thing to his hand into the wall. Again. He doesn’t need to break his lighter twice in only a couple of months.

You take a step towards him in an attempt to disrupt his pacing course, but he simply turns on his heel in the other direction.

“That fucking-”

“Sukuna!” You jog around to face him, gripping the open front of his black coat and stopping him abruptly.

“What?” He snarls breathlessly, pulling back against your grip.

You don’t relent, keeping him in place although you know he has the strength to tear himself from you if he wanted.

“Can you breathe, Kuna?”

He tugs against you once more, gripping the top of your vehicle. It’s cold on the pads of his fingers, a sharp contrast to the blazing heat his body is overproducing. He doesn’t, can’t, reply to you, but you don’t need him to, the answer is written plain as day for all to see.

He’s panicking.

He’s spiraling downwards harshly and his anxiety is taking along with it the strong front that Sukuna has worked relentlessly to maintain. His own body is forcibly breaking down the walls he built not only to keep himself safe, but also his brothers.

His body is begging you for the help he’d never ask for, lest he suffer alone.

“It’s okay if you can’t,” you soothe, your voice low and gentle as he leans against your car. “Sit down in the back of my car,” you urge sternly, attempting to tug him towards the back door.

He forcefully pulls back out of your grip. “I’m not my fuckin’ kid brothers, don’t fucking treat me like them,” he hisses, fire swirling beneath the surface of his eyes. It’s a meager attempt to mask his distress.

You frown, unmoving as you contemplate how to help someone who doesn’t want your help. Someone who doesn’t want pity or sympathy, who wants only respect and nothing less.

It doesn’t matter how much respect for him you have when looking back at him he sees only sympathy in your eyes.

“Please, can we talk? It’s cold out here, just sit in the back of my-”

“For fuck’s sake, what the fuck is there to talk about?” He yells, whipping his hand through the air. He reels back, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I can fucking handle things, stop sticking your nose in my damn business,” he hisses in a strained tone, rubbing at his chest in discomfort.

Your eyes trail down to watch the way he clutches at his shirt and pulls the collar from his neck as though it’s choking him, his lips slightly parted as he struggles to breathe. “Sukuna, I know you can handle things. Just listen to me, okay?” His eyes snap to you. “Have you had a panic attack before?”

“I’m not havin’ a fucking panic attack, christ, just- gimme some fuckin’ space,” he backs away from you, walking over to his apartment building’s exterior and rummaging through his jacket pockets in search of cigarettes. He pulls out a small cardboard box, flipping it open with shaky hands and muttering a curse under his breath as he comes up empty. He tosses it at full force into the building, leaning his head against the wall a moment later as his vision grows white at the edges.

“Sukuna,” your tone is firm as you come up behind him. “Please sit.”

By some miracle, he flips until his back can slide down the wall and he’s finally sitting, his gaze fixed nowhere in particular behind you.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you lower yourself down to your knees to sit in front of him. Thank god. Even as the cold snow melts beneath you and seeps into the warmth of your pants, chilling the skin of your knees, you push through. Setting your hands on his forearms, you rub soothing circles into them.

“Here, are your hands cold?” Sliding the tips of your fingers along his arm and raising goosebumps with your touch even through the barrier of his jacket, you gauge the temperature of his hands, nodding to yourself. “They are cold… here-” you lift his hand up to cool the back of his neck, which is overheating even in the below freezing weather. “I think that should feel good.”

It shouldn’t piss him off as much as it does that you’re right. It does help, leaving him completely at your mercy, as Sukuna himself doesn’t understand how to quell this feeling.

“Breathe with me, okay?”

He doesn’t react, but his crimson gaze falls to your chest, studying the rise and fall. You direct him by repeating a gentle “in… and out,” moving your thumb along his arm in time with your own breaths and instructions. He closes his eyes as the pain in his chest eases and he’s able to catch his breath.

Continuing to soothingly run your thumb along his arm, you carefully reach up to brush his sweat-slicked hair from his forehead. He stiffens briefly, but quickly relaxes without bothering to open his eyes.

Your heart twists at the intimacy of the situation, but it’s neither the time nor place to concern yourself with your own emotions.

You can handle the way your own chest tightens as Sukuna’s finger twitches and brushes your wrist, settling against the warmth of your skin.

You don’t dare interrupt the peace, giving him the time he needs to find his grounding. It takes him a few moments, but he moves his hand from the back of his neck, settling it on his knee. His gaze fixes on something in the distance as he takes a long, exhausted breath.

To your surprise, his arm that you’re still rubbing circles into flips and his thumb and fingers wrap around the circumference of your forearm. With a lopsided smile, you squeeze his arm back.

“Talk to me.”

With the sun completely set over the horizon, the only light that illuminates Sukuna’s face is that of the light over his apartment building. It glows faintly, flickering every so often with a golden hue that paints the broken expression on his face in such a way that even in this dire situation, he looks ethereal.

His gaze travels upwards as the light flickers again, the golden hue glimmering against the packed snow beneath your (very cold) knees. “I can’t afford a lawyer,” he mutters shamefully, his brow furrowed.

You contemplate your next words very carefully given Sukuna’s nature. “What can I do?” To help?

“Nothing,” he scoffs, his eyes not leaving the point where his hand connects with your arm. Even with a jacket between you, your presence brings him comfort. “I’ll figure shit out like I always do.”

“You don’t need to do this alone, Kuna.”

The glare he shoots you is sharp. “I can manage.”

“Manage until- until what? You have another panic attack?” Although your tone is still gentle, there’s a prickle to your words.

“I didn’t have a fuckin’-”

“Bullshit!”

Sukuna blinks. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard a curse leave your lips. There’s a fiery determination lit beneath you that he won’t quench with his distilled anger.

“You’re allowed to need help, Sukuna. It doesn’t make you weak.”

His grip on your arm tightens, almost uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how to take your words and his vexation is only growing. “I’ll need to take more shifts,” he mumbles.

“I’m here. If you need someone to watch the kids,” you offer.

His chest rises and falls heavily as he exhales slowly. As if coming to some sort of conclusion, he frowns. “You’re too kind, princess.” His tone is uncharacteristically weak and painfully distant. He squeezes your arm once, before dropping it to pull himself up off the ground. He brushes snow from his pants and coat and picks up the empty cigarette box crumpled on the ground. “I’m gonna head inside.” His gaze turns down to your knees as you follow suit and stand before him. “Go warm up and dry off.”

“Are you sure you don’t need-”

“I’m fine.” He assures you, turning towards the door without so much as a goodbye, but he thinks twice on this and pauses before he can enter his building. He examines your frown as he fights an internal debate. His sharp gaze traces your movements as you swipe your tongue over your lower lip and bite down on it.

He’s caught up on a strange inkling in his mind that doesn’t really make sense to him, but he gives pause to it.

Your lips look like a goddamn invitation. He’s not thinking about your body, or the way your skin sears him when you brush his hand. It’s something entirely else that he wants to act on, and all you’re doing is standing there, the picture of uncertainty as you fiddle with your fingers and chew on your lips.

Your god forsaken lips.

“Sukuna?” You meekly question, tilting your head.

He swears you could have the world if you truly wanted with just a tilt of your head.

It’s a shame Sukuna knows he doesn’t belong in your world. You’re too kind, you always have been. You’re like the syrup they drizzle over cheesecake, or the decorative sprinkles that top that shitty whipped cream that bakeries love to use. The sugar-free kind that doesn’t quite taste right and you’re not sure why they even bother with it, so they add the sweetest sprinkles to compensate.

Once again, Sukuna thinks about how you’re the sun, and he’s nothing more than a distant star sputtering out on the horizon. He doesn’t consider that every star is a sun to someone else.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Was just thinkin’. Thanks for organizing today, gave me a lot to work with.”

And with that, he’s pushing through the door before you can even tell him that he’s welcome.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; OOPS ALMOST 18K CHAPTER. honestly it just didn't feel right to end it before the discussion with higuruma and sukuna's reaction to it, so here we are. forgive me for the angst :((( i love these babies sm and it physically hurt to put them through this 😭 the support for this series has been so overwhelmingly lovely and heartwarming, i really can't thank you all enough. seriously, y'all are the sweetest and the comments and asks i've received about this series brighten my day every single time 🫶 anyway, ily all and i'm sorry 😭

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @rinachains @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @kasukuna @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

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henry7931 · 3 days ago

Text

Adventures In Babysitting Spinoff: Billy’s College Adventures Part 1

It’s been 10 years since Billy’s adventures with Leo.

Billy:

Hi, I’m Billy. I think most of you are familiar with me although it’s been a hot minute. But let me catch you up. I’m now in college and doing pretty well on the most part. I guess you can say I live a somewhat ordinary life (outside of my powers of course). I live 10 hours away from my hometown now and it’s been a little bit of a challenge for me. I have little to no friends here which is my fault. I don’t really go out to parties. I’m a good student which I great and all… I’m just bored! Mainly because I promised both of my dads that I wouldn’t use my powers here. Bleh!

I realize that my abilities can seem a bit… I don’t know odd. But they feel like such a big part of me. Not only that but I also figured out how to expand them! I recently discovered before college that not only can I swap bodies with someone but I can also swap two individuals without swapping myself. Pretty cool right?

Sigh… I just can’t use them.

I don’t think anyone else has my ability. I’ve been trying for years, doing countless research on my computer to see if I’m the only person on earth who can swap with someone. And it might just be me.

Well… that statement was true until something crazy happened.

The other day I’m sitting in my Chemistry class trying my hardest to not fall asleep during our lecture. After about 30 minutes in, I got up to use the restroom hoping I’d wake up a bit.

As I’m heading down the hallway, I hear two voices panicking.

They come around the corner and it’s a guy around my age along with someone I’d assume to be a professor. I quickly hid behind a door leaving it open just enough so I can see what’s going on.

“Professor William! What did you do to us?,” says the older guy.

“Jeremy! You think I did this? You think i want to he you??!? I’m trying not to have a panic attack. This is unheard of… two people somehow becoming eachother. This has to be a dream! I have to be sleeping right now! Wake up! Wake up!,” says the young college student who starts slapping himself in the face over and over again.

“Stop slapping my face!,” says the professor grabbing the students hand.

“Oh god! This isn’t a dream!”

“Yeah No shit! Now can you pull yourself together, people are going to think Im crazy!!”

This has to be a joke… there is no way someone else has the same powers as me. Especially someone who goes to school with me.

I look around trying to see if anyone else was around them.

No one is in the hallway…

I look back at the college student and the professor. The professor inside of the college student is hyperventilating while the other is pacing back and forth.

I thought to myself, I know I’m not supposed to use my powers here… but this maybe the one exception.

I switch them back.

“Holy shit! Professor Williams! I’m me!!”

Professor Williams looks down at his body with disbelief.

“This… how did we… oh god, let’s just get out of here. I have a lesson here shortly. Make sure you bring your report back to me Monday, okay?”

“Sure thing!”

As both of them leave, I see a tall figure with a hoodie on dart for the door.

“Hey! Come back!,” I say running after them.

They keep running and I chase after them. They head outside and by the time I get to the door, a giant shuffle of people were all outside. I looked around for the hoodie but whoever that was— wasn’t anywhere to be found.

After class, I head back to my place. I laid back in bed thinking about the possibility that someone else near me had my powers.

I feel excited from the thought that I’m not the only one. But then another thought hit me— why would they swap that guy and his professor?

Was it just to be devious? Or did they have a good reason?

Listen, I’ve been guilty of swapping my family, Leo, his friends around… hell I one time swapped bodies with a teacher just to get out of a final.

But swapping those two people felt like they did it with intent. Wait… did they know that I swapped them back? Did I just accidentally outed myself?

Fuckkkk…

I grab my phone and start texting Leo. Yes, I still talk to Leo. He said we can keep friends as long as I don’t steal his body again.

I try calling him but it just goes to voicemail.

“Hey I think I messed up. Call me when you get a second.”

Ugh… I’m sure Leo is doing something too cool with his fiancé. He met some guy and he’s head over heels for him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for Leo. Just a little bitter is all.

A few minutes pass and I close my eyes for a second.

When I open my eyes back up, I feel almost disoriented. It’s dark outside which means I must have fell asleep for hours…

It takes me a second but I suddenly realize that I’m no longer in my room… actually I don’t know where the hell I am.

I stumble around the darkness until I find a phone. The unlocks from face recognition and I immediately open up the camera.

“What the fuck?”

Who am I???

Meanwhile…

Samuel:

*Billy’s phone rings in the distance, it’s a call from Leo*

“Hello?…Oh hey… yeah. Nothing much, just chilling here— What? My text? That’s right! No I’m all good, sorry about that… didn’t mean to panic you. I know! But can I like call you back? Okay, great. Thanks!”

Geez! One second in this guy’s body and I’m already having to pretend to him!

Billy… huh… you’re a pretty good looking guy Billy. My names Samuel and we’re about to get closer than ever lol.

I tug off Billy’s socks and prop up his feet. Damn, he has some sexy ass toes.

I’m sure he’ll be here soon in my body. It’s funny, I knew of the existence of other swappers. But I never thought in a million years one would be so dumb to make it so obvious. I mean it was one thing when he swapped those guys back but then follow me? What an idiot!

I unbutton Billy’s pants and reach into his pants.

“Mhmmm…”

Man! Touching another guys junk never gets old! And he’s cute?!? This is about to be fun!

#body swap #male tf #male body swap #adventures #body theft

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foreingersgod · 2 days ago

Note

Pls do Caroline Harvey HCs

with just an eeny weeny teensy tiny bit of smut plss 🙏🏾

Headcannons . CH

pairing: caroline harvey (kk harvey) x reader

warnings: a mix of fluffy content and smut, so read at your own discretion and minors and men please do NOT interact!

this is my peace offering for being so busy and slacking on writing, full length fic coming soon!!

also not spell checked, sorry!!

SFW (barely but no smut)

i feel like she’s a pretty domestic person, i think she’d prefer quiet nights at home with you as opposed to going out and partying. i imagine her being the one to beg you to stay and do date night at home anytime you suggested getting dinner or seeing a movie.

“but babe why can’t we just stay home?! we have food and plenty of movies here!” she’d whine when you asked “i’ll even make you dinner myself! come on, i jus’ want you all to myself”

on a similar note, i also think she’s not huge on PDA and that’s why she loves staying in with you so much. it’s not that she doesn’t feel comfortable being seen with you, it’s just that she’s kind of reserved and prefers to keep her personal life as private as she can. for her sake and for yours.

which has its perks, don’t get me wrong. you almost prefer it that way, subtle little touches when you’re out with friends or something like that, her hand gently resting on your lower back or her head resting on your shoulder when she gets tired. and then you’d get home, and she wouldn’t be able to help herself anymore. she’d be all over you in an instant.

“fuck,” she pants when you finally walk into your shared apartment for the night. you had been out for your mutual friends birthday, and you unintentionally intentionally decided to wear something fairly revealing “y’know what you do to me? wearing something like that?”

and believe me…she’d make up for the lack of public affection in other ways.

i’d like to think that her love language is acts of service. like she still loves to touch you and validate you and all that lovely girlfriend stuff, but she shows her love in more ways than just words.

she’d often leave you sticky notes on the fridge when you got home later than she did, maybe leave some on your nightstand when she had to leave early in the mornings when you’re still asleep. always leaving an “xoxo C” at the bottom to tell you she’s thinking of you.

not only that, but she’d do a lot of household chores for you when you were busy with school and work, run you relaxing baths when you were sick, or even something so little as running to the supermarket to grab your favorite ice cream when you started your period.

she’d be one of those stereotypical lesbians that just absolutely worships the ground their girlfriend walks on. she never fails to bring you up in conversations and is quite willing to do anything you ask.

one night you’re winding down after a long day, watching tv and painting your nails whilst caroline sits beside you to keep you company. she’s quite honestly not paying attention to what’s playing on the screen at least, rather her eyes are glued to you. she watches the way the lavender lacquer glides across your nail, how your tongue sticks out in conversation and she’s in complete awe of how beautiful you look doing the most mundane things.

“hey caroline?” you asked with a pout.

“yeah baby?” she hums in response, pretending like she wasn’t just watching you like a hawke.

“d’you think you could help me with this hand? i keep messing up”

and she’s already perching herself on the floor in front of you, pulling you into her lap as she grabs the bottle of nail polish to finish painting them.

she’s a snorer. i’m so sure of it. although i don’t think she snores like in a heavy type of way, but instead she lets out light little grumbles here and there.

i can just picture her, face pressed into the pillow, her cheek smushed against the fabric as she sleeps peacefully. her hair is all over the place and her lips are slightly parted. and then to top it all off, as if she couldn’t be any cuter, she lets out the softest snuffs.

definitely has a scrapbook, shoved somewhere deep into her closet, that her mother gifted her. it’d be filled with several baby pictures and photos/drawings from when she was in grade school, hiding it away because she was unbelievably embarrassed for you to see them.

you remembered when her family visited you both when you had finally settled into your place together, her mom bringing the scrapbook as a housing warming gift of some sorts. caroline immediately tried to tuck it away, but you were more than stubborn and demanded that you sit down and look through it.

it’s still one of your favorite memories. laughing with her parents at all the goofy pictures from when she lost her first teeth, when she won her first hockey trophy, and when she graduated high school. you even loved reading all the poems she wrote in middle school english, loved seeing all the ‘1st place” ribbons that her mom neatly taped to the card-stock pages.

you only got to look at it twice since then, kk utterly miserable whenever it was pulled out, but you cherished those pictures more than anything.

she’s probably such a dad in the sense that she pretends to not care about the cheesy reality tv shows you’re into, but then secretly starts getting hooked on it and makes you record each episode so you can watch it together.

“what do you mean lisa called meredith a ‘garbage whore’?” she gasped, running into the living room with a bowl of popcorn in her hands “wait, wait i told you to pause it! i don’t want to miss it!!”

her favorite place to kiss you is definitely your forehead. sure, she loves kissing you everywhere, but there’s something so intimate to her about small forehead kisses.

she never fails to give you one before you both fall asleep, before you leave for work, when you’re sad and need comforting or when you’re so excited and it’s her way of expressing her support. you’d probably get her kiss mark tattooed there if you could.

she often gets overwhelmed with sports and school and family and all sorts of things. she tends to be reserved with her feelings, but you’re the only person she can genuinely open up to. sometimes she comes home from practice with this look on her face, and you can immediately tell that she’s struggling.

most times she doesn’t even want to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her, run your fingers through her hair and tell her it’s all going to be okay.

and she loves to teach you new things. wether that’s teaching you how to skate, how to cook a family dish she always ate as a kid, or how play the games she learned in elementary school, she just wants you to be involved in everything she loves.

you think you love it more than she does. you’d never get over how excited she gets when you ask if you can help her make that ‘dinner she made one time’ or if she’d tell you a funny story from when she was a rebellious teen.

like that one time you were having lunch in the park one summer, sprawled out on a handmade quit atop the freshly cut grass as you laid side by side. you picked mindlessly at the dandelions beside you as you both chatted about each others day.

“you know i used to make those when i was younger?” she spoke, motioning to the flowering weeds “flower crowns, i mean”

“really?” you smiled “no one ever taught me how, i always wished i could though”

i didn’t take long before she was picking some herself and instructing you on how to tangle them together so easily. she took it as serious as she took hockey, determined to make sure you knew how to make a perfect flower crown. it wasn’t really a big deal to you in the long run, but something so important to her was just as important to you.

NSFW (for realsies this time)

getting straight to the point, i don’t think she’s huge on the strap. don’t get me wrong, you both still use it often, but i think she much prefers eating you out or scissoring.

there’s something about the appeal of physically feeling you on her that makes her crazy, a sensation that beats using the strap any day.

she loves it when you bite her or scratch her. it’s a pleasant mix between pleasure and pain and it’s probably her favorite part of intimacy.

she likes to look in the mirror the next day, just before she gets in the shower, to admire the long red marks that stretch along her back. she often teases you about too, but if you ever stop, she’s guiding your hands to her back again.

she’s not as drawn to the marks that your bites leave as much, instead she loves the feelings. when she’s making you feel so so good, so much that you can barely hold it in anymore, that you have to bite down on her shoulder or her bicep to keep yourself grounded. it’s like an ego boost to her, a sign that she fucks you so good that you can’t even function properly.

she’s cocky in bed, i feel like she’s the type to say:

“yeah baby? feels good huh?”

“come on, speak up, i can’t hear you”

or if you’re on top…

“fuck yeah, just like that, making me feel so good baby. keep going…gonna make me come”

a sucker for praise

she loves when you tell her that she’s going a good job, that’s she’s exceeding your expectations each time. she’s a bit of a perfectionist and an over achiever that way, but hey, you’re not one to complain.

whilst she loves fancy lingerie and nice dresses, she folds for you even when you’re in sweats and one of her t shirts.

“really? right now?” you huff as her hands dance up your shirt, massaging your tits roughly. she’s kissing up your neck painfully slow and you can’t help but wonder what’s gotten her so worked up “i look like shit”

“are you kidding?” she scoffs “i’d fuck the shit out of you no matter what you’re wearing, you look so sexy even in this”

i’m a firm believer (maybe this is a self insert but idc!!) that she appreciates all body types, especially a chubbier figure. like she’s absolutely obsessed with your pudgy tummy and your thick thighs, a sucker for how plush and soft your body is. don’t even get her started on those stretch marks of yours…

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t struggle with your body image often, but you never had to be insecure for long when caroline walked into your life. she seized every opportunity to make you see what she saw in you, willing to do whatever it took to prove to you that she loved your body.

“shit, look at you” she moaned, smirking as she watched you on top of her, grinding your wet pussies together. her hands gripped feverishly at your hips, often wandering down to squeeze your thighs. her hands were all over you the entire time, letting you know that she loves every inch of you “so pretty on top of me, i’ll never get sick of lookin’ at you, got it?”

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ellecdc · 1 day ago

Text

always there

prompt from @unstablereader: What about alpha!Barty and omega!Treasure where he's been helping her with heats as friends do, but then another alpha actually takes interest in her and they both kind of flip out. Reader has a bit of a meltdown because "that's not HER alpha" and Barty gets pissed because "that's MY omega"

alpha!Barty Crouch Jr x omega!reader who already has an alpha [1.9k words]

CW: fem!reader, omegaverse, marking/claiming, speaking of heat cycles, scenting, brief angst, all fluff

Anyone from the outside looking in probably would have thought Barty was looking at you rather predatorily. And to some extent he might have been, but it was only because he was worried about you.

Dorcas’ birthday had fallen on a Friday and she was very much looking forward to throwing a party the day-of instead of “the day after when the novelty of growing older and wiser has worn off.”

The beginning of your heat cycle started on Saturday.

Barty had been keeping religious track of your cycle for years; he had been ever since you first presented back at school. Too young to be marked or claimed by an alpha of your own, Barty has been able to help you through your heats; whatever you needed. Whether it was scenting, feeling secure in the presence of an alpha who promised to shield you from any unwanted attention, or a knot, Barty was there.

He’d always be there.

Which is why he had shown up to your flat the morning of the party and asked if you didn’t think you ought to stay home tonight.

“She’s really looking forward to it, though.” You’d said of Dorcas who, was indeed looking forward to celebrating her birthday day-of with all of her friends, and would have been more than understanding of your absence.

The day before your heat wasn't always too bad. Sometimes you experienced a fever, but not always. Sometimes you were anxious or fidgety, but not always. But your scent was certainly stronger (especially to alphas with a certain proclivity to it), and Barty worried about you.

Generally, you could manage to keep your normal routine the day before your heat.

Normal routine being school, work, and the ability to bathe, feed and clean up after yourself.

Barty did not think that extended to entertaining a large group of people - many of which would likely be Gryffindors seeing as Dorcas had gone and shacked up with one - for an entire evening.

He told you as much.

You pulled your lips between your teeth as you considered Barty’s words, fiddling with the hem of the jumper of his you were currently wearing; yet another sign of your incoming heat.

Suddenly, you looked up at him. “You’ll be there, though. Right?”

Barty smiled immediately. “I’ll be there, treasure. By your side, of course.”

Something about the way he spoke to you had you folding yourself into his chest, a very welcome change indeed, and inhaling deeply. He held you tighter in response.

”And can I borrow your Guns ‘n Rose’s t-shirt?”

You barely had the question out before Barty was agreeing. “Yes, you can borrow my Guns ‘n Rose’s t-shirt. That’s what this was really about, hm? I’m just an extra closet for you.” He teased.

You giggled into his chest before pulling back to look up at him. You weren’t flushed yet, your eyes were bright and alert, and he would be there.

He would always be there.

”Okay fine you can go to the party.” He ‘relented’ theatrically, earning him a cackling laugh in response.

”How very magnanimous of you.”

He flashed you a boastful smirk. “That’s me; Barty the Great.”

“Wear the shirt today please?” You called after him as he turned to leave instead of gracing him with a response. That was fine, he already knew you thought he was great.

So, yeah. He wore his beloved Guns ‘n Roses t-shirt all day, making sure to even work up a light sweat so that his scent blanketed you tighter, and he met you before the party so that the two of you could go together.

“So, you’re telling me there’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay in tonight?” He asked as he lounged lazily on your bed whilst you got ready for the party.

“Why do you keep trying to squirrel me away?” You laughed as you hiked up a pair of trousers over your hips.

Barty scoffed and held out a Rubik’s cube that he’d solved, scrambled, solved, and scrambled again whilst you changed as if you’d said something barmy. “‘Cause I want you all to myself, obviously?”

”Obviously.” You drawled back at him, pulling his your shirt over your head.

“You know, Tres, I think the question should be less why I keep trying to squirrel you away and why you’re so hellbent on going.” He retorted, moving to sit up properly and toss the Rubik’s cube over his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Because if I stay home, you’ll stay with me. Yeah?” You asked plainly, moving to stand in front of Barty with your hands on your hips and a displeased pout on your lips that Barty itched to boop with his finger but refrained.

“‘Course.”

Your lips pursed. “‘Course. And then two of us will be missing from Dorcas’ party.”

“Oh my gods this keeps coming back to Dorcas’ party.” He let out with a groan before falling back spread eagle on your bed.

“Get up. We’re leaving.” You called over your shoulder as you strutted out of your room.

So you left.

And you went to Dorcas’ party.

So, yeah. Barty was leaning against the wall of (Marlene &) Dorcas’ flat pretending to listen to whatever Regulus’ dumb boyfriend was so excited about as he watched you rather predatorily.

“Barty, you’re being terribly rude.” Regulus hissed, finally managing to encourage Barty’s eyes from you.

”Yeah? You’ll have to bring it up with management.” He drawled in a bored manner, smirking at the flash of indignance in Regulus’ eyes.

And then he heard the pitch of your voice raise higher and his sights were back on you.

Back on you, and Caradoc Dearborn (if Barty wasn’t mistaken - he never did bother learning all of the Gryffindor’s names) as you shifted your weight between your feet.

“You must be close though, yeah? You smell amazing.” He could hear the bloke say as he flashed you a charming smile.

Barty wanted to punch the teeth right out of his mouth.

“Oh, look at that.” James commented casually. “Think this might be the year Y/N finds an alpha of her own?”

She has an alpha of her own, Barty nearly growled before the blood drained from his face.

Except you didn’t have an alpha of your own - not in any way that would matter to Caradoc or any other alpha who might recognise the slightly sweeter smell coming from you tonight.

Maybe not even in any way that would matter to you.

But shit, Barty was yours.

He was your friend, your Barty, your alpha; whatever you needed him to be he’d be it.

And then your eyes met his.

And your lips parted.

And Barty would always be there.

So he quirked his eyebrow at you - do you need me?

Your lips closed and pressed into a straight line - help.

He’s pretty sure he stepped on James’ shoe and spilled some of Regulus’ drink on him as he brushed past the pair, but Barty’s mind was singular and zeroed in.

“Need a refill, Tres?” He asked lowly, keeping his gaze on Caradoc as he sidled up behind you.

“I was just about to offer her one myself.” Caradoc offered with another toothy grin, though the smile didn’t seem to meet his eyes as he met Barty’s gaze.

“She’s fine.”

“Do you speak for her, mate?” Caradoc asked as he leaned against the door frame with an ease he clearly didn’t feel if the tendons in his arms told Barty anything.

“What exactly is it you came to ask her, mate?” Barty asked then, watching Caradoc’s eyes shift between his and yours before he straightened.

“I figured a pretty little omega like herself might need an alpha.” He responded simply.

“I already have one…” You mumbled, and whilst Caradoc spoke over you, causing him to miss this key detail, Barty sure didn’t.

“I was simply here to offer my services.” He carried on chippily.

“She isn’t a commodity.” Barty spat before looking down as you instinctively leaned into him. “Do you want his help, treasure?”

You quickly shook your head and one of your hands wound itself into the fabric of his shirt. He covered your hand with his.

“No.” You managed to squeak.

Caradoc tilted his head curiously at you. “No? Not even this close to a heat?”

“I’m surprised you even managed to pick that up with how much she smells like me, Dearborn.” Barty spat then.

“I don’t see a mark on her, Junior, so I sort of figured it was fair play.”

“I have an Alpha…” You tried again, squaring your shoulders. “I’ve always had an alpha.”

Caradoc all but sneered at you. “No mark means no bond.”

A sardonic smile took over Barty’s face as he pushed the hair away from your shoulder, slowly bending at the waist to bring his mouth to your neck all whilst maintaining eye contact with Caradoc.

His lips ghosted the expanse of skin where your scent was the strongest, and Barty found himself nearly drunk off it. Heart a riot within his chest; Barty wondered if the fluttering of your pulse beneath his lips would match the cadence of his own.

“What do you say, Tres?” He murmured, breath fanning across your skin as he watched Caradoc’s eyes narrow and jaw twitch. He could believe he was really doing this.

“Please.” Was your immediate response.

His serious facade almost fell completely when you surprised a breathy chuckle out of him.

“A simple yes or no would have sufficed, sweetheart.” He said before he pressed a delicate kiss to the space, causing you to nod your head in an undeniable yes. “But… since you asked so nicely.”

And he latched onto your scent point and bit down; hard.

Caradoc - apparently no longer interested in getting you that drink - was long gone by the time Barty opened his eyes again and pulled off of you, licking the wound once before leaning back to admire his work; memorialized in your skin, two crescent moons. Him.

You turned to look at him with tears in your eyes.

His stomach fell out of his arse.

“Treasure? Hey, Y/N. What- are you okay?” He rapid fired, and then you were in his arms, kissing him everywhere you could reach.

“Thank you. Oh my god. Thank you.” You cried, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling him in for a deep, lingering kiss.

Barty mumbled a question into your mouth until you finally relented your (much appreciated) assault on his lips. “What are you thanking me for?”

You turned bashful. Barty loved it.

Barty loved you.

“Claiming me.” You admitted shyly. “I-... I realised I…I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want any alpha.”

You looked at him as though you’d just been given the gift of sight; finally seeing him clearly for the very first time.

“I just want you.”

“I’m yours, treasure.” Barty vowed, lowering his forehead to yours. “I’m all yours.”

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rafesweetie · 3 days ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ the way 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ — jj maybank and pogue!princess!reader

“ you a princess to the public, but a freak when it’s time, “

cw ; making out, reader tries to go further, ‘mama’ and ‘princess’ nickname, drunk!reader.

jj had bought the hot tub a year ago, during a moment of rage and upset, and he thought the pogues would instantly return his reckless decision and get the restitution money back — news flash, he was wrong.

there have been many parties in the fun hot tub, getting drunk and splashing around with the pogues, tonight was no different. it started out normal and fun, sipping drinks and giggling and talking about stuff that would make no sense to a sober person. then kie and pope left to have some ‘alone time.’

“oh my god, jj, you know what that means right?” you giggling, sipping your vodka pink lemonade.

“what, mama?” he knows what, he’s just entertaining you because you’re cute when you’re drunk — not like he’d ever admit to thinking that.

“means theyre gonna go do it,” john b even laughs at that, which makes you laugh more. “thought you liked her, jayj,” you say after the giggles stop.

“who? kie?” he asks, faking obliviosness.

“mhm,”

he shakes his head. “nah. no, she’s all pope’s. plus, shes like, a bop, always going after another guy,”

“ew, jj, don’t say bop,” john b cringes.

“then who do you like?” you ask, too drunk to care that you’re prying.

“can’t tell you that, ‘s a secret,”

“jayj, thats no fun!” you pout, gently pushing his bicep which makes him laugh. “just tell me, probably won’t even remember tomorrow,”

“yeah yeah. maybe later,”

sarah whispers something to john b and he makes up some shitty excuse and leaves.

“dunno why everyone is hooking up,” you say. “‘s dumb, don’t like being the only single one,”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m single too, mama, y’not the only one, i feel you,”

“yeah, but you like someone. you always get who you like, it’s how you work,”

“what, and you don’t? huh? remember in sophomore year when you kissed topper thornton because you had that kook phase?”

“it was a peck, we didn’t even make out,” you argue. “never made out with anyone before,” you murmur under your breath.

his eyebrows furrow. sorry, did he hear you right? “what?” he asks, implying that you repeat yourself louder.

“i’ve never made out with anyone before.” you admit a bit louder.

“c’mooon,” he takes a sip of his beer. “that’s not true. you’re drunk, stop lying,”

“m’not lying!”

the water moves as he gets a bit closer to you. “y/n, im 100% sure you’re lying. i mean come on, you’re the prettiest girl on the island, you’ve even got kooks, like — rafe cameron type shit — going after you. and you’ve never made out with someone?”

you splash him with the hot water. “stop rubbing it in,”

“hey hey, not trying to be mean, mama,”

“just because you’re always making out with girls doesnt mean that everyone does. you’re a player,” the insult is obviously not said seriously.

“hey, i ain’t a player, i just..” you roll your eyes. “you’re gross,” you say, but you’re back to smiling.

“i could always help you out. i mean cmon, it would be fun, having someone you’re close to being your first. not some random kook,”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m just saying that if you need it, i got it. i got it everyday.”

so you’re not exactly sure when you ended up on your best friend’s lap, but you really like it. being on top of jj maybank, the cutest surfer and pogue in town, a literal light in the OBX. you’re having fun, giggling between kisses when he says something silly or gets dramatic when you nip his lower lip. it’s like he’s putting on a show to make you more comfortable. your hand is tracing his abs underneath the water, feeling him up, your other hand on his shoulder. his hands are everywhere — like, literally everywhere your pink bikini doesn’t cover. it’s clear he’s been wanting to do this for a while.

you two take breaks to have a sip of your drinks and get more drunk and have more fun. he tries a sip of your vodka lemonade and cringes at the sweetness, and you giggling and kiss him again. your lipgloss is making his lips and neck and jaw all sticky. he wonders where you got so good at this.

you go to feel him through his swim trunks, and he stops you, grabbing your poorly polished hand. “what?” you ask, smiling dropping.

“hey, c’mon, don’t wanna steal all your firsts in one night,” he squeezes your waist.

“when did you become responsible?”

“since now.”

you groan. “but i love the way you make me feel. do you not like me like that?”

“hey, princess, i got some feelings for you i’m not gonna get bored of. but let’s take it slow for me too, mkay mama? so it’ll be a first for me too.”

with that, you nod and go back to kiss him.

#౨ৎ isa writes #౨ৎ pogue!princess!reader #ughhh im so sorry this is so lame #wayyyyayayayyy too much dialogue #making me cringe reading it but i need smth out #on the bright side first post w my bby pogue princess!!!!#hope u like her #pogue princess x jj #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank obx #jj mayback imagine #jj obx #jj maybank #jj outer banks #rudy pankow

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urmum-lovesme · 15 hours ago

Text

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P10

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: I know the last chapter was pretty bad, but um, it gets worse. I'm sorry but it can only get worse before it gets better and I needed a way to give our man his redemption (it's not like a real redemption though). This is a pretty intense chpt and I won't lie but it took me a while because I didn't really know how to lay it out... but it's here noowwww. It's Halloween and Y/n my baby you look so cute in your outfit but I'm sorry I had to do it for the plot of the series :(

!!! TW THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SA AND NON-CON !!!

please don't read it if that triggers you.

warnings: ANGST dark content, alcohol, smoking, partying, extreme violence, non-con, sa, injury.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Princess : I don’t know, Top.

T-man : C’monnnnn you haven’t been to a party in forever.

T-man : People are talking that the kook princess is losing her game.

Princess : Fuck people.

T-man : Alright, alright, but you could still get dressed up in that cute outfit what was it again

Princess : A dog?

Princess : A deer you asshole.

T-man : Right

T-man : So you coming or not

Princess : Who else is going

T-man : Me

Princess : …

Princess : Obviously

T-man : Okay diva

Princess : Stop that’s my thing :(

T-man : Okay me kelce cooper maybe sarah and her pogues amelie you like her don't you

Princess : Yh she's sweet

T-man : Some more of your gfs or whatever

T-man : Some of the guys from the country club

Princess : Maybe i’ll come

T-man : Rafe’s coming

Princess : I in fact will not be coming

T-man : Y/n

T-man : Can you please talk it out

Princess : What is there to talk about topper?

T-man : He's been so miserable

T-man : Like a kicked puppy

Princess : I don't care topper

Princess : I really don't

T-man : You and I both know you can’t just walk away from him like that

Princess : Well you clearly don't know me then?

T-man : I’m just asking you to come

T-man : For me.

Princess : For you?

T-man : Yes???

T-man : Let’s just have a normal night you don’t even have to talk to him if you don’t want to.

T-man : Just come and enjoy yourself.

Princess : Fine I'll think about it

T-man : Great

T-man : Can't wait to see your dog costume

Princess : *deer

T-man : Yes ma’am

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two months had passed since their argument and Y/n hadn't talked to Rafe ever since the night at the party. She refused to, she didn’t even know what to say to him.

She had no words left for him.

No apologies, no explanations.

Nothing.

After all, how do you even begin to talk to someone who can so easily say what he did? It had been easier, she’d realized, to just avoid him entirely. Leave his messages delivered, let his calls go to voicemail. She put up walls and pretended like it didn’t hurt.

But it did.

Every day.

And no amount of pretending could stop that gnawing feeling in her chest. Still, she stayed away because there was no way she could face him and pick up the pieces, not yet.

It was Halloween night, and the girl stood in front of her mirror, finishing the last details of her costume. Her lacy white tights were pulled up neatly, hugging her legs, and she adjusted the tiny bow sitting just above her ear, a delicate touch that completed the look. She had carefully painted a little deer nose on her face, a soft line of black across the tip of her nose. Her eyes were doe-like, accentuated with white on her waterline and a hint of soft brown eyeshadow, shimmering when it caught the light. Her lashes fluttered as she applied the blush against her cheeks. A pair of fluffy brown deer ears and antlers were perched atop her head.

Her white and brown lacy dress clung to her, its fabric light and airy that gave it a playful, yet delicate charm. The skirt flared out slightly, ending just above her upper thigh, giving her an ethereal, almost fairy-like quality. Fuzzy, cream coloured leg warmers wrapped snugly around her calves, adding a cozy yet whimsical touch, while her chunky Mary Jane heels, a shade of soft brown, clicked as she shifted her weight, completing the ensemble.

She stepped back from the mirror, as she admired her reflection.

Recently, Y/n had found herself spending more and more time with Cooper. Ever since her… fallout with Rafe, Cooper had been a consistent presence, and the two had grown closer in a way she hadn’t expected. Tonight, they were going to the Halloween party together, and they had decided to match outfits, it was the boys suggestion.

A Hunter and a Deer.

The girl had been skeptical at first, she thought it was a little odd but at the same time she did really want to be a deer so she couldn't argue. When she climbed into his car, the interior of his vehicle was filled with the soft hum of music and the faint scent of cologne.

Cooper was wearing his outfit, a rugged, green jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, a fur collar suggestive of his hobby, his dark camo cargos were accompanied by sturdy brown boots. To top it off, he wore a black cap with the words, ‘I like big racks’ and deer antlers embroidered underneath. She giggled as she saw the hat shaking her head.

Classic

Cooper caught her gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“I like your cap,” she said, teasing but fond, her eyes flickering to the playful embroidery before meeting his eyes. “It’s... very you.”

He tilted his head back and smiled wide, his laughter filling the car. “Thanks,” he replied with a shrug, his voice playful yet sincere.

“I wore it for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, fighting off a grin. “Of course you did.” Her voice clearly captured a hint of amusement in her words. His gaze softened as he reached over, giving her hand a soft kiss. His lips brushed lightly against her skin, and he murmured under his breath,

“You look amazing tonight... couldn’t ask for a better costume partner.”

The simple gesture sent a warmth through her chest, the closeness they shared these past few weeks making it all feel more genuine. She smiled genuinely,

“Thanks Coop, I think we’re gonna make the best team tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooper and Y/n arrived at the party, the bass thumping through the walls, echoing the excitement of the people inside. They stepped through the door, and as they made their way through the sea of costumes, Cooper’s hand slid naturally to the small of her back. He let it rest there, his touch gentle but firm, as they walked toward the kitchen, he couldn’t help but glance down at her, his lips curling into a smile. She looked cute as a doe—her soft lace clothes, the little deer ears perched atop her head, and the delicate painted nose on her face. It suited her in a way that surprised him. His hand trailed down her back, skimming over the soft lace of her outfit, feeling the delicate fabric under his fingers. It was a touch that was possessive yet tender, an acknowledgment of how good it felt to have her close. Just as they turned a corner to the kitchen, they bumped into Kelce and Topper, both of them dressed in their Halloween costumes. Topper's eyes lit up when he saw her, and before she could even say a word, he was pulling her into a big, bear hug.

"Looky, looky who it is!"

Topper grinned, his voice warm as he squeezed her tightly. "It’s good to see you Princess," he said, his voice genuinely happy to see her. The girl chuckled as she pulled away, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"You too, Top."

She replied, smiling up at him, trying to ignore the familiar warmth in her chest. She turned to Kelce next, her eyes scanning his costume with a smirk.

"And what are you wearing, Kels?"

She asked, amusement lacing her voice. Kelce stood there for a moment, looking a little sheepish. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual, but there was a clear hesitation.

"Sto—"

He started, but she cut him off, already laughing, he rolled his eyes, holding up his hands in mock surrender the blue scrubs moving with his bicep,

"I’m a dentist," he said, grinning. "Don't make fun of me."

Y/n burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up from her chest. "What?" she gasped between giggles. "A dentist?" She was shaking her head, her hands clutching her sides as she tried to stop laughing. Kelce seemed to take it all in stride though, his grin never faltering,

"C'mon, cut it out," Kelce said, feigning annoyance. "My girl's the tooth fairy."

Y/n’s eyes widened, her attention suddenly caught by a girl in the background, prancing around in a cute, sparkly fairy costume, clearly already tipsy she had little chocolate coins, offering them to people with a wide smile.

"Aww, you know what? That’s cute," she said, shaking her head but smiling. "I take it back, Kels you’re off the hook."

Kelce shot her a mock glare, though his smile never left. "Yeah, yeah. Just wait until I start handing out lollipops and toothbrushes," he teased, but the lightheartedness in his voice was clear. The girl shook her head humoured by his words and her eyes landed on Topper, who was standing off to the side in an extremely minimalistic devil costume, his red horns poking out from under his tousled hair. He looked up at her, noticing her gaze, and she couldn’t help but smirk.

“Sexy. I like it” she teased, her tone playful.

Topper grinned at her response, clearly enjoying the attention. “Thanks,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

Cooper, standing just behind her, handed her a drink. She took it from him, her fingers brushing against his as she sipped gratefully, savoring the burn of the alcohol.

“Good choice”

She muttered, turning to Topper again, a teasing glint in her eyes. Topper raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I like your costume, by the way,” he joked, his eyes flicking over to her deer outfit. “Looks like you're part of the canine family.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips. “It’s a deer, asshole,” she corrected him, shaking her head. Topper chuckled, his gaze flicking between her and Cooper. He asked, the tone of his voice teasing, as if trying to get a rise out of her.

“Couples costume, huh?”

“-not a couple.”

She blurted out a little too quickly and froze, her hand tightening around her drink as her mind raced. The words came out harsher than she intended, and she immediately regretted them.

Well shit

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked over at Cooper, praying he didn’t pick up on the sudden awkwardness that had settled between them. He simply glanced over at her for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, before turning his attention back to the conversation, not letting on that he’d noticed anything off. She let out a nervous laugh, her fingers tapping lightly on the rim of her cup,

“Just a duo, you know?” she added, trying to downplay her words.

Topper raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the tension but not quite knowing what to make of it. He nodded slowly, his expression shifting to something more casual as he tried to smooth over the moment.

“Yeah, yeah. Me and Rafe are a duo too, had to bribe him though...”

He said, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The mention of Rafe’s name was like a cold bucket of water being poured over her. Her throat tightened, and she could feel the sudden chill in the air, the weight of his name hanging between them. Her pulse quickened as the awkwardness seemed to settle even deeper. Cooper noticed the change in her posture immediately. He looked over at her, but his face remained neutral, giving nothing away. She cleared her throat, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that had crept over her.

“Right. Uh, what's he wearing?” she asked, her voice slightly strained as she forced the question out. Topper didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.

“He’s an angel.”

He said, casually shrugging his shoulders. Y/n nodded, forcing a smile as the conversation shifted away from her. Y/N heard laughter and a playful 'Catch you later' the sound of footsteps mixed with the music heavily thumping and before she could turn to look, she felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. A hand clapped onto Toppers back, the sound sent a jolt through her, she looked up, and her breath caught.

Rafe

He stood by the boy with small horns on his head. He was dressed in a white wife-beater that clung to his toned body, his muscular arms exposed out to the warm air in the kitchen. His dark jeans hung low on his hips with a belt that had a cross-shaped buckle rested around his waist, adding to his costume. But it was the white, feathery fake angel wings strapped to his back that really caught her eye. The wings fluttered slightly as he moved, adding an almost ethereal quality to his presence.

My Angel Baby

Y/N froze, the last time she had seen him was... well, it didn’t matter. Rafe turned around as he made his way into the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room and landing on her almost instantly and for a moment, it felt as though time stopped.

Y/n

It was as if the world had shrunk down to just the two of them, with that heavy, suffocating silence closing in between them. Her heart did something strange in her chest as she tried to steady herself, trying to make sense of the feeling that suddenly rose within her. Rafe’s lips curled into a slow small, hesitant smile.

"Princess"

His words hung heavy, like a weight he’d thrown at her and now expected her to catch. Her throat tightened.

Princess? Is he for real right now…

The nickname left his mouth quietly, like he was testing it, unsure if it still belonged to her. It didn’t land the way it used to—it wasn’t warm, it wasn't teasing. It felt foreign, strange, like it didn’t fit anymore. She forced herself to meet his gaze,

"Rafe," she replied with a hint of frost in her voice.

Rafe shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his posture awkward, his usual confidence visibly faltering. His eyes swept over her, lingering briefly on her doe costume before flicking back up to her face. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped, his jaw tightening.

Cooper and Topper, who had been standing beside her, seemed to sense the change in the air immediately. Cooper’s body subtly shifted closer to hers, a protective gesture, but she didn’t know if it was for her sake or his own. “Rafe,” he greeted him coolly, trying to steer the conversation. Topper cleared his throat;

“Looking angelic, man.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked over to Cooper, but he didn’t let his attention stray for long. He nodded at him briefly, the charm still evident in his tone. “Thanks.” The boy's hesitated before delving into their own conversation in attempt to fill the awkward silence. Rafe's gaze returned to Y/N, his eyes softening just a fraction, but that only made things worse. It made Y/N ache, wanting so badly to ignore the pull he still had on her, the familiarity she didn’t want to feel.

"It’s uh- been a while… how’s everything been?"

Rafe asked, his voice almost too casual, like they weren’t standing in the middle of a room full of people, pretending they didn’t both wish the ground would swallow them up.

A while? Are you serious right now? Oh I don't know I’ve been pretty fucking good ever since you shamed me in front of almost the whole islan-

“Been great.”

She replied, her voice cool, detached. It was the best she could muster, though it sounded more brittle than she intended. He spoke out to her again,

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,”

Seriously? That's the best you've got

Y/N glanced at him, her fingers tightening around her drink. She could feel the heat of his gaze, steady and unrelenting, and it only made her grip harder.

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” she replied, the words slipping out sharper than she intended.

Her tone cut through the air, but Rafe didn’t flinch. He stood there, unmovable, though the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed him. She took a slow sip of her drink, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the bitterness that curled in her chest. She lowered the cup and glanced at him again, her expression carefully guarded. “But here we are,” she added, her voice tinged with something she couldn’t quite name- resignation, maybe. She cleared her throat, breaking eye contact as she took another sip, but it didn’t help. The tension coiled tight in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Enjoying the party?” she asked, her tone light, almost dismissive.

He hesitated, his gaze still fixed on her, and for a moment, she thought he might let the question slide. But then he nodded.

“It’s fine,” he said simply.

Fine?

The word hung there, bland and empty. She hated how it felt, how the silence after it stretched and frayed at her nerves.

“You?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Are you… enjoying yourself?”

She huffed out a short laugh, bitter and sharp. “Sure,” she said, the word biting, cutting.

“What’s not to enjoy?”

Rafe shifted, his hands sliding into his pockets as he looked down briefly, breaking the tension of his stare. His jaw tightened, and she could see him debating something, though he didn’t speak right away. When he finally looked up, his expression was unreadable, his voice steady but quieter than before.

“I didn’t mean to…” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose as if searching for the right words. “I just—”

“You just what?” she interrupted, her tone flat.

Rafe’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his composure slipping for just a moment. His shoulders stiffened, and when he spoke again, his voice was tighter. “I didn’t mean for things to… happen the way they did.”

The words hit her like a punch, stealing the breath from her lungs. She stared at him, her heart pounding, but her face remained carefully blank. “Didn’t mean to?” she echoed, her voice low and incredulous.

Rafe stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, but she stood her ground, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “Y/N—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, cutting him off. She straightened her spine, the cup in her hand trembling slightly despite her best efforts.

“I don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now.”

Her words seemed to hit him harder than she expected. He stopped in his tracks, his expression faltering. “Okay,” he said softly, shoving his hand's deeper into his pockets, but she could see the tremble in them. “Okay.... yeah.”

Fuck what do I say

Say something

Shit

“You look…” he started, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He exhaled sharply through his nose, glancing away for a second before continuing,

“You look nice.”

Nice?

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, short and cutting, the sound making his shoulders stiffen. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Rafe’s eyes darted to hers, and for a moment, he looked as though he wanted to take the words back, to swallow them whole. But he didn’t get the chance.

“Funny,” she continued, her voice low as she looked down at the cup in her hand, trembling slightly, though she tried to mask it.

“You sure I don’t look like a slut?”

…

Her words hit like a bullet, and she watched as Rafe’s face fell, the tension in his jaw softening into something that almost resembled regret. His eyes flickered, searching hers, but she didn’t give him the chance to answer.

“Y/N—” he started, his voice quiet, almost pleading but she wasn’t about to let him finish.

“Excuse me,” she said sharply, brushing past him before he could say another word.

Her heart was pounding as she walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last. The kitchen felt stifling, the air too thick, too suffocating. She needed to get away—to breathe.

She didn’t dare look back, but she could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting, as though he was willing her to stop, to turn around. But she wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world felt like it had slipped loose from its hinges, the room around her swayed in slow, nauseating waves, the walls bending and tilting as if they were trying to close in on her. Lights blurred into streaks of color, their sharp edges softened by the haze clouding her vision. Every sound- the music, the chatter, the occasional burst of laughter- felt distant and muffled, as though she were underwater. Her body felt heavy and weightless all at once, her limbs sluggish, uncooperative. She stumbled slightly, catching herself on the edge of the table in the living room, the cold surface grounding her for a brief moment before the spinning started again. Her thoughts were jumbled, fragmented. Every time she tried to focus on one, it slipped away, dissolving into a mess of fleeting emotions.

Forget. Just forget.

The alcohol coursing through her veins was doing its job, dulling the sharp ache in her chest, blurring the edges of her pain. But it wasn’t enough. Rafe’s face still flickered in her mind like a cruel, persistent ghost, and no matter how much she drank, she couldn’t drown it out completely. She tilted her head back and took another sip, no it was more like a gulp, of whatever was in her cup. She didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t care. It burned on the way down, but the warmth spread through her like a blanket, smothering her thoughts for a moment, but the spinning wouldn’t stop. It grew worse when she closed her eyes, the sensation of falling endless and disorienting. She blinked them open again, gripping the counter harder as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

“Y/N?”

Someone said, their voice distant, almost unintelligible. She turned her head too quickly, the movement making her stomach lurch. He stepped closer, his brows knit with concern as he took in her state.

“You okay? I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night.”

“Mmhmm”

She mumbled, nodding sluggishly, though her grip on the counter said otherwise. She tried to steady herself, but the ground beneath her felt like it was tilting, swaying, threatening to pull her under.

“I just…” She trailed off, her words slurring slightly. “-need the bathroom.”

Cooper hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line as he glanced around the room. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.”

He reached for her arm, his hand warm and steady as it wrapped around her elbow, but it felt unknown, not like the one she was used to, the one which would always lead her home at the end of the night.

Stop thinking about him

She stumbled slightly as she tried to move, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her. Cooper tightened his grip, his other hand moving to her lower back to steady her.

“Easy,” he murmured, guiding her through the crowded room. They reached the stairs, and Cooper paused, glancing down at her.

“Can you make it up, or…?”

She nodded, though the action made her head swim. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good,” she muttered, though her wobbling steps told a different story.

“Alright, I’ve got you,” Cooper said, as he kept a firm hold on her as they climbed the stairs, her hand gripping the banister tightly while his arm stayed steady around her. She hummed out as she walked through the door the boy had opened for her, her feet wobbly as she looked around. In front of her laid a bed, a bedside table, doors leading into an en suite and doors to a balcony.

Bedroom?

“This is a bedroom.”

She slurred, her words tumbling out as she glanced back at Cooper, who had just shut the door behind them. Her glassy eyes darted around the room, struggling to focus on its elegant decor. Cooper smiled, his expression amused but tinged with something else as he took her in. The top of her dress had slipped slightly, the loose ties revealing more than she probably realized in her current state. He stepped closer, steadying her as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. His hand found hers, firm yet careful.

“Yeah, it’s a bedroom,” he replied smoothly, his voice low. “One of the guest rooms, I think.” His chest brushed lightly against hers as he shifted closer, his grip tightening ever so slightly to keep her upright.

“Need to pee…” she mumbled, attempting to turn toward the en-suite bathroom but stumbling into him instead. Cooper chuckled softly, the sound warm.

“Careful princess,” he murmured, his arms circling her waist to steady her as her body pressed against his. He could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, the faint scent of her perfume clinging to the air between them.

“Let me help you,” he added, guiding her gently toward the bathroom. His touch was steady, a contrast to her wavering steps, as he led her to the en-suite. Reaching the doorway, she leaned heavily against the frame, her head still spinning from the alcohol. “Give me a minute,” she slurred, trying to wave him off as she stumbled inside.

Cooper didn’t move far. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a faint smirk. “You sure you’re gonna be okay in there?” he teased, his voice carrying an edge of amusement.

“You seem a little… unsteady.”

“I’m fine,” she muttered, though her voice was far from convincing. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned her forehead against the cool wood, letting out a deep breath as she tried to ground herself. She gripped the counter, her reflection in the mirror blurry and unfamiliar. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she shut her eyes, trying to steady herself.

This is weird.

She’d never felt like this after drinking.

With a shaky hand, she turned the faucet on, splashing cold water onto her neck in an attempt to sober up. It didn’t help much. Her head was still swimming, her body heavy and uncooperative. Outside, Cooper waited, his eyes fixed on the door. He could hear the faint sounds of her fumbling around, the occasional clink of glass or the creak of the counter as she leaned on it. A small smile tugged at his lips as he listened. Her shaky breaths filtered through the door, and something about the sound made his expression shift, his gaze darkening. He leaned his head back against the frame, his thoughts clouded, though his posture remained calm and composed.

Y/N pressed her hands flat against the counter, willing the spinning to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The back patio was quieter than the rest of the house, the thrum of bass from inside muffled by the sliding glass door. Rafe sat slouched in one of the chairs, a half-empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers. Kelce leaned against the railing, a joint pinched between his fingers, exhaling smoke lazily into the crisp night air. Topper stood nearby, sipping from a red Solo cup, his gaze flicking between the two of them. Rafe’s eyes were distant, scanning the groups of people inside as if he were looking for something- or someone. Topper sighed, breaking the silence.

“You tried, man.”

“I don’t know what to do”

Rafe’s gaze didn’t shift. He barely even blinked. Kelce snorted, the sound almost derisive.

“You fucked up so bad you’re gonna need… you’re gonna need a miracle—ha!”

He gestured lazily at Rafe with his joint, smirking at his own joke, clearly amused by the irony of the boy’s costume. Rafe shot him a look, his jaw tightening, Topper rolled his eyes at Kelce, clearly unimpressed. “Real helpful bro.” Kelce shrugged, taking another drag,

“I’m just saying. You can’t just say sorry for what you said and expect her to forgive you. That’s not how it works. You said some pretty fucked up shit”

I know

Rafe rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. The weight of the past two months pressed down on him like a physical thing. Every day without her felt wrong, like a part of him was missing. He’d thought the fight would blow over, that she’d come around eventually- but she hadn’t.

I miss her so much

“I just…” Rafe trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t keep doing this.” He pushed himself up, setting his beer down on the table. “I’m going to find her.”

Kelce raised an eyebrow, flicking ash from his joint. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, man.”

Topper glanced at Rafe, hesitating. “She’s had a lot to drink. Like, a lot,” he said, emphasizing the last word with a pointed look. Rafe’s brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing,

“What do you mean? How much is a lot?”

Topper scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Like, I had to make sure Matty banned her from the kitchen because she kept going back for more. She’s seriously drunk, Rafe.” Rafe’s expression changed, a flicker of worry crossing his features, heartbeat quickening slightly.

“Where is she? Who’s she with?”

Topper hesitated for a beat too long, glancing at Kelce. “She’s with Cooper,” Kelce finally said, his tone nonchalant. “Relax, dude. He’s keeping an eye on her. She’s fine.”

Are you fucking seriou-

Rafe’s jaw clenched, his unease growing. “And you’re okay with that?” he asked, his voice low, an edge creeping into it.

Kelce raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay with what?”

“You’re okay with her being alone with some guy we don’t even know?” Rafe snapped, his frustration boiling over.

Topper exchanged a glance with Kelce, his brow furrowing. “We know him pretty well, don’t we?”

Kelce let out a dry laugh. “Seems like she’s gotten to know him pretty well, if you ask me.”

Rafe stiffened, his hand tightening on the armrest of his seat. He didn’t say anything, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. Kelce smirked, leaning in slightly.

“Who do you think she’s been with while you’ve been gone, Rafe?”

The words hit like a slap, and Rafe’s jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together. He didn’t respond, but his knuckles whitened where they gripped the table. Before he could do anything, someone appeared at the edge of the patio holding a tray of shots. “Hey, boys! Shots on me!” the newcomer announced, grinning wide. Kelce perked up immediately, stepping forward to claim one. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Topper clapped Rafe on the shoulder, pulling him back toward the group.

“Come on, man. One shot won’t kill you. You need to loosen up.”

Rafe hesitated, glancing toward the house one last time and reluctantly, he let Topper guide him back to the table, though his mind was still somewhere else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door creaked as Y/N pulled it open, her hazy vision landing on Cooper seated on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his thighs, his gaze lifting to meet hers. The soft glow filtering in from the balcony doors illuminated his figure, casting dark shadows across his face.

Y/N let out a soft hum, almost to herself, as she stepped out of the ensuite, her movements unsteady and slow. She switched off the light behind her, plunging the room further into the warm, muted darkness. The gentle glow from outside danced across the room, Cooper’s eyes didn’t leave her, watching as she stumbled slightly, the alcohol clearly taking its toll. He straightened as she approached, his expression unreadable but his gaze heavy, lingering. His hands fidgeted in his lap for a moment before he stood, his tall frame now looming over hers as she swayed slightly.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Before she could respond, his hand found its way to her waist, the touch firm and steadying. Her breath hitched at the contact, and she instinctively placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“You okay?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as he looked at her.

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, her sound slow and barely coherent.

His other hand came up, brushing against her arm as if to guide her closer. The proximity made her heart race- or was that the alcohol? She wasn’t sure anymore. Cooper’s touch was steady, grounding in contrast to the room spinning around her.

“You sure?” he asked again, his voice a little firmer this time, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied her face.

“Yeah,” she whispered, but even to her own ears, the word sounded weak.

She tried to focus on his face, the way the soft light carved out the sharp line of his jaw and highlighted the intensity in his eyes. Her head was still spinning, her body feeling both weightless and heavy at the same time. She shifted her weight slightly, leaning into him without realising it. Cooper’s grip on her waist tightened as he steadied her.

“You’re really drunk, Y/N.”

He said, his tone laced with something between concern and… desire?

Her lips parted as if to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she blinked at him, her expression dazed, caught between wanting to push him away and being too exhausted to do anything but let him hold her up.

“I don’t know what’s wro-”

She was cut off as the boy pressed his lips against hers. She wasn’t expecting it but her hands now went to his chest trying to stabilise herself as she wobbled. Cooper deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting and exploring, his hands moved from her waist to her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh. She could feel his need for her, the desperation in his touch as he pressed her closer against him.

“Taste so good princess” he mumbled against her lips, his voice hoarse with desire.

“Cooper-”

She breathed out barely audible as he pressed his lips against hers once more. His hands slid down her body grabbing at her ass harshly as he manoeuvred her around, pushing her down onto the bed, his body hovering over her as he looked down at her through hooded eyes. His hands moved to the tops of her legs, his fingers trailing up and down the soft lace material of her costume, his lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, his kisses hot and possessive as he moved down her body.

What is he doing

“Cooper-”

She tried to push against his chest but he continued working his lips against her neck. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in. Her limbs felt so heavy, she felt life she was being weighed down, as though everything was moving in slow motion. The boy ignored her weak attempts to push him away, his lips continuing to trail down her neck and across her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin, hands moving across her body.

“Just let me take care of you” he mumbled against her skin, his voice heavy with need.

“-wait…”

Stop

She tried to slur out but the boy's lips were back on hers, his hands working on the ribbons of her dress, his hands moving down the material, easily undoing it, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shot glass hit the table with a clink, but Rafe barely noticed. His leg was bouncing under the table, a nervous rhythm that matched the tapping of his fingers against the wood. The others were laughing, chatting, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him. Each second felt heavier than the last, his unease growing into something tangible, pressing against his chest.

“Dude, you good?” Topper asked, raising a brow as he noticed Rafe’s agitation.

Rafe ignored him, his jaw tightening. The urge to find Y/N was gnawing at him, sharper now than it had been minutes ago. He could feel it in his bones.

I always take her home at the end of the night, I'm always with her when she's drunk this is wron-

He couldn’t take it anymore. The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shoved it back and stood abruptly.

“I’m going to find Y/N,” he said, his tone clipped and leaving no room for argument.

“Rafe, come on, man,” Kelce called after him, his voice carrying an edge of protest. “She’s fine!”

“Rafe!” Topper added, but he didn’t stop.

The party felt like a maze, the dim lighting and loud music making it harder to focus. He weaved through the crowd, his eyes scanning every face he passed. Most were unfamiliar, laughing and shouting over the music. His irritation mounted as he asked a couple of people, letting out a groan at every dead end,

“Have you seen Y/N?”

“Nah man my bad.”

“She was dressed as a deer right-?”

“Uhhhh no?”

“Oh she was so cute!”

"Sorry, I haven’t”

Fucking useless

“She’s with Cooper, I think,”

A girl answered, her tone casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. Rafe’s jaw clenched as he muttered a tense “Thanks” and moved on. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Each answer only added to the tight coil of worry in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Then he spotted Sarah, standing near the stairs, chatting with a group of girls. Relief surged through him as he strode over.

“Sarah-” he called, his voice cutting through the noise.

She turned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at his tone. “Rafe?”

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked. Her brows furrowed, a mixture of curiosity and skepticism crossing her face.

“Why? I thought you guys weren’t talking. Besides I don’t think that she’s going to want to talk to you-”

“Sarah!”

Please just tell me

“Listen I’m just saying, as her friend, that you really pissed her-"

“Sarah, don’t play with me right now. Where is she?” His voice dropped, laced with urgency.

“This is serious. She’s drunk, Sarah. She could get hurt.”

The shift in his tone made Sarah pause, her expression softening as realization dawned. “She went upstairs- to the bathroom or something.”

Rafe’s shoulders sagged slightly in relief before tensing again at her next words.

“I think she’s with Cooper,” she added, watching her brother’s face. He let out a flat, acknowledging hum, his lips pressing into a thin line as he turned toward the stairs. As he reached the top landing eyes looking over the busy hallway, he pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling her number. The ringing in his ear was deafening against the muffled thump of the music below, he was gripping the phone tightly as it rang.

Come on…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The faint hum of Y/N’s phone vibrated against the hardwood floor, the screen lighting up briefly before dimming again. It buzzed insistently, the sound barely audible over the girl's heavy breaths as she turned her head away from the boy above her. She weakly pressed against his shoulders, but he nudged her arms aside, capturing her wrists and pinning them to the bed once more. He groaned, flipping her onto her stomach, her cheek now pressed into the soft sheets beneath her which were anything but welcoming.

“C’mon Y/n, I’ve been so nice to you in the past two months. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

He said again, his voice softer yet his actions rough as his hands trailed down her sides, his touch both careful and controlled as he adjusted her beneath him. Her mind raced, the sharp sound of fabric being ripped snapping her out of the haze- her heart jumped in her chest.

Fuck

“No-”

She spoke louder now, the situation sobering her up, hands shakily pushing herself up only to be forced back down again by the boy, his hand clamping down over her mouth causing her eyes to widen.

“Shut up”

He grumbled out annoyed, the sound of his belt unbuckling causing her eyes to widen, her instincts screaming at her, making her lash out, arm coming back to elbow him in the stomach the boy letting out a groan, his hands releasing her wrists as he clutched at the spot where she had hit him. She shoved herself back, stumbling to the floor, her head hitting against the side of the bedside table causing her to let out a whimper.

Her vision was fuzzy as she tried to crawl over to the door, the light from underneath spilling out only for a hand on her ankle to stop her. The boy caught her, his grip strong and firm, preventing her from moving any further, his forehead wrinkled with irritation,

"Where do you think you're going, princess?"

“Get off of me-”

She croaked out, her hand coming up to her head as she touched it feeling a wet liquid where she’d touched it, her vision was hazy but she could make out the red on her fingertips. She kicked her foot out trying to get his grip off her as her hands reached out for the door.

“You want to do it on the floor like a dirty bitch? That’s fine-”

Please don't do this-

She was yanked back sharply by his grip, her breath hitching as panic clawed its way up her throat. The weight of his body pressed down on hers, suffocating and relentless. Her chest heaved with shallow, desperate gasps, the edges of her vision blurring with tears.

Her eyes darted to the soft glow of light spilling from beneath the door, shadows shifting behind it—a fleeting, fragile hope. Her body trembled violently as a choked cry escaped her lips, raw and broken. She managed to sob out a scream, her voice cracking with terror, but it was cut short as his hand clamped firmly over her mouth. Her muffled wails echoed in her ears, her struggles growing frantic as Cooper aggressively lifted her hips up to meet his.

Fabric ripping once more.

She shuddered as she felt his hands moving roughly along her inner thighs.

Quiet sobs racked her body as he moved, whimpers slipping past her lips as his hand pushed her hair away from her shoulder, his lips moving against her skin once more, the sounds she made only served to anger him further. He leaned down, pressing his body harder against hers,

“Please-”

Her eyes noticed the shadows under the door.

“HE-”

His hand lifted wrapping around her neck tightly causing her to gasp out her hand coming up to grip at his wrist, words caught in her throat as Cooper growled in irritation. He hissed into her ear,

"Just stop- …this will be a lot easier for both of us if you just be quiet."

Her eyes closed momentarily in acceptance.

Maybe if she didn’t fight it, the suffocating weight of it all would fade, the throbbing in her head, the pain between her thighs, and she could slip away into the numbness she craved. She tried to still her racing heartbeat, forcing herself to steady her breath as the reality of her helplessness settled over her like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

Maybe if I play along it will be over faster-

The sound of the door handle rattling caused her eyes to open immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe’s patience was wearing thin, his fist collided with the bathroom door, a rapid, irritated pounding that echoed through the hall, causing people to turn their heads. He rattled the doorknob, a voice came from behind the door, deep and slurred, as a guy stumbled out, nearly knocking Rafe over.

“Yo, what the hell, man?”

Rafe clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool. “Sorry, thought you were someone else,” he muttered before brushing past him, irritation flooding his veins. The hallway ahead was full of noise, bodies stumbling past him, the house buzzing with laughter and chaos. He moved past one door, trying the handle.

Locked

“Occupied!” came a giggling voice from within. Rafe groaned, frustration building, but he didn’t let it stop him. His fingers tapped the phone in his hand, waiting for the girl to pick up as he moved further down the hallway. His heart was hammering in his chest as the seconds ticked by. At the end of the hallway, the noise died down. It was quieter here, the last stretch of the floor empty. He approached the two doors at the end of the hall, both wide open, he stepped into one room, his eyes scanning it quickly.

Where is she

His hands gripped the edge of the desk near him, frustration bubbling up again. His breath was coming fast, chest tight as he stepped further into the room. And then, in a fit of rage, he grabbed the nearest vase, smashing it to the ground with a force that made the room reverberate.

“FUCK!”

He yelled, his voice raw with anger. He ran his hand over his face, gripping the bridge of his nose to steady himself, trying to regain control. The heavy breathing echoed in his ears as his mind raced, and that’s when he heard it. A faint sound in the distance, too soft to place at first.

The sound of crying.

His head snapped up, eyes darting around the room. Panic surged through him as his body moved before he could think. He stormed toward the ensuite, slamming the door open with a force that rattled the frame.

Empty

He stood still for a moment, his mind screaming, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. His fingers tapped against the screen of his phone again, the ringing breaking through the silence. He lifted it to his ear with shaky hands, the tension in his shoulders building with each passing second.

But then he heard it—vibrations, the faint buzz a phone ringing.

It was coming from somewhere else. His breath caught in his throat as he whipped his head around, eyes scanning the dark room, but there was nothing. No one. And that’s when it hit him.

It was coming from above him.

His body was already reacting before his mind could fully process. He clenched his fists and rushed for the stairs taking two at a time, leaving the room before the phone could stop ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooper heard the sound of the door handle rattling and looked up, his eyes wide with panic. His grip on Y/N tightened, but as he glanced down at her, he saw the flicker of hope in her eyes as she looked toward the door. His jaw clenched, and he let out a low, frustrated growl. Her breath hitched against the boy's hand, which was now firmly pressed over her mouth. The weight of his body above hers felt suffocating, his other hand now rougher as it gripped her hip. She shivered under him, her body trembling in fear and desperation.

“Y/n?”

Rafe?

The door handle rattled again, louder this time.

Rafe’s voice rang out from the other side, cutting through the thick air. Y/N’s heart lurched at the sound, a tear rolling down her cheek in response.

“Y/N?!”

She sobbed out, but the sound was muffled, stifled by Cooper’s hand still firmly pressed against her mouth. Panic surged within her as she struggled against him, her eyes pleading. Cooper cursed under his breath, the realisation hitting him. He whispered harshly in her ear, his hand pressing harder over her mouth, his grip tightening on her hip.

“Stay quiet,”

The door rattled once more, but the lock prevented it from moving, leaving a silence that suffocated the room. Y/N let out a soft, muffled sob, her whole body aching for freedom.

This is my chance.

The thought screamed through her mind like a lifeline. In one swift motion, she threw her head back, slamming it into Cooper’s face. He fell backward, a grunt escaping his lips as he lost his balance and fell away from her, his hand slipping from her mouth. His name escaping her lips like a desperate prayer,

"RAF-"

The girl's voice was strangled in her throat, choked off by the sheer force as the boy’s hand slammed her head into the hard floor. The world blurred around her, and the sharp pain from the impact made everything go black for a second. Cooper swore under his breath, watching her head hit the floor with a sickening thud. The impact stopped her screams instantly, her body going limp beneath him as her mind tried to catch up to the chaos. Blood began to trickle from her nose, staining her lips and chin, but she couldn’t move, could barely breathe through the pain.

"Wrong move princess"

Cooper growled, his hands gripping her wrists tightly, holding her in place as she tried to slip away. He could feel her trembling beneath him, but it wasn’t fear now. She was just… too hurt to fight back. Outside the door, Rafe’s voice rang out, loud and frantic.

“Y/N please I know I fucked up please just- just open the door baby please”

Her heart seized at the sound of his voice, but all she could do was cry silently. She felt the blood drip from her nose, her hand shaking as it came up to touch it, her fingers slick with red. The pain was dizzying, but through it, she still heard the echo of a loud bang against the door. The sound reverberated through the room, making her heart pound. Cooper swore, his anger flaring as he hastily pulled up his trousers. His movements were rushed, irritated, and the loud bang against the door made him freeze. The force of it rattled the whole room, making him grit his teeth as he glanced down at the girl with disdain.

“You just had to make this difficult, didn’t you?”

Y/N lay on the floor, unable to move, her head pounding, the heat between her thighs burning uncomfortably. She could hear the banging on the door again, louder this time, before it suddenly stopped. Cooper stood behind her, a malicious glint in his eyes as silence filled the room. He straightened, brushing himself off as though nothing had happened.

The stillness was broken when the door swung open violently, Rafe rushing in with anger etched into every line of his face. His eyes scanned the scene, flickering between Y/N’s crumpled figure on the floor and Cooper standing next other hand on her arm the other on her back. Cooper tensed, forcing a fake calm as Rafe’s gaze lingered on the blood on her face and the tears streaking her cheeks.

“Oh princess- here let me help you up, that was a nasty fall wasn't it?”

Liar

Cooper said, attempting to feigned concern, though his voice betrayed a hint of unease. Her voice was barely a whisper, weak and trembling as she tried to speak through the haze of pain.

“Rafe-”

Rafe’s brows narrowed as he heard her. His gaze immediately shifted to her again, taking in every detail- her tear-streaked face, the blood dripping from her nose, and the trembling of her fragile frame.

“Y/n”

He began, stepping toward her instinctively, only for Cooper to step in his path, bumping into the boy blocking his way. The boy spoke, his tone sharp as his stance shifted to block Rafe completely.

“This doesn’t concern you Cameron,”

“Get out of my way before I fucking move you myself.”

Rafe snapped, his voice laced with venom as he squared his shoulders.

“I’m not moving anywhere,”

Behind them, Y/N shakily moved her arms, trying to push herself upright despite the pain. Blood from her nose dripped onto the floor, mixing with her tears. She winced as she leaned back, gasping audibly when the sharp, searing pain between her thighs flared. Her weak cry drew Rafe’s attention, his anger spiking as he noticed her efforts to sit up. His jaw clenched as he took in her disheveled state. Her hand reached up to wipe the blood beneath her nose, but the gesture only made it more apparent to Rafe what had happened.

Topless, her hair tangled, her tights ripped, her thighs marked with angry handprints.

Liar

Something in the boy snapped, and the sickening crack of his fist colliding with Cooper’s face echoed through the room. Cooper stumbled back, clutching his nose as blood poured between his fingers, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

“What the fuck?!”

He choked out, glaring up at Rafe through watering eyes. His attempt to stand was cut short as Rafe surged forward, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him back against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck did you do huh?”

Rafe snarled, his voice trembling with barely-contained fury. His fist connected with Cooper’s face again, the impact sending a fresh spray of blood down his chin. Cooper groaned, his legs giving way as Rafe shoved him harder against the wall.

“Rafe-”

Y/N’s frail voice cracked as she tried to get his attention, her trembling arms weakly reaching out. Her body screamed in protest, every movement amplifying the pain radiating through her but Rafe didn’t stop. Her words barely registered in his ears, drowned out by the sound of his ragged breathing and Cooper’s groans of pain. Cooper’s arms flailed, trying in vain to push Rafe off him. His words were a garbled mess, punctuated by coughs and gasps as Rafe’s fists repeatedly found their target. The thuds of bone against flesh echoed in the room, each hit fueled by a deeper, darker rage.

He threw Cooper to the floor with a force that rattled the furniture, the boy crumpling in a heap at his feet. Cooper groaned, trying to crawl away, but Rafe was on him again in an instant. He grabbed him by the shirt, hauling him up just enough to land another punishing blow to his jaw.

He's going to kill him

I'm going to kill him

“Rafe, please!”

Y/N cried out, tears streaming down her face. Her voice finally broke through to him, but only for a moment. He paused, looking over his shoulder at her, his chest heaving as his eyes flickered over her frame, eyes taking notice of her ripped tights. His fists clenched tighter, his knuckles white as he turned back to Cooper. He wailed out in agony, blood dripping past his lips,

“Stop-”

“Did you?”

He growled, his voice quieter now but no less dangerous as he held the boy up to look in his eye as he spoke.

“Did you stop? ”

“I didn’t- she-”

Cooper coughed, spitting blood onto the floor but Rafe didn’t let him finish. His hand came down wrapping around Cooper’s neck, pinning him to the ground as he leaned in close, the boy’s eyes widened in fear, his hands weakly clawing at Rafe's skin.

Y/N’s sobs filled the room, her broken cries pulling at Rafe’s fraying control. His hand loosened slightly trembling as he looked back at her. She was slumped against the bed, her arms wrapped around her chest as if trying to shield herself from the world. The sight of her- so vulnerable- made something inside him snap again, but this time it wasn’t rage.

It was guilt.

Guilt that clawed at his chest, threatening to crush him under its weight. He had been so blinded by his own pride, his own anger, the words he’d spat out at her in their argument echoing in his ears like a haunting refrain.

“You’re just a fucking slut.”

That was the reason she was here now, the reason she was stuck in this situation. If he hadn’t said those things to her, maybe they would be in his car, driving her home, maybe stopping to get ice-cream from that spot near the beach she loves so much.

The girl in front of him- was the consequence of his actions.

Of his words.

She should have never been in this position, he should’ve made it right before it ever came to this.

Her cries fell on deaf ears now. Rafe’s fists were slick with Cooper’s blood as he kept going, his knuckles slamming into flesh and bone. Y/N’s vision blurred as her sobs grew louder, her voice breaking as she begged him to stop.

“Rafe! You’re going to kill him!”

The commotion in the room had drawn a crowd. People gathered in the doorway and spilled into the hall, pushing against each other to see what was happening in the room, their whispers and gasps growing louder with each passing second. Someone muttered, “We need to call the police,” and Y/N’s heart clenched in panic, shaking her head weakly as tears streamed down her face.

No- no police

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around Rafe’s chest, pulling him off Cooper. It was Topper, who struggled to drag the boy back as he thrashed against him.

“Rafe- RAFE! That’s enough man-” Topper grunted, his arms straining to hold him. “You’re gonna kill him!”

Kelce rushed in, grabbing Rafe’s arm to help Topper haul him away from Cooper’s lifeless form on the floor. Cooper lay unconscious, blood pooling beneath his head as his chest rose and fell shallowly.

"I'm gonna kill you- did you hear me? I'm going to fucking kill you-YOU ASSHOLE!"

Sarah burst into the room, her eyes immediately landed on Y/N, and she froze, her face paling as she let out a quiet gasp, John B following after her, realising what was going on and quickly walking over and crouching down near the unconscious boy on the floor.

“Oh my God-”

Sarah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She looked back at Rafe, her voice trembling with shock.

“-what did you do, Rafe?”

Sarah turned back to Y/n, her heart breaking at the sight of the girl’s tear-streaked face. She knelt down beside her, grabbing the blanket off the bed and placing it over her shoulders to cover her bare frame, her voice soft and soothing despite her own panic,

“Hey, Hey it’s okay-”

But Y/N couldn’t stop crying, her hands clutching the blanket tighter as she shook under the girl's touch. Rafe finally stopped struggling, his chest heaving as he watched Y/n. Topper and Kelce let go of him cautiously, their hands still hovering near his shoulders in case he snapped again, Rafe moved toward her slowly, his bloodied hands trembling as he knelt in front of her.

“Y/N…”

His voice was low, as he reached out hesitantly. She flinched at his touch, the boy pulling his hand away from her shoulder. Y/N’s shook slightly, watching as the boy walked back to Topper and Kelce, John B standing up to look at the brunette, they mumbled something that she couldn't hear, her ears still ringing. John B nodded as he walked over to the door, the Pogue put his hands up standing in the door way as he spoke shutting out the flashlights of the videos being recorded,

"Okay party's over guys get out of the hallway-"

His voice muffled in Y/n's ears as she looked at Rafe through watery eyes, her lips trembling as she whispered,

"Don’t leave”

The boy turned around at the sound of her voice, hesitating as he looked to the girl then back at John B, the Pogue gave him a nod before slipping past the door ushering people away.

Rafe walked back towards the girl crouching down next to her, his hand trembled as it brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N’s face, his eyes scanning her battered form. His gaze dropped to the cut on her forehead and the blood still dripped from her nose, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths as she trembled against him.

“Sarah,” Rafe said quietly, his voice wavering as he turned to his sister, “- you need to call an ambulance.”

Sarah hesitated for just a moment, looking between her brother and Y/N, her hands hovering over the phone as if unsure what to do, but she nodded and quickly dialled the emergency number.

“Yeah, we need an ambulance,” Sarah spoke into the phone, her voice quiet but firm. “There’s a girl… She’s badly hurt-”

Y/N’s hand trembled as it gripped his shirt causing the boy's head to turn to her not expecting the touch, her gaze flickering up at him, but she shook her head weakly, her breath hitching as she winced in pain.

“No… no ambulance.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and broken from the sobbing that had wracked her body earlier,

“I don’t need one… I’ll be fine.”

Rafe’s heart clenched as he looked at her, feeling the weight of her words. He could see the panic in her eyes, the terror that held her back from accepting help.

“Please,” he said, his voice soft but full of desperation, “You need help- don’t do this to yourself.”

Y/n’s hand gripped his shirt tighter as she shakes her head.

“I can’t… I can’t… I don’t want them to- know what happened.”

Rafe felt his chest tighten at her words. It wasn’t just the physical pain she was enduring; it was the emotional weight, the shame, the fear of having to confront what she had been through, but Rafe couldn’t let her keep suffering.

Please

Please don't be scared- I'm right here

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with compassion, “I understand but you’re in pain. But you’re hurt. Please let them help you.”

She didn’t respond, just clung to him tighter, shaking her head again but Rafe was too stubborn to let go. Before he could say anything else, he heard Sarah’s voice behind him,

“Please, just let them come,” her voice now softer but still resolute, “They’ll help you”

Y/N’s eyes shot up to Sarah, and she opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. She could feel her body weakening, the pain between her legs, the aching in her head, and the nauseating dizziness threatening to overwhelm her. She wanted to resist, but her strength was slipping away faster than she could fight it. Y/N’s eyes blurred with more tears as she looked back at Rafe, her hands coming up to wipe them away, wincing as she hit her nose.

“I don’t want them to know… I can’t…”

“Shh, it’s okay,”

Rafe said gently, Sarah, despite Y/N’s protests, remained firm. The sound of the ambulance operator’s voice came through the phone, confirming that there was an ambulance dispatched and already on the way. Sarah hung up, setting the phone down. Y/N finally nodded weakly, her eyes closing for a moment as she tried to steady her breathing. Rafe’s hand hesitantly pressed against her back waiting for her reaction but nothing came, so he started rubbing soothing circles as he whispered comforting words in her ear.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the girl.

The boy could hear Topper and Kelce talking behind him, but their words felt distant. He didn’t care about Cooper right now- not when Y/N was in this state. The last time he’d seen her like this-

When her brother died...

If Topper and Kelce hadn’t pulled him off, he would’ve killed Cooper, he was sure of it. However it didn't worry him, the thought didn't repulse him either. The boy's voice broke through his thoughts, his tone low as he looked at Cooper’s unconscious body.

“Man, you really fucked him up”

Kelce muttered, his eyes lingering on Cooper’s bloody face. Topper, kneeling beside Cooper, was checking his pulse with his brow furrowed in concern.

“He’s still breathing…” Topper said.

Rafe didn’t respond, his attention still completely focused on Y/N. He kept replaying what had happened in his head- how he’d snapped, how he’d lost control… how he could’ve seriously hurt her too.

Her soft, labored breaths were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

He couldn’t look at Cooper, he didn't want to.

The image of the boy kneeled next to Y/n replayed in his mind and it made his stomach churn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wailing sound of sirens cut through the tension in the room.

Police.

Someone from the party had called, Y/N’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the sirens, her heart racing in fear. Panic surged through her, breath quickening as she realised what that meant.

They’re going to arrest Rafe for what he’s done to Cooper.

“No…”

Y/N whispered frantically, her voice barely audible through her panicked breaths. She tried to push herself off the floor, her body trembling with exhaustion and pain, but the effort was too much. Her head spun, and she let out a small, pained sob as a sharp ache shot through her body.

“Princess, don’t move,” Rafe he spoke softly, his hand gripping her shoulder to steady her.

Don’t call me that don't call me that don’t-

“Rafe, you have to leave-”

Her body trembled violently as the pressure of the movement became too much, her knees buckling slightly as she tried to stand.

“Y/N, stop—”

Rafe’s voice was more desperate now, but his hands were still gentle as he kept her from falling.

“I’m not leaving”

Y/N sniffled, her entire body shaking as she finally gave in and let Rafe pull her back against him. Yet the fear of Rafe being arrested made her chest constrict. She didn’t want him to go to jail. She couldn’t bear the thought of it.

“Please,” she whimpered weakly, tears rolling down her face, “I don’t want you to get arrested. You can’t… you can’t go to jail because of me, Ward would be so mad an-”

Rafe’s heart broke at her words, but he was willing to do anything for her. His touch on her back stayed firm as he sat on the floor next to her

“I’ll take care of it okay?” he whispered, his voice filled with certainty, though his mind was racing.

Rafe’s hand moved cautiously and was now resting on top of hers. She’d calmed a little since the sirens, but the weight of the situation was far from gone, her breath was shaky, uneven, her chest rising and falling in panicked gasps as she tried to steady herself. Every sound felt too loud. The distant sirens still echoed in her ears, a reminder that it wasn’t over yet and now, she could hear the unmistakable sound of heavy boots on the stairs, getting closer with every passing second. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Please please please please-

“Rafe, please…” she whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible as her body tensed again, the fear settling deep into her bones.

He didn’t need to ask. He could feel the change in her instantly- the way her body stiffened, the way her breath hitched with a renewed urgency. Her panic was coming back, sharper now, harder to suppress. He shuffled slightly closer, still careful not to overstep any boundaries which would trigger the girl, as he whispered her name trying to keep her grounded, but it wasn’t working. She was hyperventilating now, her chest constricting as she struggled to breathe through the overwhelming anxiety and fear. Her vision blurred at the edges, and she felt dizzy, detached from everything except the sharp, overwhelming pain that coursed through her and the thought that everything was falling apart around her.

“Y/N, hey, look at me,” Rafe said, his voice soft but firm as he tried to catch her eyes “Breathe. Come on, you need to breathe, princess. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Please stop calling me that

Her breath came in rapid, shallow bursts, and her hands were shaking as they gripped her thighs, her nails digging into her skin. She could feel the pressure in her chest, the tightness that wouldn’t release, as the sound of those boots grew louder, closer. Shoupe walked in, making the floorboards creak beneath him as he stepped inside. His eyes immediately locked on the scene before him: Cooper, unconscious on the floor.

Y/N felt her entire body go cold at the sight of the sheriff. She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to look at anyone, she felt ashamed. She was so tired- she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the tears away, but it was useless. The panic was too much, and she could hear herself sobbing, the sound raw and desperate.

“What in the hell happened here?”

Shoupe's voice called out, his tone a mix of confusion and frustration as he looked at the scene before him. Rafe’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching as he turned toward the sheriff, he could feel Y/N’s cries seeping through him.

“I didn’t do this,” Rafe muttered, his voice low and defensive as he met the sheriff’s gaze.

“Cooper he…”

He trailed off, his eyes flicking to Y/N, he wasn’t sure what he was doing...

What the fuck am I supposed to say?

Don’t say it

Shoupe looked between Cooper and Y/N, the blood and the bruises on her face, the visible signs of trauma. His eyes flickered back to Rafe, then to Sarah, who was standing in the doorway, her face a picture of concern.

It was clear that no one had a good answer to what had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was quiet now, the chaos of moments before replaced with the steady, measured voices of the paramedics as they worked on Y/N. She sat still, her body sore and exhausted, her mind still spinning with the memories of everything that had just happened. The paramedics were gentle with her, trying to assess her injuries without causing further pain, they’d already cleaned up the blood from her face and checked for any other signs of trauma, their movements swift and practiced as they worked efficiently.

Rafe sat next to her, his hand resting on her arm, offering what little comfort he could. His eyes were focused on her, but his attention also flickered toward the corner where Shoupe, Topper, Kelce, and Sarah were talking quietly. He could hear snippets of their conversation, the low hum of murmurs drifting through the air. Every so often, one of them would sigh or shake their head, this whole situation being something none of them wanted to face.

Sarah stood a little apart from the group, arms crossed, looking at the ground as she processed the gravity of what had just happened. Her eyes flickered to Y/N for a moment, but she quickly looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the sight of her, even more so with the knowledge of how much pain she was in.

Shoupe’s voice followed, a tone of regret in his words. He sounded almost apologetic, but his authority still carried the weight of someone who had seen too much and wasn’t quite used to witnessing this level of violence from people he knew personally.

“I don’t want to do this, but… I have to.”

Y/N’s eyes were closed now, her face emotionless, she could hear the conversations, the occasional sighs of disbelief, but it felt distant. Her head ached, her body ached, and she was exhausted in a way she had never known before. She nodded slowly when one of the paramedics asked her something, her body so heavy it felt like she could barely move. Her breath came in shallow measured intervals, her voice barely above a whisper as she responded to their questions.

I'm so tired

Rafe offered the occasional smile or reassuring nod when the paramedics addressed her, trying to keep her grounded in the moment. She didn’t speak much more, not even when the paramedic asked her about the pain. She simply shook her head. There were too many emotions swirling inside of her- too many things she wasn’t ready to voice.

“We’re going to take care of you, okay?” One of the paramedics said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to take you to the hospital, get you checked out.”

Y/N nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again, the coolness of the paramedic’s hand against her skin felt soothing, but it didn’t stop the constant, nagging thought in the back of her mind- the reminder that things weren’t going to go back to normal.

From the corner, Rafe could hear more murmurs from the group. Topper, Kelce, and Sarah were still talking, their voices a little more animated now, though there was a sense of heaviness in the air. Rafe could sense the tension between them, the way they all seemed to know what had happened, but no one knew what to say next. No one could quite wrap their heads around the situation that had unfolded.

“Rafe, man, if you didn't kill him after what he did then I…” Kelce started, but he trailed off, glancing toward the paramedics who were still working on Y/N. There was no easy way to finish that sentence. They all knew what had happened, but it wasn’t something anyone wanted to openly discuss.

Not now, not in front of her

Sarah’s gaze was still fixed on the floor, but she glanced up at Rafe, her eyes filled with something close to sadness.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Topper’s voice cut through the quiet, his tone serious but there was a tone of hesitance under the facade, the girl was like his sister and he didn’t know how to react. His eyes weren’t on the Y/n, but on the paramedics, trying to gauge how dire the situation really was. The paramedic replied, her voice professional but with a hint of concern.

“She needs to be seen by a doctor. There’s some... - trauma, and we need to make sure she’s stable.”

The paramedics and Rafe helped Y/N slowly to her feet, the movement slow and careful as they supported her fragile form. She could barely hold herself up, her body shaking, a low wince escaping her lips as the pain between her thighs flared up. She didn’t want to show it, but the agony was almost too much to bear, and her breath hitched in the process. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, trying to push through the pain. The paramedics exchanged a glance, a subtle shift in their eyes that Y/N didn’t catch, but Rafe did. One of them spoke quietly, though not loudly enough for her to hear.

“We’ll give her a minute,” the paramedic murmured, her voice low but firm. They moved away from Y/N and Rafe, walking toward Shoupe, speaking in hushed voices. Y/N could barely focus on what they were saying, her head still spinning from the overwhelming pain and fear. She leaned heavily against Rafe, her body shaking slightly, trying to steady herself. He looked down at her, concern flashing in his eyes as he gently cupped her shoulder, holding her steady.

“You okay?”

Obviously she's not idiot

He asked softly, his voice a little rough, though gentle. The sound of it grounded her for a second, giving her something to hold onto in the chaos of her mind. Y/N sniffled softly, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Her voice was barely a whisper, a tremor lacing her words.

“Hurts.”

She managed to say, her voice cracking slightly, her body was so weak, she couldn’t seem to find the strength to do anything more than breathe, and even that felt like a struggle. Rafe nodded, a simple, wordless acknowledgment of her pain. His gaze softened as he stayed by her side, letting her lean against him, offering his steady presence.

Her body felt like it was made of lead, and she could barely keep her eyes open as Rafe guided her toward the stairs. As they reached the door, the house was eerily quiet. The loud music and laughter from the party were long gone, replaced by an uncomfortable silence. The lights were dim, the place now abandoned.

The cool night air hit her, and she winced, feeling her body react to the change in temperature. The ambulance was parked right outside the house, its lights flashing in a rhythmic pattern, casting eerie shadows over the driveway. Rafe led Y/N to the open doors of the ambulance, and with careful precision, he helped her inside. She barely reacted, her mind too numb to feel anything beyond the persistent ache in her body, she whimpered as she sat down, causing the boy to grit his teeth.

Rafe sat beside Y/N, his body leaning slightly toward hers but not touching her, trying to provide the comfort she so desperately needed. She was quiet now, her breathing slow as the two of them were left in an uncomfortable silence. Her body trembled, her mind still reeling from the night. Rafe watched her closely, his hand gently moving over to try and rest on hers, fingers hovering but not quite touching. She met his gaze, he could feel her anxiety pulsing through the air,

“You’re gonna be okay”

He whispered, his voice low and soothing, trying to calm her down. He could see the way she stiffened, she didn’t respond, but after a moment, she moved her hand towards his which was resting on the bed. Her fingers trembled, but she intertwined them between his cautiously. Rafe froze slightly in surprise of her actions but he squeezed her fingers between his softly, offering her a sense of stability.

I love you, I'm sorry

For the first time in what felt like hours, Y/N managed the smallest of smiles, so faint it was almost imperceptible, but Rafe saw it, and it made something in his chest tighten. They sat there in silence, their eyes locked for a moment. It was strange, comforting even, just to be there together, without words but before either of them could say anything more, the silence was broken by someone clearing their throat.

They both looked over and saw Shoupe standing there, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. His expression wasn’t one of anger, but it was far from calm. He stood, his sheriff’s hat in his hands, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

“Listen, I really don’t want to do this, alright?” Shoupe began, his voice deep and weary, though there was a tone of regret in his words.

“But I gotta follow the regulations.”

Y/N’s heart began to race, and confusion flashed across her face as she looked between Rafe and the sheriff. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Rafe bit the inside of his mouth, the weight of what was coming slowly sinking in. He didn’t want to look at Y/N, not now- not when he saw the panic beginning to build in her eyes.

Rafe knew what he was about to say. “Rafe, son…” Shoupe’s voice softened just a bit.

“You’re going to have to come with me.”

What?

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening as the realization hit her like a cold wave. Her eyes widened as panic spread through her body. Her fingers tightened around Rafe’s hand, her grip desperate.

“What?” her voice was trembling. “No… you can’t do that—”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Shoupe said, his tone not unkind, but firm. “But the law’s the law. I’m just doing my job.”

Sarah, having noticed the change in Y/N’s demeanor, rushed over and she gently placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down, “it’s okay.” she said, her voice soft but reassuring.

Shoupe sighed heavily, his expression sympathetic as he looked down at Y/N.

“Look, if he did the right thing, you’ve got nothing to worry about. He’ll be out soon, alright? He won’t be gone long.”

But Y/N didn’t seem to hear him. She was shaking her head, tears threatening to spill as she looked up at Rafe, her eyes wide with panic.

“No, please don’t leave-” she whispered, her voice breaking, “Please I-” the words got caught in her throat.

I can’t do this without you

Rafe looked down at her, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He didn’t want to leave but he had no choice, he had to face the consequences. His gaze softened as he spoke,

“I’ll come see you at the hospital, yeah?” he promised, his voice steady, though there was a quiet sadness behind the words because he knew it was a lie. He'd be lucky if his dad could even find a was to bribe him out of this.

“You’ve got Sarah, she’ll be with you the whole time.”

Y/N nodded, but the fear in her eyes didn’t dissipate. She reached for his hand again properly this time, gripping it with everything she had left. Rafe paused for a moment, then raised their conjoined hands, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand.

He reluctantly let her hand go, and as he stood, he met Shoupe’s gaze. The sheriff gave a small, nod, and Rafe turned to leave, casting one last glance at Y/N as he was escorted away, the lights of the police car flickering against his face.

The door to the ambulance closed, and Y/N felt the weight of everything crash down on her all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420

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lonesilverw0lf · 11 hours ago

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The always smiling, closed eyed, rich, fashion conscious, cheerful, pampering, remembers everyone’s birthday, has everything but the kitchen sink in her purse, presence literally lightens up a room, wide thighs and big boobied Mom Friend is the Heroes Party financial manager. She is so good at keeping a budget, finding great deals, haggling, the whole nine, and still finds the funds to give everyone gifts that it’s scary. She has been singlehandedly keeping the whole party fed, clothed, supplied, and everything. Even the nerdy number crunchers can’t figure it out. She currently in a seedy part of a city, but why? She is checking in on a black market dealer and informant in a small back room. She was just about ready to leave when the Informant tipped her off that he has information regarding MC.

Informant: Heh, little missy wants to know about her wayward friend hm? Well, I’m afraid this is going to cost you a bit extra. That is outside of what we agreed on previously after all.

Mom Friend: Oh dear, you see I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You see I am willing to pay you for information about most things, even work some shady dealings with others here and there, but if it’s in regards to MC then you will give it to us pro bono.

Informant: Hahahaha! You don’t have any power here to make such demands!

Mom Friend: Ohohohoho, it’s in your best interest to tell me what I want to know. I’m not in the mood for bartering right now.

Informant: Someone from the so called Heroes Party obviously hasn’t taught you that things don’t work like that around here. Nor that you have any kind of protection here either. Let’s see if some time with Boris will straighten you out, eh?

Mom Friend, looks over to the large man eyeing her: Oh I’m sorry dear, but you’re not my type!

Informant: Hahahaha! You don’t understand your position here missy! This room is soundproof, there’s nobody that will hear you! That door is the only way in or out and it’s locked!

Mom Friend, sighing unperturbed as Boris stalks over to her: Oh dear, it looks like we’re going to do this the hard way.

In an instant Boris in on the ground writhing in pain.

Mom Friend: Oh don’t worry Mr Informant, I’ll get to you in just a moment. In the meantime, you can decide which of your fingers you want broken last.

Informant, uncomprehending what just happened: Y-y-y-you can’t do anything to me! I have protection from the King of Beggars!

Mom Friend: Oh, is that so? You really think your ‘King’ would protect someone who is stealing from him? Someone who is skimming a little extra gold, booze, women, off the top? Someone who’s slicing his shipments to him? Someone who is trying to build up their own little ‘kingdom’ within his own kingdom in a plot to eventually overthrow him in oh 2 years? Someone who drinks with the corrupt government officials and dreaming about how you’re going to dump his body into the moat with a bag of lead coins shoved down his throat? Not that you would allow those officials to stay long anyway, only a few months or so. That is if everything went smoothly for you. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to give him his cut of your dealings with me. Our meetings are ‘off the table’ in your words, and I know you also meant to your ‘King’.

Informant: What?! How did you-?!

Mom Friend, casually dislocating limbs on Boris while he screams: If anything, I think he’ll thank me. I’m sure he’ll appreciate knowing where those Antwon originals ‘disappeared’ to. He’d be one less rodent stealing from his table, and one less knife pointing at his back too. Sure he’ll lose an informant, but it’s not like you’re a very high ranking one though. There’s no shortage of criminals who’re envious of your position, they’d jump at the chance to prove to your ‘King’ they have what it takes to replace you and then some. And without the treasonous thoughts too! At least for a while. Even if he doesn’t thank me, you’re going to be feeling the full extent of my ‘administrations’ for a very, very, very~ long time. I am nothing if not thorough!~

Informant, sweating: Ha! You can’t frighten me with-

Mom Friend: You know I had a rebellious phase when I was twelve. I wanted to read those smutty Count Dracula stories because my parents told me not to, but I accidentally found myself reading about Vlad Dracul III of Romania. He was reportedly the inspiration of Bram Stokers original Count Dracula, but I found his other moniker of Vlad the Impaler far more interesting. That led me down a historical rabbit hole of our worlds history’s darker side. Brazen Bulls, Interrogation Chairs, Iron Maidens, the Racks, oh mankind can be… inventive. Did you know there are 206 bones in the human body? Or that certain Chinese pressure points discovered to cause unimaginable pain when triggered? How many volts of lightning that can travel through a body before being permanently damaged? How long someone can laugh unstopped before dying? How long someone can survive in the extreme temperatures? How little food and water is needed to keep someone just barely alive? I’ve had some fascinating discoveries for someone so young on the dark web. While I may be limited to what I have on hand, I’m sure I’ll manage.

Informant, now cowering: Why are you doing this?

Mom friend: Because I’m what we call a ‘mom friend’. Although I would prefer to be called big sis, ‘momma’ makes me sound so old but that’s not important. What is important is that you give me the information about MC, because we are missing our friend and want him back. Back home our towns mascot is the grey wolf. Oh I know they’re a bit of a pest in your world but back home they’re creatures of beauty. They’re strong, capable, adaptable, intelligent, and above all loyal.

We are a team. A family. We take care of each other, protect one another, will do crazy things for each other. We are going to save this world, and we are all going to go home. Together. We are going to bring MC with us. You are going to tell me everything you know about MC.

Mom Friend, now a looming presence who hasn’t broken her smile once: Now then, care to make a deal? Or are we going to discover what happens when Mommy turns into Momma Bear?

MC: walks through the front door of the building being used as a front and gets one whiff of Mom Friends perfume

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

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slickdickwitchbitchh · 2 days ago

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OBX realityshow!au

“Coming Soon: Outer Banks After Dark”

Coming to Netflix this summer !

It’s the show everyone will be talking about—a reality TV experiment like no other. Welcome to the Outer Banks, where the richest of the rich—the Kooks—rule the pristine beaches and country clubs, while the Pogues, the working-class locals, hustle to make a living on the water. The divide between these two worlds has fueled decades of tension, and now, it’s about to hit a boiling point under the summer sun.

This season: Relationships will ignite, friendships will fracture, and secrets will explode.

Meet Y/N: the wildcard in a love triangle that’s shaking the OBX to its core. On one side, there’s JJ—the fun-loving bad boy with a reckless streak and a heart of gold. On the other, Rafe—the reformed kook whose dangerous charm has everyone questioning his motives. Sparks fly as Y/N tries to navigate her feelings, but when a late-night pool party takes a turn, the rivalry between JJ and Rafe threatens to get out of control.

But that’s just the beginning. Sarah Cameron is navigating her own triangle with long-time boyfriend John B and her ex, Topper. "Once a Topper, always a Topper," she teases in her confessional—but John B isn’t laughing. When an innocent game of truth or dare turns personal, things get messy.

And then there’s Sarah and Kiara. Once inseparable, now anything but. Their unresolved tension from Kiara’s kook year resurfaces, threatening to split the group down the middle. "She acts like she’s better than me now," Sarah snaps. "But we all remember who she was."

"I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of this," Y/N admits in her confessional. "I’m friends with both of them, but it’s exhausting trying to keep the peace when they can’t even be in the same room together."

And while Cleo and Pope are the group’s newest power couple, even they aren’t immune to the drama. "We’re just trying to stay out of it," Cleo jokes in her confessional. Pope smirks, adding, "But let’s be real, these people live for chaos."

Friendships will be tested. Lines will be crossed. Hearts will be broken.

So, grab your drink and settle in for the world’s most dramatic beach house experiment. This isn’t just summer in the OBX—this is Outer Banks After Dark.

First Chapter

Author's Note

Hey guys,

Thank you so much for checking out my story! This is my very first fanfiction, and I’m so excited (and nervous) to share it with you all. I’m keeping things open and fun, so if you have any ideas or plotlines you’d like to see, my requests are definitely open. I’d love to hear your thoughts and suggestions—this story is for all of us to enjoy together!

This will be a love triangle for Y/N, and honestly… I don’t even know who she’s going to end up with yet! I’m just as torn as she is, so we’ll figure it out together as the story unfolds.

Oh, and one last thing! I’ll be posting a moodboard for Y/N and the show tomorrow, so stay tuned for that! I can’t wait to dive deeper into the vibes of this story with you.

Thank you again for all your support, and I hope you love what’s coming!

xoxo, [Z]

#jj maybank smut #obxrealityshow!au #outer banks #obx fanfiction #rafe obx #obx season 4 #obx fic #sarah cameron #john b routledge #pope heyward #cleo anderson #kiara carrera #jj maybank #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader x jj #rafe x reader #obxafterdark

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sky-scribbles · 2 days ago

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Party Banter with Rook!Blackwall

Harding: You know, for a moment back there, I thought you might actually get through to Solas.

Thom: Regret’s something we have in common. I thought… if I reached out to him, told him I understood what guilt drives you to do…

Harding: But no. ‘Do not compare your regrets with mine, Thom Rainier!’

Thom: He’s right, though. He can at least say he did his crimes trying to stop tyrants. I did mine for coin.

Harding: Uh, yeah, and then you faced up to it and decided no one else was going to get hurt for it except you. Solas is right. He’s nothing like you.

—

Lucanis: Do we have a problem, Warden Rainier?

Thom: You kill people. For gold.

Lucanis: I do. Venatori. Blood mages. The political rivals of those who hired me.

Thom: And that’s enough for you? Someone flashes a purse, and you’re ready to murder over some nobles’ spat over which of them gets the bigger fancy house?

Lucanis: Depends on the size of the purse.

—

Bellara: Um, so, about the mayor of D'Meta's Crossing? I just… do you really want someone like that? In the Wardens, I mean.

Thom: I won’t defend him. But he wouldn’t be the first Warden who let innocent people die for gold, and got another chance from the Order.

Bellara: He doesn’t deserve it. Like, really, really doesn’t deserve it.

Thom: No. Neither did I.

—

Thom: Do you ever get people trying to bribe you? To look the other way, or drop a case, or...

Neve: It's Minrathous. If I took even half the bribes I've been offered, I could buy an estate in Hightown.

Thom: It takes a special kind of strength to resist that.

—

Thom: I got a letter from Sera the other day. Don’t ask me how she got it to the Lighthouse.

Harding: ‘Friends’, I bet. And hey - she dealt with the Fade for you! So what'd she say?

Thom: Well, there was a lot of calling Solas a shite-faced arseknuckle. And then she told me not to get killed, or she’d yank my beard ‘til my head came off.

Harding: Aw.

—

Lucanis: Rainier, I do not knife civilians. Everyone I have killed has been embedded in politics. Their hands are never clean.

Thom: And you're sure you’ve never made a mistake? Never got a passer-by or a child caught in all the blades and arrows? Never gone in without knowing everything, and got someone hurt?

Lucanis: Of course not. I’m a professional.

Thom: You’re a mercenary with a cape.

—

Thom: You could’ve left Dock Town. A mage. Talented. You could’ve gone anywhere, chased a better life.

Neve: If I left, I’d be abandoning people who never got that choice. I’m good where I’m at.

Thom: I hope you know how admirable that makes you.

Neve: Not that admirable. If I got that estate in Hightown? Too far to walk to Hal’s fish stand.

Thom: (laughs) Good priorities.

—

Davrin: So, Rainier. Heard a lot of rumours about how you joined the Wardens.

Thom: (uneasy noise) You know, Warden Blackwall told me your past gets forgotten after the Joining.

Davrin: A nice ideal, but it never stands up to the gossip. But you’ve shown your worth.

Thom: Enough for me to have one of those griffons when we rescue them, d’you reckon?

Davrin: (laughs) We’ll see.

—

Thom: I knew someone like Manfred once. He was a spirit, but he sort of… grew his own body.

Emmrich: Oh! A spontaneous incarnation! Do you happen to know what kind of spirit he was?

Thom: Uh… the kind that looks like a young man, but reads minds and flits about trying to make everyone feel better about themselves?

Emmrich: Ah, Compassion! A rather more advanced emotion than Curiosity, and therefore capable of manifesting a physical body, rather than needing to adopt a vacant one.

Thom: More advanced? Right. That explains why Cole used to talk to me about living with the weight of regret, and Manfred spent ten minutes yesterday poking my face to see if my beard came off.

—

Neve: So, you know Dorian?

Thom: Does anyone who’s been in the same room as him for thirty seconds get a choice about knowing Dorian?

Neve: And didn’t always get along, I take it.

Thom: He’s… he’s not so bad. We might’ve judged each other by first impressions back when we met.

Neve: And what’s your impression now?

Blackwall: Still too fancy for his own good. But it says exactly who he is that he’s fighting against slavers and blood mages. I think I got the better deal with the darkspawn.

—

Taash: I heard the Inquisitor turned into a dragon.

Thom: No, she… didn’t. But she did get one to fight with us once.

Taash: She did? What kind? How’d she do it?

Thom: Sort of… gold? And she drank from this pool of elven magic, and… that somehow let her ask it to help us. I think.

Taash: Did she ride it into battle?

Thom: Uh… No.

Taash: Oh. I would’ve ridden it into battle.

—

Thom: Emmrich, do you know what those demons were the other day? The ones that wouldn’t leave me alone?

Emmrich: Ah. Those were manifestations of Shame. A variant of the Despair spirit.

Thom: Right. Don’t know what I expected.

Emmrich: If it’s any consolation, I find that one can tell much more about a person from the more benign spirits that gather around them. I catch glimpses of them about you often. Valour. Fortitude. Honour.

Thom: I hope to be worthy of them.

—

Thom: Lucanis, have you ever regretted any of your kills?

Lucanis: Not so far.

Thom: So this is what you’re fine with being? A man who takes nobles’ money and lives in luxury with your bloodied hands? That's the life you chose?

Lucanis: Not ‘chose’, exactly. It is what I was trained to be since my childhood.

Thom: Wait. You were – who trains a child to be an assassin?

Lucanis: You met my grandmother.

—

Davrin: You held up pretty well in the last fight, Rainier. For an old man.

Thom: Whelp like you’d better watch what he says around a senior Warden.

Davrin: Why? You’ll tell me to do the fifty press-ups that your creaky bones can’t handle?

Thom (laughs) I’ll stop letting you borrow my best chisel.

—

Bellara: Hey, um, Thom? You know that little rocking griffon you made? Could you make, I don’t know, a bigger one? Like… adult… person-sized?

Thom: (chuckles) You never have a rocking griffon growing up?

Bellara: No! They’re not a Dalish thing! Because you can’t really rock. When the aravel’s moving, I mean. So… no, it’s a dumb idea. Forget I said anything.

Thom: You want me to make it a rocking halla?

Bellara: Yes please thank you.

—

Emmrich: How far you must have travelled, with both the Inquisition and the Wardens!

Thom: I like being on the road. Keeps a man honest.

Emmrich: I rather envy your fearlessness of the wider world. It’s so recent that the end of the Circles allowed me to travel freely outside the Necropolis.

Thom: Must have been freeing. Having the whole world suddenly open to you.

Emmrich: And rather overwhelming, I must admit. When I compare myself to you – a brave Warden, combatting the Blight across all of Thedas…

Thom: Trust me: compare the two of us, and that’s the only way I’ll come out better from it.

—

Thom: We fought quite a few dragons in the Inquisition. Almost got eaten once by some pissed-off beast in the Hinterlands. Kept throwing its dragonlings at us.

Taash: Fereldan Frostbacks are crappy mothers. First sign of trouble, and it’s ‘here! Take my children!’

Thom: (laughs) The worst was the lightning-spitter off the Storm Coast. Spent twenty minutes hacking away at its scales, rest of my team unconscious on the ground.

Taash: Wait - you what? That's not how you fight dragons. You can't just stand there and hit them. That's stupid. And boring.

—

Lucanis: It’s how the Crow Houses work. Children of the House lineage are trained from our infancy.

Thom: Andraste’s fucking tits.

Lucanis: It’s necessary. If Illario and I had been coddled… Caterina pushed us hard and young, because she wanted us to survive.

Thom: I don’t… (sighs) The things people do to children.

—

Harding: I never thought to ask - how come Varric changed your nickname?

Thom: I asked him to go with something else. 'Hero'... that was a name he gave to Blackwall.

Harding: Well, he chose the right name. You know, 'cause Rooks move in straight lines. And you charge right in there, don't mess around with fancy words, just hit things til they drop. You could say you're -

Thom: Don't do it, Lace.

Harding: Straightforward.

Thom: (chuckles) You're as bad as Sera.

—

Emmrich: Master Rainier, I wanted to say – I hope you know that you’re the only person here who looks at you with any harshness.

Thom: I – (sighs) You don’t know everything about me.

Emmrich: I would never claim to. But I know that you place yourself before your allies and the defenceless without hesitation and with utter selflessness. I know you understand your Warden oath better than many of your superiors. I know that you are a good man.

Thom: … I wish I knew what it was like to be you. Seeing the good in everyone, living or dead.

Emmrich: Then I hope you’ll permit me continue to see the good in you – until you can see yourself as I do.

#in which blackwall starts to have a very belated bisexual awakening #datv #da:tv #rookwall au #blackwall #i promise he and lucanis will get a better relationship :'D #but we know from his and dorian's bickering that he can be very judgmental on first impressions #and lucanis is reminding him too much of his younger self. they even look kind of alike!#will probably write more!#sky's writing #veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers

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blushsturns · 3 days ago

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perv!matt x innocent!reader ♡

part 4 ❤︎ wet dreams

hcs - 1 - 2 - 3

❤︎ description: matt wakes up from a wet dream and starts to text you about it, but you invite him over instead. (in matt’s pov)

❤︎ warnings: pure smut, explicit content, f! receiving oral

❤︎ w/c: 4834

❤︎ matt’s texts are in blue!

matt woke up in agonizing pain. it hurt, badly. if he didn’t get some kind of release sometime soon, he would probably lose it. he was going insane.

his first ever wet dream about you. in between your thighs; kissing you, licking you, tasting you. in his dreams, you tasted fucking phenomenal. you gripped on his hair tightly and fucked his face as he devoured your sweet cunt.

in his dream, he was in absolute heaven, but it was just a dream.

so, when matt woke up with the biggest hard on he’s had in his entire life and a huge wet patch against the front of his boxers, he wasn’t sure what to do. he groaned in pain, throwing his head back against the pillow as he moved his hand to push his hardened bulge down repeatedly to try and stop the intense sensation.

thank god he slept alone because this was truly embarrassing. he thought he was done with this shit. he’s had wet dreams before when he was younger, but that was self explanatory. he had no excuse for this one.

well, maybe he does. you were on his mind every second of every day. ever since the moment you two shared in the closet at nick’s party, it was all he could think about. your lips against his neck, sucking on his skin and leaving behind the most beautiful bruise he wished would’ve stayed longer. he had that reminder left on his skin of you making him feel fucking amazing and when it faded, he kept it imprinted in his brain.

he let out a soft groan out of frustration. it was no use. nothing was helping. he thought to himself maybe now that they’ve had some interactions, he would actually have the courage to be vocal about what he wanted and needed.

matt moved his hand over to grab his phone off the nightstand. maybe he should just stop being so scared and actually say what he wanted for once.

truth is, he’s wanted you for so long. ever since he laid his eyes on you, he’s been hooked. infatuated. obsessed. the obsession with you happened very quickly and has only progressed rapidly over the years. he was one of your best friends, but he always knew it was more than that. at least for him, anyway. he looked out for you, was there for you if you needed him. it was like he wanted you to come to him for comfort and support so he can show you how a man should treat you. he hated seeing you hurt and just wanted to protect you from it all.

he was so obsessed with you to the point that you were all he could think about. it was driving him fucking insane. he wanted you and every part of you.

it became so unbearably hard because he knew he couldn’t have you. you never seemed to feel the same way because you were always so independent and carefree and even when you had dates with other boys, he still wanted you. it devastated him to see you get your heart broken, wishing he could pick up the pieces and put your mended heart back together.

he always assumed you’d never feel the same way , not until recently. ever since you noticed your panties in his back pocket the night you all watched a movie together, he felt as if maybe you were finally noticing him and who he truly was, rather than just the awkwardness in his personality. maybe you were starting to actually notice him. he did tell you how much he’s always wanted you. he was vocal about that for once.

matt let out a groan, the uncomfortable hardness not going away any time soon as he opened up his phone and immediately tapped on your name.

i had a dream about you last night and i can’t stop thinking about it.

matt’s heart quickened as he sent the message. within seconds, bubbles started to appear on the screen.

oh you did? what was it about?

it’s kind of embarassing..

come over and tell me about it. i’m making breakfast, you can have some while you rant.

give me 10.

matt immediately got out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, trying to push his hard on away so it wasn’t completely evident when he went over to your house. he knew just telling you about it and standing right in front of you would only make his cock even more excited, so he decided to just say fuck it and try to hurry as fast as he can. he needed to see you.

after brushing his teeth and trying his best to look decent, he scurried his way out of his house. thank god you only lived next door and not across town. nick and chris were still asleep so at least he didn’t have to explain to his brothers where he was going so early in the morning with a fucking hard on in his pants.

he knocked only twice before coming face to face with you. he couldn’t help but scan you up and down, taking in your beautiful appearance. your hair was up in a messy bun with strands of hair falling onto the sides of your face, your oversized t-shirt covered your entire upper body but showed off your amazing toned legs. all you had on was a pair of lacy panties underneath. usually you didn’t want anyone seeing you like this, but it was matt. he’d stare at you like this no matter what you looked like.

“um, hey.” he said kind of awkwardly, his hand immediately falling into his tousled brown locks. “thanks for letting me stop by.” he could still feel the lingering hard on that was throbbing in his pants and it wasn’t helping that he was now face to face with the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

he tried desperately not to stare at your body as you stood there, a smile widening on your face. the wafting aroma of pancakes lingered in the air and filled his nostrils. he knew you loved to cook, no matter what kind of food it was. you always liked to try different recipes and have your loved ones try them. it was like one of your many love languages. “hi matt! of course! as soon as i knew you were stopping by, i put more on the pan.”

you bounced on your heels, your smile only widening as you shut the door behind him once he steps inside. fuck, were you so fucking addictive. your personality in itself is so damn contagious and he wanted to be around you all the damn time.

“oh, thank you. aren’t you a sweetheart?” hell yeah you were.

his eyes scan over the room before averting his eyes to your ass as you turn around and motion for him to follow you into the kitchen. you looked fucking amazing even in just a big t-shirt. he ended up envisioning you wearing only his shirt and lounging around the house and that thought was not helping his still evident hard on that you obviously noticed the second you opened the door for him. he got lost in his thoughts and snapping out of them immediately once he heard your voice.

“come on! they’re almost done.” you called out to him as you stood at the stove, your hips swaying as you flip the pancake in the pan.

matt gulped slowly, suddenly feeling nervous as he walks into the kitchen to join you and leans against the kitchen island as he watches you intently. even when you’re in your element, you looked effortlessly beautiful. how come everything you did made him fall for you ten times harder?

“they smell amazing. you didn’t have to make me any.”

you turned around to raise your eyebrow at him with a stern look on your face. “nope. you’re having as many as you want. i wanted to.” you finished off the rest of the pancake mix, letting it sit in the pan to form before turning to look back over at him. he looked nervous and on edge standing there; like he so badly wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to.

your eyes glared down to the hardened bulge that outlined the center of his sweatpants. how was he hard already? you fought the urge to bite down on your bottom lip, your cheeks already growing warm as you immediately averted your eyes back to his.

he caught on to your subtle staring, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as well. “thanks. i’ll have some, then.”

you came back to your senses, flashing him a wide grin before turning your attention back to the pancakes that were now done and cooling off. as you waited for them to cool off, you moved over next to him and hopped up onto the chair at the kitchen island. “so, tell me about this dream you had of me.” you wiggled your eyebrows up at him playfully, a light giggle emitting from your lips.

his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink as he immediately averted his eyes down at the marbled surface before back up at you. “well, it wasn’t just an ordinary dream. the dream had me waking up like, really fucking hard actually.” his cheeks flushed even more, his eyes moving back down and not being able to hold eye contact with you as he says this. “in the dream, it felt so real though. like fuck, i wanted it to be real.” he let out a nervous laugh, his knee beginning to bounce which was one of his nervous habits.

it’s not that he was nervous of you or being around you. he fucking loved being around you and tried to find any excuse to do so. it’s the idea of you knowing he’s capable of having these thoughts about you even if he’s already voiced it before. having dreams about you though? he’s never had one like it before.

this piqued your interest as you kept your eyes focused on him. “what happened in it, matt? you can tell me.” your voice was soft and reassuring. you wanted to make sure he knew that you weren’t judging him. you were also intrigued since the moment he texted you. you just had to know what the dream was about, especially since it involved you.

“well, it’s kind of something i’ve been wantin’ to do for awhile and maybe that’s why i dreamt of it but it got me really goin’-“ he stopped his words, feeling absolutely flustered, his cheeks reddening by the second. his eyes moved over to yours once again, your eyes now locked together in an intense gaze. you weren’t able to read him. all you could tell was that he was completely flustered and when you looked down at the center of his sweatpants, you could visibly see he was harder than he was before he stepped foot into your house.

“matt..” you spoke immediately, moving off your chair to move over next to him, your hand now resting against his shoulder, your eyes still locked together. the poor thing was a nervous wreck. you thought it was fucking adorable. he was so flustered, unable to speak. “it’s okay. instead of explaining to me what happened, why don’t you show me? actions speak louder than words don’t they?” you flashed him a sly smirk, your fingertips running down his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt before slowly moving your hand up to his hair and running your fingers through his tousled locks and gave his hair a slight tug. “it’s okay, sweetheart. show me.”

something switched in matt after you spoke. his eyes began to darken with lust and desire as he stared up at you from the chair he was sitting on. you could swear you heard matt whine from you tugging on his hair. you stood there next to him, your fingers wrapped up in his locks as you kept your gaze focused on him.

without any hesitation, matt immediately moved his hands over to the back of thighs and down to your ass to lift you up against him with your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he walks you over to the counter and sets you down onto it. a soft, surprised gasp emits from your lips at his sudden movements. you loved seeing matt like this. he was usually so cautious and embarrassed easily, but when he lost control which wasn’t often, it was incredibly hot and so attractive.

fuck. the boy really does want you, doesn’t he? you spent countless hours throughout the last couple weeks wondering his true feelings and if you reciprocated those feelings for him. when matt does things to surprise you like this, it turns you on and leaves you wanting more. you didn’t realize matt was capable of being this way and you were slowly becoming obsessed with seeing him lose control.

your eyes lock together in an intense gaze, your hands resting onto his shoulders now. “show me, matt. please.” you pleaded, your own eyes filling with desire. your legs wrapped around his waist tighter to pull him closer to you, your hand moving up to run through his brunette locks. you were becoming addicted to the feeling of his hair between your fingers. adrenaline ran throughout your body from your head to your toes. “you don’t have to hold back.” you whispered out, giving his hair another slight tug which drawled out a soft whine from matt’s lips. okay yeah, you fucking loved this.

the words that fell from your lips were all it took for matt to finally break away any shyness and flustered feelings he had before. seeing you like this; pleading him not to hold back, to have him show you what his dream was and giving him the permission to make that dream a reality. he needed this. he needed you. he immediately placed his hands onto your bare thighs, your oversized shirt already rising up from where you sat on the counter. he moved one hand up your bare thigh underneath your shirt against your side, your fingertips drumming against the hem of your lacy panties “oh fuck.” he breathed out, already seeming breathless just by the touch of the lace covering the most intimate part of you. the part he needed to touch, kiss, taste in this very moment.

your body immediately jolted forward at his touch against your skin and teasingly pulling on your panties. his other hand moved up to place his index and middle finger underneath your chin to allow your eyes to lock together in an intense gaze. his blue eyes turned darker than usual. you could tell how much he needed you in this moment. as if he was an animal that was malnourished and needed to be fed. he needed to taste you. now.

you lifted your hips up slightly to allow him to remove your panties down your legs. you watched his every move as his fingers tugged your panties down, his eyes not being able to take his eyes off your pretty lace panties that were once covered by your pretty pussy that he needed so much. you were already soaking wet and it was evident with a small amount of your arousal coating them before allowing them to fall down onto the kitchen floor. this very moment felt so intimate, so fucking right and your cheeks were fucking burning from how much you were blushing.

you never thought this would ever happen, but you weren’t complaining. he spread both of your legs immediately with both of his palms, the pad of his thumbs caressing the inside of your thighs in smooth, slow circles. your breath hitched as you stared down at him, watching his every move. his hardened cock was pressing against his tightened sweatpants, begging to be free, but he didn’t seem phased by it one bit. all he could focus on was that he finally had you in the palm of his hand and he was savoring every fucking second of it.

“god, your skin is so smooth. feeling s’good against my fingertips.” he whispered this in a sultry tone, so unlike his usual voice. it was so fucking hot you felt like you might combust right then and there. you knew he could feel the heat radiating from your core as his hand inched up higher, closer to your sweet cunt.

he moved his hand to your bare hip, your shirt riding up everytime his hand moved. you melted against his touch. your breathing getting hitched in your throat. you didn’t know what to say, if you even could speak. all you could do was watch him lose and take control and have you at his mercy. his fingers caressed your inner thighs underneath your shirt in a teasing manner and it made you want to scream, needing him to touch you where you wanted it the most.

you had to be patient though. he’s wanted you for so long, you knew he wouldn’t just walk out without showing you exactly what he dreamt about.

“spread your legs f’me. need you. now.” he spoke this is a dominant, rough tone through gritted teeth. it was almost as if he was about to combust from how much he’s needed you for so damn long and he was finally getting to have a taste of you.

you did as you were told, spreading your legs wider against the countertop. fuck, this was so dirty and so hot and your head was spinning, your mind clouded with dirty thoughts and consumed of nothing but matt and how he’s wanted this for so long. maybe you have, too.

your shirt rose up completely now and you took the initiative to place your shirt directly at your hips and hoped it would stay there and not get in the way. your breath felt like it was caught in your throat at this point as you stared at him. his eyes were hungry, needy, and full built up lust and want. “been wantin’ this for so long. so fuckin’ long, sweet girl.” he used his fingers to cup underneath your chin in a rough manner , your eyes staying locked together firmly.

“a little taste won’t hurt.” you breathed out, already shaking with anticipation and adrenaline that rushed through you. your spread legs and bent your knees as you sat on the edge of the counter as he bent down onto his knees and suddenly he was face to face with your sweet, pretty pussy.

“holy shit.” he breathed out, a soft groan already emitting from his lips at the sight of your glistening arousal. your core was throbbing already, desperate and needing matt any way he was willing to give you. “fuck. you truly are beautiful, every single fuckin’ inch of you.” he caressed your inner thighs with his hands, your skin feeling like butter against his fingertips.

your cheeks were bright red at this point as he continued to stare at your sweet pussy, practically drooling at the sight. he had wanted this for so long and so many times he had imagined what you looked like when he’d take your underwear just to put them around his cock as he pumped it in his hand, cumming all over the lacy fabric with your name falling from his lips. now he gets to have you, inches close to tasting you.

his finger ran across your glistening folds, admiring your pretty pussy and how wet you were for him. your cheeks were bright red as he continued to stare longingly at you, not being able to quite take his eyes off you as his finger slowly rubbed your swollen nub.

his hot and hot heavy breath lingered against your center, feeling yourself growing more soaked by the second. he looked up at you from the position he was in on his knees in front of you, his eyes full of lust and need. “such a beautiful fuckin’ pussy, sweetheart. god, look at you.”

before you could even reply to his words, he immediately leaned forward and dove his head in between your thighs, his tongue running up and down against your glistening folds causing your body to jolt forward against the feeling of his tongue finally against you. your hand insrantly found his hair again and ran your fingers throughout his hair, a soft moan leaving your lips. fuck, his tongue felt so good against you.

he dreamt of this for so long. the taste of your arousal coated his tongue as he began to lap his tongue against your glistening folds, swirling his tongue around in several directions as he hummed against you to send vibrations down your core. you were throbbing immensely and the feeling of his tongue finally against you was so damn rewarding. you couldn’t believe this was happening and you didn’t want it to stop.

his tongue plunges into your core repeatedly, lapping up your sweet juices as they coat his tongue. your fingers wrap around his hair tighter and pull onto his head to dive his head more into your center. you wrap your legs around his face which causes a groan to erupt from his throat and send vibrations down to your core. you throw your head back against the kitchen cabinet. you refuse to close your eyes, wanting to savor this moment as long as possible.

watching him eat you out was the hottest fucking thing. you didn’t want it to end. fire coursed throughout your veins, sending shockwaves down to your body at the feeling his tongue rolling along your glistening folds before he began to suck onto your swollen clit and taking it between his lips. he sucked onto it hungrily, lapping his tongue against it each and every time he’d let it go. he devoured your pussy hungrily, not being able to stop. “o-oh fuck. matt. that’s feels.. so nice.” you moan out your words, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging hard.

he looked up at you as he continued to devour you, running his tongue up and down your glistening wet folds, moaning against your center as he opens up his eyes to look up at you. he’s mesmerized by how your face looks when you throw your head back in absolute ecstasy. fuck, he’s been dreaming about this for so long and now he’s finally getting a taste of you.

he pulled away just for a second to breathe, licking over his lips hungrily like he was already having withdrawals. you pulled one hand away from his hair to place against your own chest, massaging your breast through the fabric of your shirt. you looked down at him, your arousal glistening against his lips. the loss of his tongue made you whine, but you locked your eyes with him, already looking fucked out. “fuck, sweet girl. you taste so divine. got me addicted to this pussy.” he spoke in a sultry tone, licking over his own lips once more.

“can’t stop.” was all he said breathlessly, flashing you a sly smirk before diving back in between your thighs. his hands moved to your inner thighs to hold you still as he ran his tongue up and down your glistening cunt. he waited for so long to be able to taste you and he couldn’t believe this was actually fucking happening.

he sucked onto your swollen clit, lapping his tongue against it repeatedly as your legs begin to shake from the pleasure filling inside of you. “f-fuck!” you shouted out, gripping onto his hair to keep his head in place so he wouldn’t move away from your center, not that he’d want to. he could tell you were getting closer to your orgasm. he didn’t stop, continuing to roll his tongue along your glistening pussy, moaning against you with the taste of you driving him absolutely fucking insane.

you were so close to your orgasm. your body began to shake and tremble with fire coursing throughout your veins. you didn’t want this to end, but you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on. you continued to grip onto his hair to hold his face in place as you watched him devour your pussy like a starved man, addicted to your taste. addicted to you. “oh, fuck matt! i’m s-s-so close!” you stuttered your words as you moaned loudly, profanities falling from your lips as your heart raced rapidly in your chest.

god, he looked so fucking good between your legs. you wished you had your phone to take a picture for later, you’d already keep it engraved in your brain anyway. he gripped harder on your thighs to hold you still as you tried to rock your hips up into him, in an attempt to fuck his face as he sucked onto your clit feverishly. he pulled away just for a moment to look back up at you, his lips curving into a devious smirk as he licked over his lips hungrily. “cum for me, sweet girl. been needin’ to taste you for so long. cum on my tongue and let me taste you. wanna see you when you cum f’me. keep your eyes open, alright ma? don’t be shy now.”

he immediately went back to licking your swollen bud repeatedly, sucking onto it and moaning against you, your eyes locked together. you made sure to keep your eyes opened the entire time just like he demanded. hearing his dirty words and watching him fucking devour you is what caused you to get sent over the edge. you didn’t realize how badly you needed this until you saw him between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

suddenly, your body began to shake as your orgasm rushed through you, your fingers tugging onto his head harshly as you pushed your hips into his face, your orgasm sending shockwaves throughout your entire body as you cum on his tongue, moaning out in ecstasy, his name falling from your lips. he watched you the entire time, your eyes locking together in an intense gaze, moans falling from your lips. he couldn’t take his eyes off you. he couldn’t fucking believe this was happening after all this time.

he lapped up your juices as you allowed your orgasm to rush through you, your arousal coating his tongue as he moaned against your pussy. your heart beat rapidly in your chest, sweat glistening against your forehead. you look incredibly fucked out and hazed, your fingers lazily running through his messy locks. even in your post orgasm haze, he believed you were the most beautiful girl in the world. fucking magnificent. he used a tongue to lick your now overly sensitive clit to get one more taste before pulling away from your thighs. he used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth that was covered in your juices, a now shy smile appearing onto his lips as he stared up at you.

he got back onto his feet to stand before you, your legs now closed and you pull your shirt back down as you try to find the strength in them to jump off the counter, but your legs felt like jello. your eyes moved from his lips and back up into his eyes. you didn’t know what this meant moving forward, but you couldn’t fucking believe this happened.

“a fuckin dream come true. literally. thank you, sweet girl.” his own breathing was labored as he licked over his lips and stared at you with his cheeks reddened tremendously. he’s back to his usual shy self. “been wantin’ that for awhile.”

your chest heaved up and down, your head resting against the kitchen cabinet. your eyes move down to the evident hardened bulge in his pants, a wet spot forming against the fabric. he was incredibly turned on just from tasting you. you didn’t know if he wanted you to return the favor or not, but the sight of him completely hard for you was such a turn on.

he caught your eyes, moving his eyes down to his own hardened cock before back up into your eyes. he had come here because of this same problem, but this time he wouldn’t be leaving in complete agony. at least he finally got to taste you. he bent down to grab your damp lacy panties that were still on the ground and immediately places them in his pocket, flashing you a small smirk.

“enjoy your breakfast, sweetheart. i sure as hell enjoyed mine.”

taglist-

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @forgottxen @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @sturniololuv08 @xclusivedesires

a/n- thank you to @sturnshood for helping me with the idea! i wouldn’t of been able to write this without you. thank you thank you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me i love you!

thank you to everyone who’s read this au and has supported me! i want to continue it for as long as i can, so if you have any ideas, questions for me or just wanna talk in general please don’t hesitate to send a message in my inbox!

i love you guys! :)

-nessa ღ

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo au #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fic #perv!matt #innocent!reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo au #blushsturnsღ

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foreverisntenough · 2 days ago

Text

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend. You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy?

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 22 - 'I'm Sorry' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.1 k

You sat cross-legged on Trent’s bed, your phone resting limply in your hand as you watched your screen light up. Your phone rang with a call from Layla. Your thumb hovered over her name, hesitant to answer. It continued to vibrate as you built up your courage. You answered slowly, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you’d been on for days before her voice came through, soft and careful.

“Alright, babe?” she asked. Her tone alone made your chest tighten. You hesitated for a second, swallowing the lump in your throat before replying.

“Yeah… uh, actually a little better. I need to see you to explain.” Your voice was small, weak even, but there was a flicker of resolve in it.

“Okay. Better is good,” Layla said gently, but her concern was palpable. There was a brief pause before she continued, almost sheepishly. “Just wanted to see if you saw that invite come through.” You frowned, confused for a moment before remembering the notification you’d ignored earlier. The invite from Shelby—one of your mutual friends—to a Manchester United end-of-season party. You’d skimmed it, immediately feeling your stomach drop at the thought of Josh possibly being there. “I’ll do what you want,” Layla continued, sensing your hesitation. “I imagine all those lads are going. I don’t want you going, obviously…” She expressed but you cut her off, your voice sharper than intended, you didn’t want to ruin the beginning of her summer.

“Lay, you go. You and Shelbs will have fun. It’s just a big party. I just… I can’t be near—” You paused, your throat tightening at the thought of him. “Josh,” you finally said, his name burning your tongue. “I don’t know… I’m so scared of him, so please just be careful.” You cautioned her. Layla’s inhale was sharp. You could feel her anger brewing through the phone.

“God, I’m so sorry, babe. I fucking hate him. But seriously, do you want me to come be with you tonight? I’m worried. I’m here for you.” She offered sincerely. You closed your eyes, her offer tempting, but you knew what you needed. You needed to stay put.

“No, have fun. I… I…” You stuttered, trying to work up the courage to tell her your plans for the night. “I’m with T. I just need to be with him,” you admitted, your voice cracking as emotions began to resurface.

“Oh…” Layla paused, the shock evident in her tone. “So… you’re with him?” She asked curiously but not judgmentally.

“Yeah.” You sighed, tears stinging your eyes again. “We’re… Or I… I just need to talk to him. Lay, Josh threatened him with a video of us. Somehow he got a video of me and him. It’s a total fucking mess. He said he didn’t hook up with Jess. And I’m terrified, but I just feel safer with him. I can’t go anywhere. I wa- I need to be with him.” You whimpered embarrassed by your dependency on Trent. The ebb and flow of your trust in him was expectedly concerning to your best friend. Layla’s response was immediate, her voice laced with fury.

“Fucking hell. I’ll kill him.” She snapped imaging Josh’s smug look having a video like that in his possession. She paused when she heard your sharp inhale, realizing she needed to rein it in. “I’m sorry. I know. You are safe with Trent, Y/N. Be with him. He loves you.” She cooed. Her words offered some comfort, but you still felt unsteady and she could sense it. “Should I not…” she started, trailing off, you knew she’d not go tonight if you’d prefer that but it wasn’t what you wanted.

“No, no, no,” you interjected quickly. “Please, go. It’s not like it’s his party or something. He can’t control everyone.” Layla nodded even though you couldn’t see her, your words sinking in.

“Okay, but Josh can’t control you either, babe. We’ll handle this. Just be with Trent tonight. Someone who just wants to protect you.” Her voice softened as she reassured you.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Love you. You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime,” Layla said firmly, her support unwavering. When the call ended, the silence in Trent’s room felt deafening, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel entirely alone. Layla believed in you. Trent wanted to protect you. Maybe you could start believing in yourself again, too. The call ended, and you stared blankly at your phone, Layla’s words echoing in your mind: ‘You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime.’ The reassurance was meant to soothe you, but it only amplified the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. You set the phone down on the edge of your bed, your fingers trembling slightly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears creeping back into your eyes, but you closed them tightly, willing yourself to stay composed. It wasn’t working. You leaned forward, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop the flood, but the effort only made the sob that escaped your throat sharper. Everything felt like too much—Josh’s threats, the fear that he still had control, the relief and heartbreak of being with Trent again. It was all tangling inside of you like a knot you couldn’t undo. You got up and made your way to the en-suite of his room in an effort to try to compose yourself before Trent came up for bed.

The room felt heavy and silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It made the en-suite feel cold, sterile, like it was closing in around you. You sat on the edge of the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. Your reflection stared back at you, pale and tear-streaked, eyes rimmed red. You barely recognized yourself. But then you noticed the earrings. The tiny gold butterfly pinned on your left ear, and the delicate blue one in your right. They shimmered faintly under the bathroom’s light, and your chest tightened. The earrings had been a gift from Trent, a token of the promise you’d made to each other when your relationship had finally begun. He had chosen them because they reminded him of you—fragile yet strong, beautiful, unique. But also your relationship; this evolving thing. Now, though, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you might lose. Your trembling fingers brushed over the butterflies, your heart aching as memories of that morning came flooding back. The way Trent had looked at you when he gave them to you, his voice soft as he told you how much you meant to him. How special you were. You’d been so happy, so sure that he was your safe place in a world that had hurt you too many times. Now, you didn’t know what to believe. You gripped the butterflies tighter, as if they could ground you. For a moment, you thought about taking them out—ripping away the reminder of everything that had fallen apart. But you couldn’t. Something in you refused to let them go. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the way Trent had looked at you earlier in the greenhouse, his eyes full of love and regret, like he’d carry the weight of your pain if he could. Or maybe it was the act that you felt like you got a momentary reminder from your mum there that he was good. You let out a shaky breath and placed your hands on the counter, trying to steady yourself. Slowly, you reached for the tap, splashing cold water on your face. The coolness jolted you back to the present, and you let out a deep exhale, watching the water drip down your reflection. The earrings still caught the light. A tiny flicker of beauty in the midst of your heartbreak. You couldn’t let Josh take this from you. You couldn’t let him win. You grabbed a towel and patted your face dry before turning toward the door. Trent would be waiting for you. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way through this. One fragile step at a time.

That night, as you curled into Trent’s chest, his familiar warmth began to ease the chill that had settled into your bones. His arm was draped securely around you, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. The comfort of his touch usually calmed you, but tonight it wasn’t enough. Fear and worry churned in your chest, refusing to let you rest.

“Baby, I’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice small and trembling. The admission felt heavy, like you were unburdening yourself but also laying bare your vulnerability. Trent’s hand stilled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry I hurt you the other night. I never wanted to.” His apology tugged at your heart, but the knot of fear inside you refused to unravel.

“He’s going to release it, T,” you said, your words barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. “If he finds out about us, he’ll release it.” Trent’s entire body tensed beneath you. His arm around you tightened, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing within him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and brimming with anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that lad,” he growled, the words cutting through the quiet room like a blade. “I am fucking fuming. I will fucking kill him. He can’t hurt you. He can’t fucking touch you.” His grip on you grew firmer, not out of aggression but out of his overwhelming need to protect you. Yet, in that moment, the intensity of his voice and the pressure of his hold sent you spiraling. Memories of Josh resurfaced like an unrelenting tide—his hands gripping you too tightly, his voice sharp and cruel, his presence suffocating and inescapable. Your breath hitched, and tears began to spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless. Your chest heaved with silent sobs as your body trembled against Trent’s. “Ah, fuck,” Trent muttered, his voice breaking as he realized what was happening. He immediately loosened his hold, his hands moving to cup your face and pull you back slightly so he could see you. “Fuck, pretty girl. Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. C’mere. I got you. I got you.” He wrapped you back into his arms, but this time his touch was featherlight, as if he were afraid of breaking you further. He pressed kiss after kiss into your hair, murmuring apologies and reassurances as you sobbed against his chest. “It’s okay,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here.” His words started to sink in, soothing the jagged edges of your fear. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear grounded you, steadying your breathing and slowing your tears. “What he’s doing is fucking extortion,” Trent muttered after a moment, his tone calmer but still resolute. “He can’t blackmail us. I’m speaking with Ty first thing. We’ll handle it legally. No one is taking my baby away from me. No one. Not now. Promise.” His words carried a sincerity—a vow that he would protect you at all costs. You sniffled, your face still buried in his chest, and nodded weakly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Trent said, pulling back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks on your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You’re my whole world, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I swear it.” You blinked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes anchoring you. His touch, so gentle and steady, reminded you that despite everything, this was the man who loved you unconditionally.

“You promise?” you asked softly, your voice cracking.

“I promise,” Trent said firmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” You exhaled shakily and let yourself melt into his arms again, his embrace wrapping you in a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in days. Despite the chaos that awaited, in this moment, you knew you weren’t alone but you couldn’t fight back the tears. Josh had hurt you too deeply. You were battered and cruises and the cracks in your resilience were starting to show. You were breaking down.

You buried your face deeper into Trent’s chest, your tears soaking through his shirt as you clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His arms wrapped around you firmly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other traced gentle circles on your back. He didn’t speak much more at first, letting you cry. The weight of everything—Josh, the video, the fear, the shame, and even your own complicated feelings about Trent—poured out of you in waves. Each sob tore at his heart. Trent had never felt so helpless. He wanted to take all of it away: the pain, the fear, the scars left by people who should never have been close to you. But he knew he couldn’t. All he could do was hold you through it.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered after a long stretch of silence. Your voice was weak and strained, like the words were dragging out pieces of you as they left your mouth.

“Sorry? For what, baby?” Trent asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they fell, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“For… for being like this,” you whispered, ashamed. You couldn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the fabric of his shirt where your tears had left dark stains. “For being such a mess. For making things so hard.” You kept on trying to rationalize your apology, hoping maybe he'd understand.

“Y/N, stop, serious,” he said gently but firmly, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His eyes were glassy, the tears he’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever apologize for feeling. For hurting. For being human. You’re not a mess, pretty girl. You’re my girl. And I love you, okay? All of you. Every single bit.” The sincerity in his voice broke you all over again, and the tears started fresh. Trent pulled you back into his arms, rocking you slightly as he whispered reassurances. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself trust that someone could hold you through your brokenness, that you didn’t have to hide or pretend. But as the minutes stretched on, the weight of Josh’s threats crept back in, darkening the tiny flicker of hope Trent had sparked in you.

“Baby, no, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “What if Josh does something? I’m serious, what if he releases the video? It would ruin you, T. Your career, your reputation… everything. I don’t know if I could handle that. I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.” Trent’s body tensed beneath you again, and for a moment, you felt the anger radiating off him. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, deliberate.

“Listen to me,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye again. “I told you. I’m gonna speak with Ty, but besides that… I don’t care about a video. I don’t care about my career, or what people think, or any of that. None of it matters if it means losing you. You hear me? You’re all that matters, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” His words were like a lifeline, but they also scared you. The intensity of his love felt like a double-edged sword—comforting and terrifying all at once. You continued to cry into Trent’s chest. It felt like the fear of Josh ran deeper than his comforting embrace. But then you kissed his neck out of instinct. It was impulse. It was something you’d almost trained yourself to do. So many times you’d been upset in tear and had to put them aside for sex. You began kissing his neck. Trent’s body betrayed him. He felt all the blood rush down to his cock. You were turning him on but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you like this. Trent putting his hands on you felt terrifying. He felt like you were glass. He pulled away from you and your heart broke. It was like rejection all over again. Trent studied your face, his heart breaking as he saw the pain written in every inch of you.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to understand that.” His words made you freeze. His gaze wasn’t one of anger or frustration—it was pleading, desperate. He wasn’t trying to take anything from you; he was trying to stop you from giving away something you didn’t truly want to share in this moment. Your throat tightened, and a lump of shame built in your chest as the realization hit you. What you were doing wasn’t about love or desire—it was about survival, about falling back into a pattern Josh had ingrained in you. Sex had always been a way to pacify, to distract, to feel needed. Your hands had moved on instinct, exploring Trent as if you could erase the fear in your chest by drawing him closer. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through, baby,” Trent said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. His hands gently caught yours, stopping them in their tracks as he looked into your eyes. “Please. Don’t do this because you think you have to. Not with me.” Trent pleaded, begging you to follow your heart and not your hands exploring him. Your heart shattered. You wanted so badly to bridge the gap between you and him, to feel close to him again. But your mind and your body felt like they were living in two entirely different worlds.

“Please want me,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. Your voice cracked, the vulnerability in those three words raw and exposed. You hated how needy you sounded, but it was the truth. You wanted him to want you, to make you feel something other than the numbness that had taken hold of you. Trent’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. His love for you was at war with his fear of hurting you, but when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, he gave in. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it was what you needed. But as his hands brushed over your skin, the dense thud in your chest grew heavier. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. The love and warmth you always felt when you were with Trent were nowhere to be found. This wasn’t passion; it was a mechanical act, an autopilot response. You were setting him up to take the bait, and he was taking it because he thought it would make you feel better but it felt like he’d lost a game you didn’t want him to even play. Deep down, you both knew this wasn’t what either of you truly wanted. It hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. Trent was nothing like Josh but right now you were acting like he was.

Without another word, Trent had leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but as soon as you responded, something shifted. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn't bear the space between you. Your fingers tangled in his curls, gripping them as your body arched into his. The kiss deepened, no longer hesitant but filled with an urgency that neither of you could contain. It wasn't just desire-it was need. A desperate, unspoken plea to feel something other than the ache that had settled between you. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced your skin like he was memorizing every inch, every curve. You gasped softly against his lips, and he took the sound as encouragement, his touch growing firmer, more confident. The tension in the room didn't dissipate-it lingered, heavy and unresolved-but it was joined by a different kind of intensity. The sadness and fear were still there, woven into the fabric of your movements, but they were eclipsed by the desperate need to be closer. To lose yourselves in each other, even if just for a moment. The air grew thick, filled with the sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as Trent shifted to press you further into the mattress. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, across your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored your body with reverence.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and strained. "Tell me it's okay."

"I want this," you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. It was all he needed to hear. His lips were back on yours, hungrier this time, his body pressing into yours as if trying to merge you into one. Your hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper. The friction between you sent sparks through your veins, igniting something that had been smoldering for far too long. But even as things grew more heated, there was an undercurrent of something else. A sadness that neither of you could escape. This wasn't just about passion-it was about holding on. About finding some semblance of connection in the middle of the chaos. Trent continued kissing you, his lips moving with deliberate care as he shifted to hover over you, his large frame blanketing yours. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for reassurance even as his hand gently cupped your cheek. His touch was tender, as though you might bruise beneath the weight of his hands, and yet his need to be close to you was palpable. You didn't trust your voice, so you let your actions speak. Moving on instinct, you reached for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Left bare save for the soft fabric of your panties. "Please." You whispered. Your voice was shaky but filled with yearning. Leaning up, you kissed along his jawline, your lips traveling to the warm column of his neck, nuzzling into his skin before you began to suck gently. Trent froze for a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He took a deep breath, conflicted. He wanted to give you everything, but he also didn't want to push you or himself into something too fragile. Yet the way you clung to him, the way you pleaded, left him wondering if maybe this was how you both could heal. Slowly, tentatively, Trent removed his own clothes. His shirt came off, revealing the toned expanse of his chest, and soon the rest of your garments joined the pile on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was his hands, his lips, his touch that truly burned. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firm muscles under your fingertips, the rapid thrum of his heart. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging gently on the soft curls of his hair. He groaned softly at the sensation, his lips beginning their journey down your neck. He kissed your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake, before traveling lower. When his lips finally closed around your nipple, you let out a desperate moan, arching your back to meet him. The warmth of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his teeth, sent shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your other boob, his fingers playing, pulling, and pinching with just the right amount of pressure. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with emotion, but he didn't stop. He lavished attention on your sensitive skin, his kisses, touches, and the slight rasp of his stubble making you feel electric. You buried your hands in his hair, holding him to you, desperate to keep the connection alive. His hands slid down your sides, rough yet gentle as they traced every curve, as though memorizing every inch of you. When his lips left your chest to continue their descent, you shivered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, the way he worshipped you.

"You okay?" he murmured softly against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. You nodded, biting your lip as tears pricked the corners of your eyes-not from pain but from the sheer vulnerability of it all.

"Just... don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I've got you," Trent promised, his voice husky, filled with an emotion that made your heart clench. "I've got you, baby. Tell me you want this.” Trent mumbled against your skin. You nodded with a whine as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly begging for him to come inside. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock leaking precum against your sopping wet folds. You shouldn’t have been turned on. In a way this was exactly the way Josh had trained you. Your heart aching, sadness engulfing you, and yet your body acting completely normal, inviting him in with vigor. You shifted beneath him to pick your hips up allowing him to guide himself inside with more ease. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible until he bottomed out. You gripped the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself at the stretch. The feeling was enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than how he was making you feel. As wrong as it was, you both craved this. He kissed down your neck as he pulled out slightly before easing back in slower, fully burying himself one more. “I love you so much.” He whispered. Trent rested his forehead against yours but you couldn’t look at him. You felt like you were going to cry so you kept your eyes shut. Your head tipped back onto the pillow with one hand squeezing your own nipple as Trent kept his strokes steady. You tipped your head back further as his pace became more relentless. Your jaw slack, eyes closed tight.

“I love you.” You whimpered with a sniffle as a tear rolled down your cheek. Trent swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He cupped your cheek wiping away the tear.

“I’m here. Right here.” He murmured. He knew you didn't want to stop. You would’ve been more upset if he did. So you continued on. There was no other noise in the room but the sound of heartbreak and your slickness as he fucked his cock slowly and gently into you. Your legs stayed wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back, making sure he didn’t pull out but your tears continued falling, your body shaking a little. If anyone else did this he would be confused and probably turned off but he understood you, he understood the lustful desire and unfortunately the aching pain in your chest that he was feeling too. He leaned over you, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest pressed against him as he continued to fucked you gently. Your pussy dripped around him. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher.

“T... I’m… I’m going to cum” You mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name sounding so weak from your softly parted lips. He groaned, feeling himself barreling close to his own release though from the way you were squeezing his cock now. Your body succumbing to pure euphoria and seeing white. He bit down onto your shoulder, his pace growing sloppy.

“Cum for me baby. Doing so good for me.” he cooed, nipping at your collarbone. You whined and felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. Your pussy quivered around him. Every little shift was orgasmic. You couldn’t hold in the soft whiny cry you let out. Your lips parted, biting the skin of his neck. Your pussy was sopping wet now, the slow and intense movements had you gushing all over him. The sex was so tender and sweet yet equally sad. “Gonna cum, yeah? That okay?” He asked you through a strained voice as you held onto him. You could only nod again, tears reappearing, toes curled before everything went white, falling apart. Despite the emotional turmoil, he felt so good and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His thrusts began to slow as he buried himself deeper inside you. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. Stilling as his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands rubbed your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way. He kissed you everywhere he could. You just stayed tight to him refusing to break away. “You alright, baby?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and full of concern as he hovered over you. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, his thumb catching a stray tear. His dark eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your cheeks were flushed, your lips trembling, and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if holding back a flood. You nodded quickly, unable to trust yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, and you knew that if you tried to answer him, your voice would crack, betraying just how fragile you felt in this moment. The weight of everything—of your past, your pain, and the overwhelming tenderness of the man above you—pressed against your chest. Trent’s brow furrowed, his concern deepening as he leaned closer. “Baby,” he urged gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, your fingers curling around his wrist as his hand remained on your cheek. It was your silent plea to stay close, to not pull away. “I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his own emotions. His thumb continued to stroke your cheek, grounding you. “I’ve got you, yeah? Always.” Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears slipping from your closed eyes. You hated feeling this vulnerable, hated that you couldn’t hide the rawness inside you, but Trent’s presence made it bearable. His love wrapped around you like a shield, softening the sharp edges of your fear and sadness. Finally, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression was so full of love and patience that it broke something inside you.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice barely audible but nonetheless broken. Trent stayed on top of you, his weight grounding you even as the guilt began to creep in. His breathing was still heavy, matching yours, and his curls tickled your skin as he rested his face between your boobs, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin. The room was quiet save for the sound of your heartbeats slowing, the intensity of the moment dissipating into an uncomfortable stillness. Neither of you spoke any more after your vacant apology. There were no words for the complicated knot of emotions tightening in your chest. For a while, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair, but even that small gesture felt hollow. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't resolution. Eventually, Trent stirred, his lips brushing against your collarbone in a fleeting touch. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name-sadness, maybe, or regret. Without a word, he shifted, carefully pulling out of you, his body leaving yours cold in the absence of his warmth. The air completely sucked out of the room. He rolled off of you and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything hung heavy in the room, pressing down on both of you, suffocating in its intensity. The physical high you'd just shared only amplified the emotional low settling between you. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his profile-the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

"T," you whispered, your voice soft but strained. He didn't respond right away. His hand came up to rub over his face, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"I'm so sorry." He murmured into the empty silence of the dark room.

"For what?" you asked, your own guilt weighing heavily on you.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely between you but he didn’t turn his head towards you, his gaze stayed fixated on the ceiling. "For not stopping. For letting it happen when I knew... when I knew it wasn't what you needed right now." He sheepishly told you. Your heart ached at his words because they felt true, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to regret it fully. He was not Josh, he didn’t want what just happened. Not like that. It felt wrong. Josh relished in using you for sex to rectify problems, to act like he cared, but all you did was just create a new one with Trent. He was hurting.

"I asked for it, T. I wanted it." You earnestly told him. That was true. You did want it, but why and what for, was a glaringly obvious reg flag. A remnant of Josh’s disgusting conditioning. The only way he could possibly love you was if you fucked hin, and so you did the same with Trent. It was fucked up. You watched him blink a few times, his perfectly curled dark eyelashes batting away what you prayed wasn’t the build up of tears. Even though he wouldn’t turn to look at you, you could still perfectly make out that his eyes were filled with turmoil.

"But did you need it? Did it help, or did it just... make things worse?" He asked you pleadingly. He knew you wanted to have sex with him. It wasn’t about the consent of the act but rather the consciousness of it. The question hung in the air, and you didn't have an answer. You both laid there with the other, the silence between you louder than any words could be. Neither of you could shake the feeling that you'd both taken a step further away from the connection you were trying so hard to hold onto. The room fell silent for a long while after that. Trent lay motionless, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his mind raced. The dim light cast shadows on the ceiling, but his eyes were unable to focus. He couldn’t wrap his head around the blur between the physical sensations still humming through his body and the weight of the emotional aftermath sinking into his heart. He couldn't reconcile it-how his body could feel one thing, while his heart ached with the opposite. His arms rested limply at his sides, too heavy to move. The thin sheen of sweat cooling on his skin only made him feel exposed, raw. Tears welled in your eyes, and you turned your head away momentarily, unable to look at him anymore. You felt defeated, ashamed, and more alone than ever-even with him right next to you.

"T.." Your voice broke through the thick silence once over, soft but trembling. He hummed in response, his throat dry. But he didn't turn his head to look at you still. He couldn't not yet. Guilt clawed at his chest, despite everything. You asked for this yet it felt cold. You wanted it. He hadn't forced you-but why did it feel like he'd done something wrong? "Did you love her?" you whispered, your voice so small it almost disappeared into the air between you. The question hit him like a blow. He blinked, the ceiling above him suddenly too sharp, too vivid. He exhaled sharply but still didn't meet your gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he was overwhelmed-confused, emotional, and drowning in a wave of guilt and frustration. You couldn't stop yourself. You stared at him, inspecting every detail of his face. The way his bottom lip hung slightly gaped from the top, the tense line of his jaw, the crease in his brow. He laid there feeling hollow despite his best efforts to help. You needed to understand him, to break past the wall he seemed to be building in this silence. The insecurity was clawing at your insides, threatening to consume you. Your past haunted you and right now it was seeping into your present. The way Josh had rewired you to think all men were, had you fearing Jess. She was the ghost in the room you couldn't escape. All you could think about was her-her presence in Trent's life before you, the ways she might have had touched him, been with him, loved him. You hated it. Your thoughts spiraled into a desperate need to prove yourself to him, to make him see why you were different. Why you were better. You'd done everything-fought for him, forgiven him, fucked him, even begged him. You wanted to show him that you would do anything for him. But now, as you lay beside him, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. The act that was supposed to bring you closer had only widened the gap, leaving both of you in the cold. This was new to you because this time, the man next to you in bed truly cared. Finally, Trent turned his head to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, a storm of emotions swirling in them-confusion, sorrow, regret.

“Never.” Trent finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the only other sound were the sheets shifting beneath you pillowing his words. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, really look at him. Trent’s hand stilled on your cheek as your words lingered in the air, cutting through the fragile peace between you. His chest rose sharply with a deep, steadying breath, but the storm brewing behind his soft brown eyes betrayed him. “Not even close,” he repeated, his voice firm but strained, as if clinging desperately to the truth of his feelings. His thumb brushed against your skin, grounding himself in the contact, but you could feel the tension in his hold—the way he was barely keeping it together. “Look at me,” he whispered, tilting your face gently so your eyes met his. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to retreat further, even though every instinct told you to. You wanted to hide, to shield yourself from how raw, how real this moment was becoming. But in a moment of vulnerability… you felt yourself pull away from him. You knew Trent was different. This was different. You couldn’t fix things or gain anything by using sex as a bandaid like you did with Josh, not when real feelings were at play and so the only thing you could do was set it on fire in an effort to protect yourself.

“Did you ever think that maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together?” you asked, the words falling from your lips without forethought, sayinging something you didn’t even think about. It wasn’t what you wanted to say. It wasn’t what you felt deep down. But it was easier to let those words fill the space than to confront the fear twisting inside you. Trent flinched as if you’d struck him. His blood going ice cold. He didn’t know how to convince you this was right when in the moment you were making it feel so very wrong. You were hurting but now so was he. Trent really thought when he just turned to look at you things would be better, not worse. It was quiet. The silence of the room was deafening. His hand faltered for a moment before settling back on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant.

“Why would you say that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the heavy stillness in the room. You swallowed hard, your throat burning with unshed tears. His jaw tightened and he shut his eyes and you watched his eyelashes lay on his cheek for a moment longer than comfortable, shielding himself from the hurt; as if he was bracing for impact and so you took the final blow.

“You said you didn’t want to take advantage…” you whispered, your voice cracking. It wasn’t what you meant, not really, but you knew the weight of those words would land, and you hated yourself for using them. You didn’t mean it but you knew what you were doing. You didn’t know why you were doing it but it was happening nevertheless. You were letting this relationship go up in flames with an ease you loathed. An ease Josh made you have and now you were letting the flames engulf Trent with you. Trent’s eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with disbelief. He searched your face as if trying to find some hint that you didn’t mean it, that this was all a misunderstanding. The weight of the night settled heavily between you. It was unbearable, suffocating, like the air had been vacuumed out of the room. You both laid completely still. You felt like you were tearing down the house you’d built together—stripping it bare, brick by brick, without even meaning to. Ripping the walls out, slashing the pipes and yet only his silence and heartbeat made a sound. There was no shouting, no anger, no big crash. Just the quiet dismantling of something fragile, something that felt too precious to lose but too painful to hold onto in the moment. His silence pierced through you, and yet, it wasn’t cold—it was sorrowful, the kind of quiet that spoke volumes about his own inner turmoil. Trent's hand, which had dropped to rest on your arm, tightened slightly on your arm, his heart aching at the sound of your pain.

“If you feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Trent finally whispered, his voice raw and achingly soft, “if you feel like I’m in control of this in a way that you’re not… we can’t do this. I won’t.” His hand on you withdrew slowly. It wasn’t harsh, but it left a hollow ache in its absence, as though he were pulling back to keep from causing more damage. There it was. The white flag you indirectly and subconsciously pushed him to raise. He was defeated. He couldn’t win. He felt powerless. He felt so awkward. Like if he touched you again it would change your perspective but if he didn’t it would do just the same. You had dismantled something so quietly, so swiftly. He exhaled deeply, his breath shaky, like he was trying to keep himself from crumbling entirely. It felt like there were worlds between you to now, when in reality it was mere inches but as the night engulfed the room, Trent moved from facing you onto his back creating a distance that felt like something you may never be able to close. Trent’s words hung in the air like the faint echo of a storm, their quiet weight pressing down on you as he pulled away. The warmth of his hand left your skin, replaced by an emptiness that seemed to seep into the space between you. His quiet resolve settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. You had spent so long trying to survive, to appease, to navigate a world where love meant control and touch often felt like an obligation. And yet, here he was—letting you go, even if it broke him. Trent’s restraint wasn’t rejection; it was love. It was understanding. But it hurt all the same.

“I’ve only ever been in love once… I’ll only ever be in love once. And that’s with you.” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His voice cracked slightly, and the sound shattered you. Your heart clenched painfully at his confession. The vulnerability in his words was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You stared at his profile, the way his lashes rested against his cheek when he blinked, the tension in his jaw as he tried to steady himself. “Just… take your time,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost inaudible. And then, with the finality of someone who had resigned themselves to the pain, he rolled over, his head resting on his pillow. You watched him, the way he clutched the pillow beneath his head as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His back was to you now, and it felt like a wall you couldn’t scale, no matter how much you wanted to reach for him. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered again, so softly you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as the night overtook the room. Trent wasn’t like Josh. He wasn’t trying to control you or force you into anything. But in that moment, the weight of your past, the weight of your fears, was too much for either of you to carry alone. And as he lay there, quiet and still, you realized just how much you had both been hurt in ways neither of you fully knew how to heal. You watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath, steady but strained. It wasn’t just awkwardness you felt—it was guilt, raw and biting, clawing at your chest. You wanted to speak, to reassure him, to take back the words you didn’t even mean, but your throat felt like it had closed up.in an effort to save yourself you had somehow managed to cut off the only thing that was keeping you alive. Trent had let you go, the chasm in the bed now was too much to breach. The silence between you was deafening, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the night filtering in through the window. It was strange how a room could feel so full of unspoken emotions yet so achingly empty at the same time.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room that felt at odds with the tension between you. The quiet was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that held so much unsaid. Despite the turmoil of the night before, your bodies had instinctively found each other, seeking comfort in a way words couldn’t offer. You’d spent hours wrapped around one another, as if letting go would mean accepting what neither of you wanted to face. Trent’s arms had stayed around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you even as your mind raced. The morning finally had arrived, it felt like an unspoken truce, a shared understanding that this moment, however fleeting, couldn’t last. You stayed in bed longer than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on both of you. Trent’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, and neither of you spoke, afraid to shatter the fragile peace. When you finally sat up, the loss of his touch was immediate and jarring.

Getting dressed felt mechanical. Each movement slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the inevitable goodbye. By the time you made your way downstairs, the air between you had shifted. You could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. At the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle. Your throat was tight, the words you wanted to say lodged somewhere deep inside.

“T…” you whispered, your voice trembling. He was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on a spot just beyond you. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear you—he was trying to hold himself together, to keep from begging you to stay, from saying something that might push you further away. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with emotion.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For… for last night.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It was all you could say. What had transpired last night couldn’t be encapsulated in a sentence or two. Your feelings for him, the hurt you felt would fill volumes and so you settled for a thank you. Trent shifted, his body tensing as if he was fighting every instinct to close the space between you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just… I just want you to be okay.” You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“I don’t know what okay looks like right now,” you admitted, your voice breaking. He took a cautious step towards you.

“I know, pretty girl,” he replied, his words careful, measured. The pet name hurt. He sympathetically smiled at you but it was insincere. His heart was in pieces, shattered on the floor right next to yours. “But you know I’m here, right? No matter what… I’m here.” His words broke something in you, and you glanced back at him, finally meeting his eyes. He was being mature and understanding and it hurt. The depth of his care, his pain, and his love was laid bare, and it was almost too much to bear.

“I know,” you whispered, tears welled up in your eyes, ready to spill over. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be loved like this. I’m just so sorry I’m hard to love,” you confessed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know how to feel safe and not push you away when I do.” You whimpered as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Trent’s jaw tightened, his heart breaking as he watched you crumble in front of him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling you into him. His arms enveloped you, one circling your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. You pressed your face into his chest, your tears dampening his shirt but he didn’t care, not one bit. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer every ounce of his love and reassurance.

“You are the easiest girl to love, pretty girl. And I will love you in whatever way and any way you need me to love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. His grip tightened slightly, as though he was memorizing the feel of you in his arms, just in case it would be the last time. “Forever, it’s you,” he murmured, his words so soft they were almost lost in the quiet of the room. “Just please know that will never change, no matter what you decide you want.” Your breath hitched and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed by his words, by the way he loved you so unconditionally.

“I love you,” you whimpered, the words breaking as they left your lips. He closed his eyes, his own tears threatening to fall as he held you.

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispered back, rocking you gently as you cried. “And that’s enough for me.”

The house was alive with chaos—a sea of bodies swaying to deafening music, flashing lights bouncing off the walls in a kaleidoscope of color. Conversations were drowned out by the thrum of bass, laughter spilling over in waves as the party hit its peak. Layla stood in the center of it all, a drink in hand, but her focus was fractured. Her chest felt tight, as if a weight pressed against it, the absence of you palpable. You weren’t here, and while you’d told her to have fun, it didn’t feel right. Still, she pushed through. You needed her to, even if she didn’t fully understand why. Fifteen songs later and five drinks deeper, Layla felt the alcohol warm her insides, dulling some of her guilt but sharpening her resolve. She scanned the room, her sharp eyes skipping over familiar faces until they landed on Devon, standing by the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, smirking as he caught her gaze. Josh wasn’t here yet—or at least, she hadn’t spotted him—but Devon would have to do. He was Josh’s friend, and as much as Layla disliked him by association, he was her best shot at getting answers. He was handsome, she was hot, they’d met a few times before and maybe there might’ve been some chemistry there but really there was only one reason driving Layla that night. She didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use him.

Their banter had started easily enough, a few playful comments traded back and forth. Devon leaned in close, his lips hovering near her ear as if he had to compete with the music, but Layla knew it was more than that. He was testing the waters, his hand brushing hers just lightly enough to be suggestive.

“I think we’re crossing enemy lines here,” he teased, his voice low and full of charm. Layla smirked, meeting his gaze with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel.

“I’ll cross any line you want,” she whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against his cheek. “But let me borrow your phone first. I just need to text my friend before we leave.” Devon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the bait was too tempting to resist. He handed over his phone without hesitation, his smirk deepening.

“Make it quick, yeah?” he said, his tone dripping with suggestion. Layla turned on her heel, spinning away with a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. Devon’s gaze stayed glued to her as she made her way toward the hallway, phone in hand, pretending to type. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, but as soon as she rounded the corner, her facade dropped. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating his phone with practiced ease. She scrolled through messages, DMs, and photos, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for anything—any hint, any clue that could tie Devon or Josh to what had happened to you. She dug deeper and deeper, her frustration mounting as nothing turned up. She huffed, leaning against the wall. The blue light of the phone screen illuminated her features in the dark hallway, casting shadows under her eyes that betrayed her exhaustion. Layla was starting to second-guess her plan as the party raged around her. The house felt suffocating, the music thundering through her chest as if it was synced to her racing heartbeat. Layla was so invested in her hunt she barely noticed Devon coming to lean lazily against the wall beside her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her hold his phone.

“You find what you’re looking for, or are you just trying to steal my playlist?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. Layla forced a playful laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder to buy herself a moment. Her fingers worked quickly, scrolling out of his apps and messages, trying to stay one step ahead of Devon’s curiosity.

“I’m just making sure you’re not boring,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a slight edge of distraction. Devon raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Trust me, babe, I’m anything but boring.” He cooed. Layla ignored his cocky response. Devon noticed her change in demeanor, his smirk fading as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “You alright?” he asked, his tone shifting slightly to one of genuine concern. Layla forced a smile again and handed his back to him as casually as she could.

“Just had to make sure my girls know I’m with you. Don’t want them thinking I’ve disappeared.” She cooed, turning into him. Devon grinned, clearly pleased with her response.

“Disappeared, huh? I’ll make sure you stay right where I can see you.” He leaned into her pinching at her waist. She giggled swatting at his hand with a sloppy smile. Maybe it was the alcohol, but a part of her kind of wanted to actually go home with Devon. She didn’t find anything incriminating, he was sort of sweet and definitely handsome. Her mind was racing though, the threads were unraveling, but the knot at the center was still tied too tightly. She needed to find out more. She was committed for you… and maybe there was a little bit in it for her now. So she played along, laughing at Devon’s jokes and letting him guide her through the crowded house. Her focus drifting from being laser-sharp, every glance, every word a calculated move with intent to something a bit looser. She’d come here for answers, and she knew Devon had to know something so maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn’t hurt.

The soft hum of Devon’s snores filled the dimly lit bedroom. Layla sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him, and slipped his phone from the bedside table. Her pulse quickened as she padded to the en-suite bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she shut it behind her. She pressed her back to the wall and sank to the floor with a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone. Devon had been easy to charm, he actually wasn’t so bad, nice in fact, but what she held in her hand right now would tell her the harsh reality, what he really knew.

The room was dark, the blue light burning her eyes as she scrolled in Devon’s phone, sat on the floor. Scrolling through his messages again Layla’s breath became unsteady, uneven. Her pulse quickened as she skimmed through group chats and threads. Still, there was nothing that immediately jumped out as damning. She finally decided to go back to Devon’s messages with Josh, her hands trembling slightly. The messages were cryptic as she delved deeper. It felt like she was missing something, a part of their puzzle, so she continued to scroll. She almost didn’t want to find more context, even the thought made her stomach churn but she had to do this. Her grip tightened on the phone as she scrolled faster, reading more and more messages. Her eyes darted over the screen, piecing together fragments of a conversation.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. But just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye—an attachment buried deep in their thread of texts. Layla’s vision blurred with anger and panic. She shut her eyes tight. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. There it was: a screenshot of an Instagram DM from Jess to Josh, and then, her stomach dropped—the video attached. The video of you. You, on your knees for Trent, vulnerable in a way that made Layla’s blood run cold. She felt sick. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped her lips as tears stung her eyes. The room felt heavier than the silence that followed. Layla sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the dim blue light of the phone casting ghostly shadows on her face. She couldn’t stop trembling. The weight of what she’d seen, and what it meant, pressed down on her like a tidal wave.

“You really are interested in my phone, huh? Find anything good?” Devon’s tired voice shattered the silence, making her jump. Layla turned, looking up at him, fumbling the phone as she tried to recover.

“Fuck… I was just—” She stumbled out words. Devon leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was far too calm for her liking. He had a sleepy smile that was handsome but it couldn’t mask what was on his phone.

“You find that screenshot of the video Jess sent?” he asked, his tone softer than she expected. He smirked but not smugly. He smirked in a way that was sympathetic. His eyebrows raised as if he himself couldn’t even believe he had seen what she sent. He assumed that's what she was looking for. It was really the only thing that tied him and Layla together. The only reason they knew one another. Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise though that he knew it existed at all and still had the audacity to try to be with her.

“So Jess actually sent that... and you've seen it?” Layla asked again, her voice cracking. She needed him to confirm it—needed him to say it out loud so it felt real. Devon sighed, running a hand over his hair, his expression torn between guilt and discomfort. He shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit beside her.

“I haven't seen it, no. But. yeah… she sent it to Josh. I don’t know why. Guess she wanted to stir shit up.” He cooed gently looking only at Layla, not his phone that she currently was planning on holding ransom until she got answers. Layla glared at him, her chest heaving with frustration.

“You’re lying.” Her voice wavered, sharp and accusing.

“Look, baby, I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m keeping my hands clean. I don’t want any part of it.” Devon tried to explain his arm reaching out towards her knee but Layla winced at the pet name. Her eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over.

“Well, you are playing a part, Devon. You know Josh has that video—of Y/N and Trent, two people in a relationship, in love—and he’s using it to blackmail them. That makes you complicit.” She harshly bit back. He paused for a moment. He didn’t know you and Trent were a couple, let alone in love. He saw you at dinner once, but people go on dates all the time. The only things he heard were from Josh’s perspective. And in his opinion you weren’t allowed to be with Trent. In fact, you wanted Josh instead.

“I didn’t know they were properly together,” Devon muttered, his voice quieter now, guilt flashing across his face.

“They shouldn’t have to be,” Layla snapped, shoving the phone back into his hands. Her tears were threatening to spill over now, her emotions a tangled mess of fury and heartbreak. “And they fucking can’t be if he has this. This is fucked up, Devon. You’re letting him ruin someone’s life, and you just sit back like it’s nothing? I don’t understand how you can be okay with that.” She whimpered. Devon winced, the weight of her words visibly sinking in. He leaned back against the cold wall, his hands rubbing his face.

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You’re right,” he whispered finally. Layla sniffled trying to keep herself together. She was aching for you. “I should’ve done something, stopped it. I just… I didn’t want to get involved. It’s Josh, you know? I mean yeah, I see him a lot, were on the same squad but I try not to fuck with him too much.” Devon weakly tried to explain. Layla’s tears started to spill, her voice growing more impassioned.

“She’s my best friend, Devon! Do you even understand what this is doing to her? He’s blackmailing her. That video—it’s not just some stupid gossip. It could ruin everything for them… For Trent. And you’re just sitting here pretending like you’re not part of it? Like imagine if someone had a video of you and sent it to the fucking media… Because that's what he's doing. People's private relationship being broadcasted publicly and used to hurt them. Imagine what they feel right now that people like you even have fucking screenshots of this.” Layla yelped with a little more force. Devon sat still, the seriousness of her words bearing down on him.

“I… I didn’t know it was like that. I didn’t think about it that way,” he said softly. Layla’s comment had landed. Devon felt stupid. He didn’t really know nor care for Trent, they played for rival clubs too after all, but the sentiment still stood. He understood this wasn't the little tiff he dubbed it to be before. He realized what Josh was threatening Trent with. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, some drama between exes that didn’t involve me. I didn’t… I didn’t think of how damaging it could be.” Devon spoke earnestly.

“It is,” Layla shot back, wiping her tears angrily. “And if you care at all…” She shook her head and took a deep breath attempting to compose herself. “You know, maybe about me.” She said unexpectedly to even herself. Maybe she had developed more feelings for Devon then she realized or maybe she was using it as leverage- she couldn't decide but she didn’t care, that wasn't the focus right now. You were. “Or just being a fucking good person and do the right thing, you need to help me fix this.” She pleaded. Devon looked at her, his liable gaze meeting her hurt one. For a moment, it was just the two of them illuminated only by the dim phone screen, the air between them thick with tension. “Devon, you know he hurt her right?” she looked at him curiously. Devon’s eyes narrowed. He looked confused and a part of Layla prayed it was honest innocence. She hoped maybe Devon wasn’t bad. That this was an indiscretion and he was nothing like Josh. If he knew, she could never forgive him. In fact, she’d kill him. “He abused her. The way he spoke to her… Fuck! The texts I’d see that he’d send her. She’d have cuts and bruises all the time… Did you know that?” Layla weakly asked him as tears coursed down her cheeks.

“No.” Devon responded flatly. He swallowed feeling sick. He didn’t know any of that. He shut his eyes for a moment and then cleared his throat. “He can’t do that. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do? What can I do, Layla?” He asked finally, his voice resigned but sincere. Layla straightened, her jaw tight as she wiped the last of her tears.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 23 xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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stellamarielu · 1 day ago

Text

mr. o'hara

declan o'hara x female reader

summary: in an attempt to play wing woman for your best friend, you end up with the job of distracting her father. your inability to lie and the sexual tension between you has your mouth getting into trouble in more ways than one.

content: nsfw, 18+, best friend's dad smut, mutual pining, age gap, dirty talk, blowjob, praise, thigh riding, fingering, unprotected sex, did i mention dirty talk?

author's note: nothing but 6k words of mutual pining, flirting, sexual tension and smut! I think best friend's dad!declan might just be my favorite thing to write. like taggie girl I am so sorry but I need to fuck your dad.

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The night was coming to an end as you joined Taggie in the kitchen. You were helping her clean the massive pile of dishes that had accumulated from an evening of dinner and drinks with the venturer employees.

Declan had somehow ended up hosting the dinner party for his company, filling the priory with music, laughter and loads of alcohol. The celebration of their newfound success was almost completely organized by his eldest daughter.

You insisted on helping Taggie with arranging the event because you knew without Maud, Declan was sure to throw a sad excuse of a party. He was thankful for the two of you and your incessant need to meddle in his life after his wife left. In this case, it meant he wouldn’t have to plan a dinner menu or worry about a guest list, and for that, he was eternally grateful.

“Thank you again, I really couldn’t have done it without you.” Taggie was pulling you into her side as you worked next to her, scrubbing a plate in the sink.

“Oh whatever, I barely did anything. I’m only here for the free food.” You joked, returning her embrace.

The two of you were interrupted by a deep sultry voice gushing from the doorway of the kitchen.

“That’s the only reason I show up to these things as well.”

You didn’t even need to look over your shoulder to know who the voice belonged to.

Rupert Campbell-Black was behind you. Clad in a perfectly fitted black suit and a white button up that was undone just enough to see the smallest bit of chest hair peeking out from underneath. he stood with that signature smirk he always wore plastered on his face.

You could feel Taggie buzzing beside you.

It was endearing how utterly obsessed with each other they were.

You were the only person who knew about their secret romance, and you had to admit it made even you feel like a hopeless romantic. It was nearly impossible not to root for them.

“I thought maybe you could walk me home.” His voice was tender as he took a number of steps forward, one of his hands landing on Taggie’s hip.

“Have you gone insane? Daddy would lose his mind if he found out I just waltzed out of here with you.” Her voice was filled with concern as she swatted his touch from her body.

“Taggie, c’mon. Are we really supposed to follow your dad’s orders for the rest of eternity? Live a little. I’ll deal with ‘daddy’ tomorrow.”

You could see Rupert’s silk voice enveloping Taggie and tempting her deeper into the British man’s desires, but it wasn’t enough.

You knew her well, and a look of worry was still written on her features. She wouldn’t take what she wanted if it meant going against her father’s wishes.

“I’ll keep him distracted.” You spoke up causing both Rupert and Taggie to look to you in surprise.

The truth is you felt bad for them.

Having to tiptoe around Declan all the time had to be exhausting. Not to mention Taggie recently confided in you about her lack of a sex life. Her and Rupert had barely done more than some kissing and heavy petting due to the impossible challenge of getting somewhere alone together.

She longed for him, to know what it felt like to be touched by him. She was your best friend, and you owed it to her to be their wing woman.

“I mean he’s had a few glasses of whiskey, two or three more and I can just sit him in front of the tv. he’ll probably just knock out.” You give the pair a reassuring smile as you divulge your plan to keep the nosey irishman out of their way.

“Are you sure? I-“ Taggie begins before you interrupt her.

“Yes, now go. Sneak out the back.” You’re practically pushing them out of the kitchen catching the apologetic smile Taggie throws your way.

You hear the faint shut of the back door and you allow your body to linger in the kitchen.

standing alone for a few seconds, you soak in the calm. The home is nearly empty. It’s quiet, the only sound is the subtle murmur of music coming from the living room.

You were alone in the house with Declan.

Declan O’Hara; Taggie’s dad and part-time owner of a thriving televison station. Declan O’Hara; a powerful, somewhat mysterious man, that drew your attention more often than you would have liked to admit.

He was so mesmerizing, everything about him intrigued you. Your hidden fascination with him had been impossible to deny from the moment you met him, and it had become quite the guilty pleasure.

You planned to take your little crush on your best friend’s dad to the grave with you, never telling a soul and trying to remain as nonchalant around him as possible. It was always doable– pretending you felt nothing for him. Until his wife left a few months ago.

Ever since then your obsession with him had been kicked into full gear.

He was just so obviously available; it was almost as if you felt the need to fill his loneliness deep within your bones. Seeing how he poured into work to distract himself from solitude or when he would sleep on the couch to avoid the bedroom he once shared with his ex-wife. It was heartbreaking, and a little bit tempting if you were being honest. You wanted to help him and comfort him and maybe even fuck the loneliness right out of him.

You had assured Taggie that you could distract her father, but truthfully you had no idea what your plan was.

It couldn’t be that hard right? Feed him some more alcohol and get him talking about Yeats, you could do this.

You mustered up all the courage you could manage and began your journey into the living room.

Declan was picking up after the guests that had now long departed. Gathering empty glasses and straightening throw pillows. The radio on the mantle was playing a Fleetwood mac song that he could barely recognize yet still found himself humming along to.

In his quiet tidying his silent singing was joined with another, this hum was several octaves higher than his own and so much sweeter.

He turned to find you strolling through the entryway, humming along to the radio and finding a seat on the couch in the middle of the room.

Declan had to fight with himself to keep from looking at your backside as you walked past him. Your dress hugged your figure perfectly, a body he had memorized over months of watching you frolic through his house in short skirts and skintight t-shirts.

You had become quite the temptress in Declan’s mind.

He had always thought you were a beautiful young woman, but you were Taggie’s friend and nothing more. You were polite, easy to talk to, fun to have around– he was never one to mind your presence at family meals or special occasions. In fact he quite enjoyed when his daughter brought you around, he had always felt like you helped brighten their otherwise dim home with your lively personality.

He was entertained by you– amused. However soon after Maud left; casting him aside for a new life in London, his feelings for you shifted to something a little less harmless.

It started when he saw you sunbathing in his front yard.

You were joined by his two daughters, but he didn’t even notice. all he could do was gawk at the image of you sprawled out on a bright red pool towel in nothing but a skimpy bikini.

He had to peel his eyes from your body, reminding himself that you were only a few years older than his eldest daughter, young enough to be one of his children. Before he could rip his gaze from your bare skin, your eyes met his.

“Mr. O’Hara!” you were sat up waving in his direction, your chest bouncing ever so slightly with the movement and of course his eyes caught it.

He cursed himself at the strain in his jeans that only tightened upon hearing you call him that. Mr. O’Hara, it made you sound so innocent– so good-natured. The opposite of how Declan viewed you in that very moment, nearly naked on his front lawn.

“Wanna join us? They say Vitamin D is good for your mental health. You know, boosting your mood and all that.” You were half yelling to ensure that he could hear you, a broad grin on your face.

Declan had never realized how cute your smile was.

“I think I’ll have to pass on the invitation today.” He kept his voice pleasant and warm, speaking to you like he would his own children.

“If you girls need me, I’ll be inside.”

And with that Declan rushed to the kitchen to fix himself a glass of brandy, hoping to chase away the image of him pulling the tiny swimsuit off your body and fucking you into that cute little pool towel.

“I didn’t picture you as a Fleetwood Mac fan Mr. O’Hara.” Your voice was sugary and playful in his ears, bringing him back to the present where you were sat on his living room couch.

“British rock band with a dicey love triangle, what’s not to like?” His own deep voice was now matching the playful tone in yours.

“And I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Declan.” He continued cleaning up the room, trying his best to act as if he wasn’t phased by your presence.

“Did you abandon my daughter in the kitchen to come have a chat with me about Stevie Nicks?” He was joking with you, but the question about Taggie made you nervous.

You had never been a good liar.

“No we uh, finished the dishes. I just wanted to come see if you needed help with anything.” You were trying to keep your composure and act as natural as possible.

You were not doing a good job. Not one bit.

Maybe it was the tone of your voice or the way you stumbled over your words, but Declan was privy to your strange behavior. He stopped what he was doing and turned his body to face yours, brows furrowed.

“Why are ya actin’ weird?”

The question was filled with curiosity- hardly accusatory, but you felt your palms begin to sweat.

“I’m not acting weird.” You countered, sitting up straight.

Declan’s eyes squinted at you in question.

“Tag!” He yelled toward the kitchen but kept his stare on you.

“Taggie!” This time his yell was much louder, and you winced at the upcoming interrogation you were sure to receive.

Declan slowly closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“Where’s Tag?”

With his eyes still closed you could tell Declan was trying to remain relaxed, but you had a feeling he knew exactly where his daughter was.

“She went to walk Rupert home.” The words flew out of your mouth in one quiet stream.

Declan let out an aggressively loud sigh. his eyes finally opening to meet yours, the anger palpable in the deep brown of his iris’.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can’t fucking trust either of them.”

He was doing his best not to yell but his voice was pushing out strong and harsh. His hands were in the air motioning in rage, still holding onto half full glasses left behind by party goers.

“I can’t fucking stand Rupert, he knows exactly how I feel about this! I’m going down there.”

And now he was yelling.

He shoved the glasses in his hands onto the coffee table, creating another mess out of the already dirty cups. The clinking and crashing sounds only accentuating the anger exuding from him.

Just as he was turning to leave the room you jumped up off the sofa, rushing to grab his forearm.

“Declan don’t.”

your eyes were pleading with him, he had never seen you look so desperate. It stopped him in his tracks seeing you gaze at him like that.

Why was it turning him on?

“She’s an adult. Let her make her own decisions.” Your grip on his arm was still tight, you weren’t going to let him ruin this for Taggie.

“Yeah, and he’s an adult too. almost twice her age. He shouldn’t be interested in gettin’ her alone.”

He wasn’t yelling anymore, and he also wasn’t fighting your effort to keep him from leaving the room.

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” Your voice was calm and quiet in an attempt to deescalate the situation.

“Well of course you would think that.”

Declan practically spit the words out, but you could tell by the wince in his eyes that he wished he hadn’t.

“and why do you say that?” You challenged, taken aback by his comment.

You were searching your brain for the reason behind Declan’s accusation when it hit you. He had to be referring to the time you hooked up with Basil Baddington. Only you never actually hooked up with him. The two of you madeout in his parked car outside of bar sinister one time and the next day there was a nasty rumor going around that you got caught giving basil head in his brand new 86 corvette.

You could distinctly remember later that week Declan asked if you were seeing Bas.

He never mentioned the alleged sexual act or the other heinous things people were saying about the two of you, he just asked if you were dating.

It was such a harmless and casual question, one that you answered confidently, assuring him there was absolutely nothing going on between you. “Good he’s a prick and way too old for you” was Declan’s short and sweet response.

“Oh last summer. With Bas?” You were grinning now. Almost amused that Declan was comparing your two-week fling with a man barely 10 years older than you to his daughter’s love affair with a retired Olympian.

“First of all, he’s not even that much older than me. And second, you of all people should know nothing even happened between us. We made out and I barely felt him up through his jeans, nothing past a PG-13 rating.” You were almost laughing at the memory.

Declan felt a pang of jealousy in his chest at the mention of the younger man’s name on your lips.

“He isn’t my type anyway.” The words tumble from your mouth and you see Declan’s eyes fully soften. His gaze intently watching you.

“Even if I am a bad influence, at least Taggie won’t be getting caught giving someone a blowjob in a tiny pretentious sports car.”

There’s a giggle in your voice and Declan closes his eyes once again, shaking his head at your words.

“Please don’t say my daughter’s name and the word blowjob in the same sentence.” He’s rubbing his temple, and you let your hold on his arm relax.

“Oh come on! It’s just sex. Blowjobs are a perfectly normal part of life.” Your sentiment is serious but there’s still a teasing tone in your voice.

Declan can’t handle hearing such dirty things come out of your mouth.

You talking about sex was not something he had on this evening’s agenda. He didn’t think he could handle much more before he would need to excuse himself to his bedroom to relieve the tension building in his pants. Imagining it’s your lips wrapped around his cock, with the sound of your voice still echoing in his head.

You watched with a coy smile on your face as Declan’s cheeks displayed a slight hue of pink. He was looking everywhere but your eyes and it was fun to see him so flustered.

Your hand still lingered on his arm, and you realized you’d never touched him before. You had imagined it many, many times, although, those scenarios were often much raunchier– involving your hand holding something that definitely wasn’t his arm. You had fantasized about touching Declan, feeling the warmth of his skin on yours. Your heart rate quickened when you remembered the two of you were alone.

Something about your current position coupled with the idea that it was just the two of you on your own in this big house, had you behaving in a way you barely recognized. Possessed by a craving that could only be satisfied by the man at the other end of your touch.

“When was the last time you had a woman on her knees for you?” The question left your lips quietly- a soft and smooth whisper.

His eyes are on yours quick, but you can’t read his expression. He’s staring you down, not even attempting to open his mouth to give you an answer to your question.

“I mean it’s had to of been months. I’m around enough to know you haven’t seen anyone since maud left and I-“ Your continuing your cross-examination when Declan’s harsh accent interrupts you.

“Years.”

The one word is all he says.

It takes you a minute to understand, but once you do you have to try your best to keep the shock from showing on your face.

“Years Declan?” the surprise in your voice is unmistakable.

“It’s been years since the last time someone gave you a blowjob?”

Declan just raises his eyebrows at you in defeat. There’s a hint of embarrassment in his eyes and it makes you feel sick to your stomach.

“Maud wasn’t much of a giver.” He shrugs.

“Lucky for her I was.” You’re glad to see the playful glimmer in his gaze as he jokes about his ex-wife.

Declan’s words insinuate that him and Maud’s intimacy completely revolved around her pleasure.

What a selfish bitch. You think to yourself.

You had never liked Maud. The way she treated her family made you irrationally angry and this was just adding fuel to the fire.

“That’s not fair.” Your voice is faint.

If it wasn’t for the way your eyes were staring into his, Declan would have sworn you were talking to yourself.

“You deserve to feel good.” This time you open your mouth, and the words sound almost like a purr.

Declan can feel his eyelids growing heavy with lust and he can’t stop himself from watching as you take your bottom lip between your teeth.

You’re biting down on the pillowy flesh and all he wants to do is replace your teeth with his, gently nipping at your skin and finally getting a taste of those pretty pink lips.

You see Declan’s gaze fall to your lips and something in you snaps. It’s almost like you’ve lost all logical thought and replaced it with feral desire as you sink down onto your knees for the man in front of you.

Declan’s voice gets stuck in his throat as he whispers your name causing it to come out in a husky groan.

He’s completely lost in his head right now. He can’t focus on a single thing, only you kneeling beneath him.

“What are you doin’?” He finally comes to his senses enough to string a sentence together.

“Giving you what you deserve.” You state sweetly.

He shakes his head in disagreeance but can’t form the words on his tongue to tell you to stop.

“This is wrong.” He says it but he’s making absolutely no effort to get you off your knees.

“Let me do this for you Mr. O’Hara” You look up at him, doing your best to keep your gaze wide-eyed and innocent. Your fingertips toying with his belt buckle.

Seeing you looking up at him through your lashes like that, using his surname in such a sensual tone– he would let you do anything you wanted to him. He had never had a woman so ready to give to him like this. You were practically salivating, so hungry and greedy to have him in your mouth, it was like something out of a wet dream.

“Yeah, Okay.” He gives into your joint desire with a whisper of two simple words.

The satisfied smirk on your lips as you hear him agree to the lewd act has him going weak in the knees.

He’s mentally searching his surroundings for a stable piece of furniture to grip as you undo his belt with your nimble hands.

If you keep acting so desperate to have your lips around his cock he won’t be able to stand on his own two feet.

You take your time with his belt, pulling it from the loops on his waist one by one until it finally hits the floor.

You’re staring at the tent in his dress pants, seeing how hard he is in anticipation. The evidence of his arousal has you wet between your legs and you can’t help but lift your hand to get a feel of him through his pants.

Your touch on him is soft but the second he feels your hand meet his concealed erection he’s sucking in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut in shameful desire.

You move your fingertips to the button of his pants, popping it open and trailing his zipper down at a painfully slow pace.

Declan was doing his best to remain calm but you could hear his erratic breathing with every movement of your body beneath him.

His hands were hanging at his sides and you desperately wanted them tangled in your hair or around your neck.

You had his underwear hooked in your grip ready to slip them, along with his pants, down to his ankles.

You looked up at him once more only to see his eyes still closed.

He wanted to look at you, to see you inches away from his cock, but he couldn’t. There was no way in hell he could stand to watch you taking his clothes off, looking at him with those pretty eyes. He would cum in his pants right away.

He was focusing on steadying his breath as you pulled his boxers and slacks down his thighs, allowing his agonizingly hard member freedom from its constraints.

You were now face to face with a part of Declan you thought you would only see in your dreams. You bit down on your lip again at the sight of him, bigger and even more alluring than you had imagined it to be.

You trail your fingertips up his thigh earning a groan from the man above you.

Very gently taking his length in your hand you pump him once, then twice, wondering how on earth anyone could neglect this man of such pleasure for so long.

It was a crime, you thought– to sleep next to Declan O’Hara every night and never give him this type of gratification.

You leaned in to place a handful of soft kisses to his lower abdomen in a path to where he wanted your mouth most.

A quiet groan left his mouth when your lips met the base of his cock, your tongue coming into play as you traced up the length of his shaft with one long kitten lick, kissing the precum off his leaking tip.

Taking just the head of him through the threshold of your lips you decide to look up again, hoping to see a state of bliss taking over his features.

You take him deeper into your mouth and peer up at him. His stare is completely fixated on you, his mouth parted in pleasure.

When his eyes catch yours it’s game over, he doesn’t care that you’re his daughter’s best friend or that you’re nearly 20 years younger than him. The only thing he can think of is the feeling of your sweet mouth around his cock and how utterly gorgeous you look taking him like this.

“Fuck darlin’.” He’s moaning out as you slide him deeper past your lips.

You moan back when his hands find your hair, intertwining his fingers in it gently, careful not to grip or pull too hard.

You wouldn’t mind though.

You had imagined fucking Declan multiple times in multiple different scenarios. Many of those visions involved his rough hands gripping your neck, slapping your ass, and pulling your hair.

You needed him in every way possible and you wanted him to know he could use you however he pleased.

You kept a slow pace as you continuously enveloped him in the warmth of your mouth. In and out.

The attention of your lips is on the head of his cock when you bring a hand up to wrap around the rest of him, your mouth and fingers working together. You feel his body shutter and for a second you think he might lose his balance.

“Christ that’s good.” His voice falls on your ears in a throaty moan.

“So good for me like that darlin’.”

His words are driving you to a place of overwhelming carnality.

In that moment you felt as though your one and only purpose in life was to be on your knees for Declan O’Hara. You were determined to show him exactly what he’d been missing all those years.

“Touch yourself.” His voice is no longer a moan, instead it’s strong and stern.

You pause your movements for just a second to process his command.

Here you sat thinking you were the one with all the filthy thoughts, but Declan’s brain must have been equally as corrupt.

He was asking to see you touch yourself for him– to see you get off with his dick in your mouth.

And it just might have been the hottest thing anyone had ever said to you.

Without so much as a second thought, you were hiking your already short dress further up your thighs until you were able to easily reach underneath. Slipping the silk material of your underwear to the side, your index finger found your clit circling it lazily as you continued to focus on Declan’s pleasure.

“Good girl.” Declan praised and you could hear the faint smirk in his voice.

He had wanted to call you that earlier in the night when he watched you bend over his dining room table. Helping to clear dirty dishes, leaning over to grab a plate with your short dress riding up far enough to send Declan into cardiac arrest. You were just trying to help, to be a good girl, so sweet and innocent not even realizing how dirty you really were.

The sight in front of him now was far more arousing. You bowing in front of him, immersed in his gratification with your own hand hiding between your legs. He didn’t want to admit how close he was at the sight alone. That’s not even to mention how good it felt.

It had been so long since anyone touched him like this, it was a near out of body experience. The hug of your wet lips mixed with the smooth strokes of your hand had profanities dripping from his tongue.

With every sound that slipped from Declan’s lips your fingers worked faster at the growing pleasure between your legs. Your pace quickened on Declan as well and you immediately felt his grasp on your hair tighten.

He was dangerously close to spilling into your mouth. He was trying to pay attention to his breathing and steady his mind.

He wanted so badly for this feeling to last forever but the fire within him was all consuming and he knew he had to stop you soon or the fun would be over before it had even begun.

He uses his hold in your hair to guide you off of him. Your hand is still buried underneath your dress and your hair messy from his hands. Your lips are plump and you have the cutest look of confusion and frustration on your face. Declan almost pushed you right back onto him at the look in your eyes, but he refrained.

“Stand up.” He was enjoying ordering you around more than he could have ever anticipated.

You stood slightly irritated. How rude of him to not let you finish the job you were working so beautifully at.

You had barely any time to be disappointed because as soon as you’re on your feet Declan is pulling you into a frenzied kiss.

It’s frantic, it’s turbulent, it’s sloppy. the kiss is raw and impassioned and you’re both lost in each other’s taste.

He broke the newfound connection of lips to reach under the hem of your dress. Finding the thin material of your panties and yanking them down your legs freeing your body of the wet and ruined clothing.

With his lips back on yours, he took a few steps backward brining you with him.

Once his body finds the living room couch, he’s sat, drawing you onto his lap.

You were falling onto him straddling one of his thighs as you continued assaulting his mouth with your own. You enjoyed the slight dominance you held in this position.

His kiss found its way to your exposed neck placing the most delicious wet touches on your skin.

You felt his hands grab your waist on either side pulling your body down to sit completely on his bare thigh. Your exposed core met the pure muscle of Declan’s leg and you both made equally lewd sounds of delight.

“Tell me,” Declan begins to speak but his voice is strained in excitement at the feeling of your wet cunt against his thigh.

“do you walk around my house in those tiny little’ skirts just to torture me.”

He’s smirking at you as he uses his hold on your hips to guide you, pulling you back and forth against him.

You’re in a trance at the delicious friction of him beneath you, all you can do is nod your head at his words, that innocent expression still in your eyes.

He’s going to go insane if you keep looking at him like that.

Your following his lead and grinding against his thigh shamelessly.

Declan’s using the dress that’s now bunched at your waist as leverage, griping at the material to influence your movements.

His eyes fall between the two of you, watching you use yourself on him. You’re letting sighs and whimpers fall from your mouth as your arousal slides continuously over the thickest part of his leg.

You catch his cock twitch out of the corner of your eye and all you want to do is maneuver your body so your sitting on it instead of his thigh.

You reach down, wrapping your hand around his member once again.

“Declan, please.”

Your begging to be on his cock at this point.

He can’t deny how much he loves hearing you beg for him. He’s ready to pull you down onto his length the second he hears your eager little whimper.

“Never knew you’d be so needy darlin’.”

He’s using his hold on your hips to lift you enough for you to subtly switch positions. You’re now straddling his entire lap, your center only inches away from meeting his.

“Would’ve done this a long time ago.”

His voice is raspy as he brings his hand between your legs.

Declan’s pointer finger finds your entrance and eases it’s way inside of you, causing a moan to spill from your throat.

“Declan…” His name falls from your lips, but he could tell his fingers weren’t what you wanted filling you.

“Beg for it.” He whispers between you, smiling like a pussy-drunk idiot.

His finger is curling into your walls hitting just the right spot, but you want his cock stretching you out and filling you up.

“Please” You’re asking him in the sweetest tone you can muster.

You still have a slight hold of his length, and you begin stroking it at a painfully slow pace.

“God I want this so badly.” Your confession is breathless.

“I think about it all of the time.” You continue making sure to give him your best doe-eyes.

That was it, he couldn’t take it anymore. You were too sweet, too perfect. He had been obsessed with you for months; watching you, thinking about you. He didn’t give a fuck how wrong it was– he needed you.

In an instant his fingers were gone from your core and his hold was back on your hips, sinking you down onto him.

You could feel his tip meeting your opening and you whined out in anticipation. The noise causing Declan to thrust into you, filling you with one deep push. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from squealing from the stinging pleasure.

He waited a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size and giving himself a second to steady his breath.

“This,” He spoke in a grunt as he fucked up into you again.

“Is all I think about every time I see you in my house.”

His voice is spreading warmth through your body as his thrusts ignite a fire in your abdomen.

“You don’t even have to try. You’re just always so enticing.” The words coming from his mouth are intoxicating.

You’re swimming in a pool of ecstasy at his confessions.

“I can’t get enough.” He’s panting as his thrusts pick up their pace.

You’re grinding down onto him meeting each of his thrusts with a wet squelch, taking him deeper with each movement. The way he’s stretching you open has you clenching around him.

You lock your hands behind his neck leaning on his shoulders for some kind of control as you feel your body beginning to go limp.

The pressure building in you is almost too much to bear and it becomes even more difficult when Declan meets your exposed chest with open mouthed kisses. He’s licking and sucking at your skin greedily, causing your head to fall to the side in pleasure.

“So pretty.” Declan is murmuring into your skin.

Your movements mixed with his are perfectly timed and hitting just the perfect spot.

Maybe it’s the fact that you were already soaked long before you had his dick in your mouth, or maybe it was because you had been dreaming of this exact moment for a long time– either way, you were close. Really close. Your walls were desperately squeezing Declan’s cock as it slid in and out of you, your chest heaving under his kisses.

“C’mon darlin’.”

It’s Declan’s turn to look up at you through his lashes and the sight has you going feral. The tightening in your core finally letting loose.

“Let go for me.”

With his words you’re a whimpering, moaning mess. Your movements halt and your body tenses as you push through your release.

Your pulsating embrace around him has Declan following your lead.

He’s holding your hips in place and bucking into you at a fierce pace. Plunging deep, fucking you right through your orgasm. It’s taking everything in you not to scream out in blinding pleasure.

Then he grows sloppy as he lets his own release take over him.

He finishes with a string of moans that sound like music to your ears, and you think you might cum again just from the noises he’s making as he comes undone.

You’re sat on him, both of you catching your breath, your eyes are locked on one another. Neither of you can look away.

There was a shared energy between you. Maybe guilt or shame– or perhaps triumph.

You couldn’t help but remember the reason you were in this position in the first place.

Taggie.

She would be so disappointed in you but even more upset with her father if she knew what just took place.

She couldn’t be too angry though. You did exactly what you said you’d do– distract him.

Watching the man sitting beneath you struggling to steady his breath was a sign that you had done a pretty good job at your task of helping Taggie escape for the night.

You could only hope she’d had half as much fun as you did.

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