#and the fact I got to see that look WITH MY OWN TWO EYES LIKE HELLO

[madamechrissy]

Let me in your ocean, Swim

The five times Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, and the one that works

Pairings- Sukuna x F reader (both like 23/24)

Summary- You have known Sukuna your entire life, and he's infuriated you for most of it. Since you were kids on a playground he was picking on you, and you decided you hate him (love him!?) little do you know, he's been in love with you since the moment you met. There were five times he tried and epically failed to let you know. You all don't see each other for two years after college, when you run into him on Valentine's day at the bar- and you think, what better for getting jilted tonight then a hate fuck from Sukuna!? But... no, in fact he needs to finally tell you the truth. Sukuna 5+1 valentines story

CW- MDNI/NSFW- Idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers (kinda!?) Sukuna is TERRIBLE at feelings, reader is bratty, he is lowkey a bully when you're younger, go through the five times he tried to tell you (intermingles with the current night) sweet, angsty, smutty. Warnings oh boy a lot- Explicit sex, sexual tension, tummy bulges, breed kink, oral sex (m and f recieving) fingering, rough sex, creampie, possessive Sukuna, lots of dirty talk, alcohol underage, use of recreational drugs etc, it's me so ofc we have a lowkey breed kink lol- LONG ONE- 14.8k wc- TRUST ME PLZ lol

tracks for this Breathe // On My Own // Me & U // Wicked Games // The High

Comments/reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyyyy <3

You didn’t expect to be sitting alone at a bar for Valentine’s day, but here you are, dressed to the nines in a beautiful glittery black dress, hair done up, makeup perfect on your skin. You have glittery bangles along your wrist, and red bottom heels, you’re as dressed up as you ever got, but right before your date, your boyfriend decided to break things off with you.

Which leads you to this hole in the wall bar, across the street from the fancy restaurant you’d sat at for an hour waiting on him, only to get broken up via text. Sighing, you order another drink, tensing then when you hear it, the damn voice of the man who you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also had it bad for, for years and years, ever since elementary school.

“Tch, what’re you doing here brat?” You glare up at him, but when you see just how good Sukuna looks, after two years of not seeing him? You falter, lips parted just so as he smirks down at you.

However, his heart is pounding in his chest, despite certainly not showing you outwardly, you take his damn breath away. Sukuna has always found you to be the most beautiful, infuriating little creature in existence. And you’ve just gotten more beautiful, which in itself irritates the shit out of him, it was hard enough acting ‘normal’ around you all his life.

But now?

“What’re you doing here, Kuna?” He snorts, rolling ruby red eyes, leaning against the bar with an elbow propped on it, glaring at you.

“Don’t call me that, god.”

“It irritates you, so I will.” You smile up at him, sipping the rest of your drink, which he eyes disparagingly.

“What’s that pink shit?”

“Oh, like your hair?” You counter, raising a brow, his jaw sets. “Ya want one, Kuna?”

“No, I don’t want your little bitch drink.” You roll your eyes now, as he sits next to you, and your eyes sweep over his starch white dress shirt and black slacks, stretching over muscles that seemed to have only gotten more pronounced since college.

“Not even my cherry, hmm?” You tease, pulling the maraschino out of your cup, dangling it in front of his face.

“That’s long gone, I’m sure, looking all slutty …” He murmurs, right in your ear, you shove at him, scoffing.

“You’re slutty, Sukuna. Pretty sure you fucked a whole sorority last time we caught up?”

“Mmm, rumors, rumors.” He holds up two fingers now. “Gimme something that’s not a little bitch drink, please.”

“So manly, oh heavens!” You pretend to fan yourself and he can’t stop the laughter, but he soon covers it with a glare.

“Get her some more of this pink crap.” He says, and you are a little surprised then, looking at the handsome man who’s had your heart for so long you can’t remember a time before him.

“Are you buying me a drink?”

“I am buying you a drink. I… it’s been a long time.” He misses you, but the words are caught in his throat.

“It has been a long time. Thank you.” You smile as the bartender hands you another dirty Shirley, and hands Sukuna a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He sips at it, eyes darting over your frame, your sexy body that is so well shown in that dress of yours, all he can think of is unzipping it.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” You blink a bit.

“How’d you know I had one?”

Well, Sukuna’s been insta stalking you but he won’t admit it.

“Heard it from our friends, duh. Just because we don’t see each other doesn’t mean I don’t see them.”

“Yeah well, it’s not like… I didn’t want to see you. We left things…”

“Yeah.” He sighs now, running a hand through pastel locks, a hand with black tattoos and black nails, throwing off this corporate vibe he has, something dark about him, but then, there’s always been. “You single on Valentine’s day?”

“I am, officially. Ass of a boyfriend left me across the street via text. And… are you…”

“Yeah, I also got broken up with, but slapped in the face, and in person. Think they planned the shit?” You giggle, shaking your head and sipping your drink, leaning just a bit closer, one of your legs brushing his, strong muscles of his pressing on yours. He damn near moans just at feeling your body after so, so long.

“Maybe they did. I’ve wanted to see you, though… I just…”

“There’s something I wanted to… tell you. Actually. I thought about calling you, but…”

“Yeah? Calling me?”

“So surprising?”

“You hate me? So yeah.”

Sukuna sighs now, sipping his drink again, looking down into your beautiful eyes, your beautiful face, remembering just all those times he’d ruined it with you. Fuck, since the first moment he met you, he was a dick, and pushed you away, all because the shit he feels terrifies him. And over the years, he’s tried, but he thought you were too far gone, nothing but a regret, a memory.

Something to compare every girl he’s with, never you, are they? There’s no one like you.

But you’re here of all places, and though Sukuna thinks shit like ‘signs’ are the dumbest thing ever, he can’t let this pass, not this time. He takes a breath and his lips part, his fingers then brush your hair back, something far too gentle for Sukuna, something that makes your eyes dilate, your little gasp so sexy he can’t think.

“You trying to fuck me tonight?” You ask, and he chuckles, the gentle brush now a rough grip in your hair, leaning over you.

You taste the whiskey on his breath, you feel his lips so close, your breaths mingling, as your hand comes to his shirt, balling the fancy material in your little fist. “That what you want, brat? Me to fuck you finally?”

“Maybe I do.” He freezes then, blinking long lashes, leaning even closer, free hand gripping your waist in the crowded bar. “A hate fuck? Sounds like the perfect thing to forget tonight.”

“Hate fuck, huh?” What you don’t know is, Sukuna is in love with you.

“Never thought of it? I doubt that. I remember things.” You lean even closer, hand now pulling at the nape of your neck, his other hand pressing against your ribcage, thumb right under the swell of your breasts, shooting desire down your tummy, across your body.

“I remember more, trust me. I need… to tell you shit. Okay? Will your bratty ass listen?”

“Make me.”

“I swear to…” You giggle as he slams his lips on yours, exhaling at how good it feels, god was good the word!? How fucking perfect you feel, mushy things he’ll never admit, his heart thudding in his chest. You whimper, this sound from the back of your throat that has him picturing every sound he’s going to elicit from you tonight.

His lips are firm, but surprisingly gentle for Sukuna, different from the couple of kisses over the years, no it’s too much. His tongue slipping between the seam of your lips, and devouring your mouth. Your arms slip up around his neck, kissing him back, arching toward him more and more. Your years of desire come out, your body reacting to his every movement.

You want him.

He needs you.

He pulls back, taking a breath and smirking. “Fucked out expression how? From a kiss?”

“You’re such a dick, I swear to god.” You shove at him now, as the music from the bar vibrates, beating erratic like your heart.

“Listen… if you can actually listen to me tonight, I’ll make you cum so much you won’t even be able to think about your dumb little ex boyfriend. Yeah?” Your chest heaves up and down with your breaths, vivid images spilling through, his white grin flashes under the neon lights. “Can’t think now?”

“I… fucking… okay. I’ll listen to whatever bullshit you want, I guess.”

“Need me that bad?”

“I’m gonna go-”

“No, shit. Shit, no don’t… stop it.” He holds you to him now, sighing as he looks at your pretty scowl, one that just makes him want you more. “Just give me the night to explain some shit, yeah?”

“Fine. But let’s get out of here after this drink.”

“Desperate to be alone, huh?”

“Y’know, that bartender is kinda cute.” You wink at him then, leaning forward, earning Sukuna yanking at your hair. “Ow! Always did that shit.”

“That’s the first thing I wanted to talk about… the day we met.” You rest your chin on your hand now, hair falling just so as he remembers.

*****

The first time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, 4th/5th grade (Kuna age 11, Y/N age 10)

You were the new girl, a little shy but so pretty. And well, when you came up to Sukuna and smiled, asking where your class was, he couldn’t even speak, he just stood there, mouth flopping like some fish as you waited. His little brother Yuuji finally answered you, staring at his brother in confusion. ‘it’s right there across the hall’.

“Oh, thank you! What’s your name?” You smile at him then, and your smile is just too… annoying, yes, it annoys Sukuna.

“Yuuji, I’m in fourth grade but Sukuna is in fifth. What grade are you in?” He nudges his brother, who rolls his ruby red eyes.

“I’m in fourth too! Oh, so you’re Sukuna then?” You ask sweetly, turning to Sukuna, something happens then, Sukuna blushes. “Are you okay?”

He scowls at you now. “Of course I am, what’re you looking at?” He demanded, and your mouth opened in surprise.

“What?”

“Yeah, stop staring, new kid.” You roll your eyes now, shaking your head with a narrowing of your own eyes.

“You’re pretty rude.”

“You’re pretty weird.” You scoff then, and Yuuji is waving his arms up and down, stepping between you.

“Be nice, Sukuna. Um, can I walk you to class?” You nod then, giving Sukuna a glare, as Yuuji whispers in his ear.

“You’re such a jerk, she’s pretty.”

“Tch, whatever.” Sukuna watches as you walk off with Yuuji then, he does not like whatever it is you just made him feel. He’s thankful you’re not in any of his classes until you walk right into art, and you’re nervously standing near the teacher. She introduces you, and Sukuna finally learns your name.

“You can sit next to Sukuna!” Sukuna crosses his arms, jaw setting, and you look at him, wondering just what his problem is.

You think he’s really cute, for such a jerk, as you sit next to him and peer over at his sketch, which is actually really good. Trying to still be friendly, you let him know- “that’s awesome!”

Sukuna scoffs, covering it up quickly, no one has really seen his art, and your compliment makes him blush. “I didn’t show you.”

You frown now, brows knitting together. “Um, sorry, but it’s so cool. Could I see more?”

“No!”

“Um…”

“Just stop talking, would you? Bad enough I have to sit by you.” Your lower lip trembles, and Sukuna feels horrible now. “I’m… look, I’m-”

“Sorry.” You whisper, sniffling just a bit and looking at the teacher, and Sukuna hates himself then, he keeps wanting to say something, anything, but when he finally catches you in the hall, you glare at him.

How are you even cuter glaring!?

“Leave me alone, you’re a… a jerk!” You say then, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

“Me, a jerk? Why because I’m not fawning over the new girl?”

“No, because you… just are a jerk!”

“Well you’re a brat.” Sukuna says, and you gasp, turning angrily and clutching your books, Sukuna rubs his hand over his face, sighing then.

He really messed that up.

*****

You swirl your straw around your cup as Sukuna sips on his whiskey, looking far too damn fine you think, and you know it’s not the couple of drinks in your system. It’s just him and who he is, everything about him since day one drew you in, despite his best efforts at being an ass to you. You smile a bit as you remember the day that you met him.

“You were so mean, for no reason.” You muse softly, he sighs then, running a hand through pink strands of slick backed hair.

“Yeah, I was… then when I tried to apologize, you scowled at me.” You giggle then, the sound ending him completely, the way your cute nose scrunches up, god had he ever told you? Has he ever really said a compliment more than a handful of times to you?

“I was mad at you, for sure. My whole life people really liked me, but you didn’t at all, and I couldn’t fix it.”

“People pleaser.” You sigh at that, leaning a bit on your elbow, breasts showing far too much in your pretty neckline.

“I am, for sure.”

“When you laugh…” He trails off now, psyching himself up, taking a breath as he studies you seriously.

“When I laugh…”

“Your nose scrunches up… it’s cute.” He mumbles, almost like he’s in pain, and you giggle again, making him smile just a bit before he realizes it.

“It is!? Is that a compliment from Sukuna?”

“There are a lot of compliments I have for you. But, yeah, it’s annoyingly cute.” Your giggles relax a bit, as you now bite your lower lip, tempting him to kiss you all over again. “The things I can’t wait to do to you.”

That sobers you up, sending chills across your entire body, desire stark on your pretty face. “Oh yeah?” Your little breathy mumble wrecks him, but outwardly he raises a brow.

“Is that your attempt at being nonchalant, brat? Oh yeah?” He mocks, you shove at him then, as he snorts in laughter.

“Is that your attempt at being sexy- ‘can’t wait to show you little brat’ pshh.” You’re mocking him in a deep tone, Sukuna can’t stop the smirk.

“Bet it worked, bet you’re all wet, hmm?” You pause now, biting your lower lip again, teeth leaving marks when he gently pulls it from your teeth’s grip. “Nothing smart to say?”

“Shut up.” Is all you mumble, and he exhales, ruby eyes glinting as they watch you so carefully, studying your every feature. “So is that what you needed to say? My laugh is kind of cute?”

Sukuna clears his throat now, shifting a bit on the barstool, running a thumb down the glass. “No. The day we met, I should have told you that… you were pretty, and sweet. And I was an ass.” You blink in confusion.

“Sukuna, are you dying or something!? Is this some end of life apology tour!? You better not be, I swear to-”

“Shut it.” He stops you now, a fingertip to your lips. “I ain’t dying, calm down, can a man not… speak on some shit?”

“Sure, but it’s you, like my mortal enemy? Bane of my existence? Bully the entirety of school?”

One of his big hands is brushing against your bare thigh now, you look down at it, all tattooed, veiny, huge… making your tummy flip. “Maybe I wanted to be more than that.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is a breathy whisper, you half wonder if you’re in some dream, Sukuna being nice to you!? Being so close after so long?

“Yeah. So another drink, another story?”

“Hmm, do I get another kiss if I listen?” You tease, feeling the liquor make you bold, warming your insides. Sukuna’s lips quirk up on one side, his breath tickling your neck when he leans close, lips almost brushing against it. You feel your pulse flutter when his plump lips touch the shell of your ear just barely, like a fire igniting inside you, more than any liquor could produce.

“I’ll not just kiss you everywhere, I’ll fucking bite you everywhere, lick you all over, every…” His lips kiss your jaw line. “Pretty.” Your neck. “Inch.” He’s right behind your ear, that sensitive spot, kissing and nipping just so, you bite back a cry and fail, earning his chuckle. “You’re so easy f’me, huh brat?”

“Oh f-fuck you…” Your grumble makes him laugh, the sound tickling you as hiegrips your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “You’re the worst.”

“I know, I have been, for all these years. Ya ready for the next story? Then I promise…” He’s trailing his fingers down your thigh now, making your knees literally knock together, tummy clenching with an insane need you’ve only felt once, back on the last day you all really talked to each other. “Then we can head out of here.”

“Better be good, if it’s boring I’ll leave.” Your half hearted promise just makes him throw his head back in laughter, as he orders two more drinks, loosening his tie just a bit, making your thoughts haywire. “Where to, then? What trip down memory lane of bully Sukuna?”

Sukuna tenses just a bit, the things that he’s held in so long threatening to spill. “Middle school… more specifically, seventh grade, Yuuji’s party?”

It’s your turn to tense, at the brutal memory, so long ago. “Oh…”

*****

The second time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, 7th/8th grade (Kuna age 14, Y/N age 13)

 You were boogie skating with these fancy rainbow skates you saved all your allowance for, as all your friends were gathered around, some over at concessions, some at the arcade, some skating alongside you. But Sukuna? He was leaning on the edge of the brightly colored wall, watching no one but you, he could pick you out of anywhere, really.

You were so good at skating too, legs crisscrossing to the beat, your friends and his all murmuring about how good you are at it. You’re giggling as you whisper something to your friend Nobara, her and Yuuji were all best friends, along with Megumi, who was sipping on a coke next to Sukuna and Yuuji.

“She’s really good, isn’t she?” Megumi says, and Sukuna scoffs, shrugging.

“I guess.”

“She’s insane at it, she teaches kids and everything.” Yuuji says.

“You got it so bad for her.” Megumi teases, and then Sukuna tenses a bit, looking at you again, then at his brother, who is blushing.

“Nah, she’s just my friend. She’s so pretty though.”

You and Nobara are hopping off the floor, and Nobara looks right at Sukuna then, blinking her brown eyes and narrowing them. Sukuna wonders at just what you’re telling her, as you nervously bite your lower lip, then you’re waving your arms wildly as Nobara skates over to the three of them, and you tentatively follow, color decorating your cheeks under neon lights.

“Hey, Sukuna.” Nobara says, and he leans back on the wall.

“Yeah, what is it?”

She comes closer then, leaning a little too close. “Do you like her?” She says your name then, and Sukuna glares, stuttering, Megumi and Yuuji snicker in laughter behind him when you approach.

“What kind of question is that?” He says, and Nobara glares now.

“It’s just a question, okay? You can’t keep your eyes off her.” She smirks, and you cover your face in embarrassment.

“Ignore her, please.” You mumble, wanting to fall into a hole then and there, as the loud music blares around the rink.

“Everyone says you have a crush.” Nobara continues.

“You do stare at her all the time…” Megumi says, Sukuna turns away then, crossing his arms, feeling so embarrassed he can’t think.

“You don’t have to answer, Sukuna, it’s okay…” You touch his shoulder then, and just a touch from you ruins his middle school brain, when he looks down at your cute little face. “I figured you didn’t, she just…”

“I don’t, not at all.” He says the words so sharply you yank your hand back like it was burned, eyes wide on him now.

“Okay.” You manage, and Sukuna hates how your face falls then.

“You’re such a jerk! Why do you have to say things like that!?” Yuuji says, and he scoffs.

“Always coming to her defense, aren’t you the one with the crush?”

“He’s my friend, Sukuna.” You say, as Yuuji scowls at his older brother.

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t ask you out if you were the last girl in school.” Your face falls now, and everyone gasps, as there were more kids from your class gathering around. Sukuna falters then, but you cross your arms, scowling.

“Good, because I would never say yes! You’re the last boy in the world I’d ever go out with!” You shout it practically, people are all whispering as you skate off then, fury raging through your veins, and Sukuna stands there, as everyone looks at him with confusion.

“What’s your problem!? She really likes you, you’re so stupid!” Nobara hisses, chasing after you now, and Megumi and Yuuji shake their heads, leaving Sukuna to skate off towards the lockers, hastily taking them off as his mind whirls with what he’s just done to you.

You’ve done nothing but be as nice as you can to him since he’s Yuuji’s brother, but that’s the only reason he thinks you’ve tolerated him at all. He picks on you constantly, he tugs at your hair, he’s even snipped a part of it off in elementary school, he may or may not have kept it.

He throws paper balls at you, he tugs at your shirt and makes fun of you, and even through all of it you’ve not done more than scowl, roll your eyes, tell him off. But Sukuna has it bad for you, in fact he thinks he’s in love with you, but he just becomes more of an idiot as you all are getting older. You affect him more and more as you become prettier and prettier.

He watches the way the light hits your face in class and stares dreamily before you’ll catch him, and he’ll scowl instead. He’s an idiot.

And now he knows he hurt you.

As he’s outside, about to walk home, you’re standing against the wall, covering your face, in tears, when you see him, turning away quickly. Sukuna pauses then, his heart breaking, knowing he’s embarrassed you, but he doesn’t know what to say. He walks up, earning your glare, though your eyes are puffy, and your nose is all red from rubbing it.

“I… I…” He trails off, and you shake your head.

“If your goal is to embarrass me, you succeeded. I should have never told her I liked you…”

Sukuna sputters, mouth opening and closing. “You what!?”

“I don’t anymore, don’t worry.” You rub at your eyes now, sobs catching in your throat when you look up into ruby red eyes, eyes that apparently hate you, but you see something different, something softer.

“Why would you like me?” He asks then, and you want to laugh.

“How would I know? You’re a mean jerk, always have been. Maybe I needed you to be mean like that, to really knock that idiot idea out of my head.” Sukuna feels himself breaking inside now, two hands coming to your shoulders, making you gasp as you tilt your head back to look at him.

He’s already taller than anyone, and the more he grows up the cuter he is, the worse your crush gets. The more you hang out at Yuuji’s house, the more you see him, the more you fall, shit the meaner he is the more you fall. You can’t even find it in you to stay mad at him, when he makes your heart race, when you’re drawing doodles of him and you in your notebook.

You asked Nobara not to say anything, but she was so sure that he liked you back, though you knew he didn’t, you knew he hated you. He has since he met you, and you don’t know what you did.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean it.” You scoff, shoving at him, his hands fall.

“You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

Sukuna blinks back his own emotion, gulping. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why’d you say it?” You look up at him, when your eyes look at him like that he hates himself so much, knowing he’s just lying to you, to himself.

“I just… everyone was…”

“You care so much what people think, despite acting like you don’t.” Sukuna scowls at you now. “Embarrassed to like me?”

“What!? Why the fuck would it be embarrassing to like you?”

“You tell me. Not pretty enough? Not popular enough? I see who you hang out with. Just forget it, I promise I’ll never say I like you again.” You peek at your phone now, sliding it up, but Sukuna cups your face, leaning close, your eyes dart to his lips, thinking for some insane moment he’d be your first kiss.

No way though.

“You’re pretty, okay? Very pretty.” You pause then, mouth open in a gasp, and Sukuna laughs without humor. “How can you think you’re not?”

“I… um… you…”

“I didn’t mean it.” He steps closer, thumb brushing a tear away from your cheek. “I’m sorry I… made you cry.”

“You always make me cry.” You whisper, and he gulps now.

“Yeah, I do. But this time… I’m really sorry.”

You sigh then, hand touching his wrist, making his own pulse race, as he thinks wildly of kissing you, of something he’s dreamed of since he first found out what it was. “You don’t have to apologize for not liking me back.”

“I-”

“But for saying it like that? Yeah it was mean.”

“Listen…”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile sadly, backing off when you see your mom’s car pull up, and Sukuna is left dumbfounded. “Don’t worry, I swear I won’t say it again, I won’t even… think it again.”

You know you’re lying.

Sukuna says nothing as you get in your mom’s car, and she’s asking if you’re okay, he watches her hug you for a moment before she begins to drive, and he sees your eyes full of tears again, streaking down your face. Yuuji walks out front then, nudging him as he watches his brother’s eyes glimmer with what looks like tears.

“Why’d you do it?” Yuuji asks, and Sukuna sighs.

“I don’t know.” He admits, Yuuji puts a hand on his back then.

“You’re a big idiot.”

“Excuse me!?”

“You are.”

He was.

*****

Suddenly all that embarrassment floods you, you tense at the memories, hating how vivid they are, after all these years. You nervously look away, downing the rest of your nearly empty drink in one gulp. Sukuna is quiet then, and you wonder just what his angle is, is he here to embarrass you again? Is this some long term bully shit? Is that an apology tour?

“Are you in therapy and making rounds?” You ask softly, voice breaking, and then you feel his hand wrap the back of your neck, resting his head against yours, making you ache for him.

“I don’t feel bad for shit I’ve done, ever, except what I’ve done to you.” You look at him, he’s too close, far too close. He sees your emotions mirroring his own, and it breaks him. “I should have never fucking done it.”

“Sukuna, we were in middle school. It’s fine.”

“It’s not though, because it was such a blatant lie. God how did you not know how bad I was down for you?” You suck in a breath, shaking your head quickly, and hopping off the barstool.

“You’re lying! What even is this shit.” Sukuna pulls you between his thighs, brushing your hair back behind your ear as you tremble. “Sukuna…”

“I am not lying, but I was then, an idiot kid who was mean as shit to you.”

“Why were you so mean?”

“I’m trying to get there. Can you keep listening?” You shake your head, sniffling. Now, it’s just like being back there, back on that day where you were so embarrassed you could hardly face anyone.

“I can’t handle this shit… it’s things I’ve shoved so far back…”

“I know.” Sukuna’s strong thighs are under your tiny little hands, pressing against his muscles under the expensive fabric, as everything fades in the world but him, but the longing that’s eating you both up from the inside. Your breaths come quicker when he looks at you, that intense way, with his arrogant smirk finally not on his face, just once.

“Why do you wanna do this, rehash it?” You ask now, leaning even closer, until you’re right against his body, and he’s bending low.

“I need to tell you some important shit, I just need you to listen. Do I need to reward your bratty ass for some patience?” There’s that smirk.

“Maybe, I offered to hook up, not go through yearbooks.”

“Fine, so let’s get out of here, let you get some air, and we’ll continue. I’ll… take care of you, hmm?”

“Yeah, think you could?” He snorts, rolling his ruby eyes, hopping down, towering right over you, taking over your every sense.

“You ask dumb fucking questions, I think that’s the one thing you know I could do…” He leans right down, cupping your face. “Ruin you for anyone.”

“Big talk.” You’re so full of shit, your body is on fire, your heart is pounding out of your chest, the clothes feel too tight, everything swirls around you.

“You know it’s not.” Sukuna pays for the tab then, walking you out, the cool night air hits you, making you shiver, so he wraps a jacket around your shoulders, shocking you. “You think I’m that much of a dick?”

“Yes.” He laughs then, that booming laugh that makes him throw his head back, as you snuggle against his jacket, inhaling the expensive scent of musky cologne. “You have nice taste though.”

“Bet you do too. A nice taste.” He pulls you against his hard chest, feeling your soft breasts press against him, making his cock hard just from that. “Wanna know how badly I’ve wanted to?”

“T-taste me?” You whisper, all bravado and teasing gone, the breeze gently blowing your hair around as you wait for his driver.

“Fuck yes. Should I right here, brat?” He slips his hand under the lapels of the jacket, slipping over your dress and slipping it up, as people walk in and out of the busy little dive bar. You feel yourself so wet you’ve made a werspot in your panties, panties his thumb finds slowly.

“Right h-here?” You whisper nervously, when his driver pulls up in a whole fucking limo, you blink in surprise at it, as his hands fall.

“You’d let me, so desperate.” You glare again, making him grin. “I love when you scowl at me.”

“Are you feeling okay!? And a limo, pretentious.” You eagerly slide in with his help though, seeing everything one could dream of, as he leans over, pulling out a bottle of champagne, raising a brow, the slits in it just making him sexier, damn him. “You just ride in a limo?”

“Why not? I have these long legs, and I like to be comfortable.”

“Psh…” He pours you a glass of champagne then, and you eye a little white baggie curiously, along with a bag of weed. “Damn you partying everywhere?”

“On occasion, usually this shit is for clients though.” You giggle a bit, sipping the champagne. “I would never offer coke, but you smoke?”

“No, not really. I did once and it made me so stupid.”

“Fair enough.” He closes up the little open box, arm over you casually, kissing his way up your neck carefully, enjoying your sighs of pleasure. “Do you want a reward for listening to two stories?”

“Hmm, what do I get? A gold star?” He smirks, shaking his head and kissing you, the tart of the champagne swapping between your tongues, the kiss is slow, sensual, before it builds, and he’s setting down your glasses. He’s got you on his lap so quickly your head spins, and you’re grinding on his length, gasping in pleasure, your head falling back.

“Holy… f-fuck…” He huffs, all bravado gone when he feels your slick warmth through the layer of his dress pants. “You’re that hot?”

“Am I?” You can’t think, not when you feel his length pressed, making you whimper, which he chuckles at, nipping your collarbone between his teeth.

“That little whine? Fuck… pathetic.”

“I hate you.” You grumble then, shoving at him, but he holds you by your hips, pressing you against him harder. “Let me go, ass.”

“I like you pathetic, sweet, whiny. Sexy as fuck.” You are dragged back down for a kiss, your teeth clicking with the intensity, as you roll your hips more and more, and he slips those hands up, the veins popping out when he grabs you bruisingly. “Everything about you is made to drive me insane.”

“You’re saying insane shit, Sukuna. Is this a booty call, a hate fuck… or…” You pause, gasping as he thumbs your clit over your panties, pressing against the damp fabric, making you whimper again, eyes rolling back.

“Ya think that’s all I want? No, brat, the reason I didn’t do shit… is because… I know I’ll never be able to fuckin’ stop.” You’re flipped under him, back pressing against the seat, as he hovers over you. You yank his tie down, slamming his lips against yours, hungry lips that drink every moan you have when his hand slips between your thighs, yanking your thong to the side.

“Kuna…” He groans, slipping fingers up and down your slit, you’re trembling now, breaths quicker and quicker.

“Need something, brat?” Your brows lower, you have an insult on the tip of your tongue when his finger tip presses your tight entrance, and then Sukuna loses it, shoving his finger all the way in, moaning. “You’re this fuckin tight?”

“Ngh…” You can’t manage an answer, not when he’s crooking his finger just so, pressing that little spot inside you, finding it better than any boyfriend could just the first time, and your walls are gripping his thick digit, while your hand still clutches his tie.

“There it is, ha- feel her, fuck.” Sukuna is simultaneously in control and losing control as he plays you, curling his fingers in syrupy wetness, making you fall apart under him, hips bucking when his thumb presses your clit again. “Like both, that pussy so slutty f’me?”

“S-slutty…” Your brain short circuits, when he slips in two, stretching you out, your dress scrunched up over your hips, he hovers over you, watching every expression on your pretty face avidly.

“That’s it… let go, huh? Make a fucking mess.” You’re panting, you’ve never cum from just fingers like this, not when he’s building that tension, pressing two up and rubbing your clit, until you’re reaching higher and higher. “Feel it, feel her, she wants to cum, just let her, huh?”

“F-fuck!” You scream out then, kissing him deeply, desperately, as he makes your pussy convulse around him, orgasm washing through you in waves, until you’re weak and boneless under him, twitching cunt gripping his fingers, so slick you hear it.

“That’s it, there you go.” He rubs his fingers up and down your slit now, easing up, sucking your juices off his fingers, cheeks hollowing. You gulp at the sight, of the sexiest fucking thing you’ve seen, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Can’t wait to bury my face, eat you so good you pass the fuck out.”

“Wh-what? You…” You can’t function, from fingers, when he kisses you again, slower, letting you taste yourself.

“Can’t wait to make you stupid. Fuck your brains out. Be nothing but me, brat, yeah?” His husky voice, his tight grip, his brutal kisses destroy you, they’re not the kiss you shared last time, not even close, he’s letting go, he’s ending you.

“K-Kuna…” He exhales now, easing off you as he helps you up, your coat having fallen onto the seats, leaving him to caress your bare arms gently.

“Feel better, brat? So needy.” You smack at him, only making him laugh just a bit. “Wanna know what I should’ve told you then?”

“Shit… forgot all of that.” You blink rapidly, disoriented.

“Cock drunk off fingers? So easy.”

“You know, drop me off-”

“Hush, brat.” He yanks you up, sitting you right on his lap, but this time sideways, sipping his drink and then holding the glass to your lips, you sip greedily, sighing and finding your arms wrapping around his neck, as he pulls you even closer against him, burying his face against your neck.

“What did you need to tell me then, Kuna?” You whisper, getting weaker by the moment, the orgasm destroying you, and making you wonder…

What would his dick be like?

His mouth?

If his fingers casually do that?

“I should have told you…” He exhales, pulling you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent greedily. “That I did have that crush, fuck way more than that, you were all I could think of. You still are.”

You still now, pulling back a bit, as your eyes lock in the led lit limo, your breaths mingling as they come quicker and quicker. “Y-you liked me?”

He shakes his head. “That wasn’t even the word. There’s a stronger word… one that terrified me then. I was a little ass, a shithead.”

“Yeah you were.”

He glares, pinching your hip then, making you yelp. “Can’t wait to occupy that bratty fucking mouth.”

“Oh yeah? Gonna shut me up?” You whisper, earning his cock leaking precum now, god only you could have this effect on him.

“I’ll shut you up, have your voice hoarse, shove my cock so deep.” You whimper, shifting, and he kisses you again, brutal and rough, teeth almost making your lower lip bleed, his grip on your hips pressing so deep you can’t breathe. “Hoarse from screaming, from my cock stretching your throat, so fucked out you won’t be able to sit or walk.”

“This is a lot of talk, Kuna. How many more fucking stories before you back it up, hmm?” You demand, voice breathy, he smiles then.

“Three.”

“Oh come on!”

“Shut it, brat. You ain’t gonna die, ain’t had my dick this long.”

“Well hurry your mean bully stories up.” You earn a gentle smack on your cheek, only making you whine out, as you smack him back, making him die for you, kissing you again before he remembers.

He needs to tell you it all.

“Make 'em quick, dammit.”

“Slutty brat.” He earns another smack, grinning, white teeth glinting. “Fine, fine… how about that time we kissed in high school?”

You heat up then. “Oh…”

*****

The third time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, junior/sophomore year of HS- (Kuna age 17, Y/N age 16)

By this time, Sukuna already had a reputation, he was the bad boy, always in and out of trouble. He rode a ridiculous motorcycle around, and he always had the new flavor of his month on the back of it. You barely even knew a girl who hadn’t made out with Sukuna… or probably more, but you were not one to care.

Sukuna and you went from enemies to nothing. He quit picking on you, and in some fucked, weird way you missed it, any of his attention. Walking through the halls and seeing him with his arm around a new girl all the time filled you with some odd sensation you didn’t wanna think of.

It’s a party over at Gojo’s house tonight, his parties were kind of ridiculous because of just how rich he was, and he damn near lived all alone. There was an insane amount of people there, as you navigated the party with a red solo cup in your hands, so nervously, Yuuji came bouncing over to you waving with his happy little grin on his face.

“Hey!” He shouts your name, Megumi follows in tow, smiling just a bit, a mere quirk of the corner of his lips.

“Hey Yuuji, Megumi. Where’s Nobara?”

“She’s over there, about to play… suck and blow.” Yuuji snickers now, you giggle at him and roll your eyes, looking over as people are sucking on a debit card, passing it in a circle, you see Gojo there, kissing a girl then, making you blush a bit as they really go at it.

“Oh… that game sounds…”

“Germ ridden.” Megumi declares with a shiver, you snort in laughter then.

“Yes, germ ridden.” You agree, then your heart stops as Sukuna is right in the mix, he’s towering over everyone but Gojo, as he passes the card to and from the girls on either side of him. For some reason, every time you see him you get this feeling, it’s not butterflies, it’s vicious moths, aggressive and beating you. 

Yes, moths you think. Sukuna didn’t give butterflies.

He smirks at you like he just knows something all the time, and nothing could be more irritating. Seeing you now, Gojo shouts your name, waving you three over to the game, the table in front of them was littered with shot glasses and fallen empty cups. “Hey sweets!”

“Satoru, hey!” He gives you a big hug.

“Mwah!” You giggle as he kisses your forehead, Satoru Gojo is a touchy feely friend to damn near everyone, including Sukuna. “Thanks for coming, I know it’s not your scene.”

“I totally snuck out for this, it better be good.” You tease, and Satoru wiggles his brows, brushing back silky white hair, as Sukuna scowls at the gesture. He hated just how touchy he was with the girl Sukuna so secretly pined for.

But you certainly didn’t know he did, in fact Sukuna kept it such a good secret you thought he straight up hated you. Although the picking on you eased up some as you all got older, you’re just getting prettier, sweeter, smarter. You don’t hang out as much with Yuuji, and Sukuna misses you there. He has one class with you and he thinks he’s maybe said a handful of things to you this year.

“You can stand right… here.” Satoru moves another girl over between Yuuji and Megumi, and puts you smack dab between him and Sukuna, making you tense up as you look at him.

“Hah, why her?” Sukuna says then, your fists clench at your sides, Satoru lets out a little laugh.

“Prefer me next to you, baby boy?” He blows a kiss at Sukuna, and he grimaces, earning the laughter of everyone around, except you, feeling just how much Sukuna still can’t stand your presence, for whatever reason.

“God no, okay fine.”

“Yes, I know it's so terrible, huh?” You mumble, Satoru hands you the card then with a smirk.

“No way, you’re the best partner. Get started missy.” You suck on it then, pressing it between your lips and Satoru’s, as each of you passed the card. Along the way it falls across from you, and two people have to make out, everyone else has a drink. You cough just a bit at the burn of this god awful punch you’re sipping then, and Sukuna gives you that sardonic ass look.

“Can’t handle a drink, brat?”

“No, I never have…” He blinks a bit then.

“Oh, shit… why-”

“Pay attention, Sukuna.” Gojo calls, and he turns then, sucking on the card, then bending low, one hand brushing your shoulder as he blows the card on your lips, then you turn and go to blow the card onto Gojo’s as the card clatters to the table.

‘Ooooh’ everyone’s whispering and giggling as Satoru bends low, tilting your chin up to look up into his pretty blue eyes, Sukuna’s fury grows with every second, as he’s never seen you with anyone, thank god.

He could almost pretend you were his, that he didn’t get in his own way, that he doesn’t long after you for every moment of every day until this very moment. When Satoru leans down and kisses you, he feels it like a punch to the gut, something nauseating, seeing his hands on you.

His lips on yours.

Sukuna is downing a shot and having to look away when Satoru’s hand entangles in your hair at the nape of your neck. He’s never wanted so badly till take someone the fuck out, and for what? You’re not his, you probably never would be, it’s not like he has any reason to be this upset. But…

You’re gasping as Satoru kisses you deeply, slipping his tongue in between your lips, and your tummy flutters as he does. Satoru’s breath is sweet, and little does he know yet, he’s your first kiss, then and there in front of countless people. He pulls back with a little smile, his snowy lashes lower over his eyes, as you try to gather yourself, he leans in against your ear.

“You’re a good kisser, sweets.” You smile a bit, laughing breathlessly.

“My first.”

“No way!?” He pulls back and blinks a bit, eyes looking at the huge, furious pink haired man behind you. Satoru smirks mischievously, it’s no secret to him or any of Sukuna’s friends how bad he has it. “I’ll keep it secret.”

Satoru crosses his chest with his fingers in the sign of a cross, and you exhale in relief. “Thank you. Shots?”

“Shots!” You both down shots with everyone, and then Satoru picks up the game again, as you turn just a bit to see Sukuna glaring down at you.

“Something wrong?” You ask curiously, and he laughs then, a mocking sound, shaking his head.

“Why would shit be wrong?”

“Right, you didn’t have to kiss me.” You say with a pat on his arm, and he gulps down more of his drink, before his hand crushes the solo cup.

“Tch.” He says nothing as the card hits him again, and you almost assume it will fall, that he’ll kiss someone, but it doesn’t, not until it hits you, then the card clatters to the fucking ground, leaving you looking up at him wide eyed.

“Oooh, those two!?” Someone says, and everyone stares at you both, it’s obvious Sukuna’s a bully to you, and that you can’t stand him.

“Two kisses in one game already?” Satoru teases, you bite your lip then, looking at Sukuna’s mouth, set in a line.

“You don’t have to.” You say softly, and Sukuna snatches you up against him then, shocking you, your eyes fly to his.

“Think I’m scared, brat?” He whispers.

“I think you don’t want to.” You whisper back, and you expect it, some retort of his, but he slams his lips down on yours, taking over every sense you’ve ever had, tasting your lips and tongue as he devours you then. It’s not sweet and sensual like Satoru, it’s full of everything he’s ever felt, pouring in your lips.

Your hand slides up his arm, across a bicep, thumb brushing it when his two hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer. He kisses you hard and brutal, his hands tightening to a bruising touch as he practically growls into your mouth, his tongue moving against yours. You don’t even know what you’re doing, but it feels all consuming.

It’s wild and fiery, and you can feel his heart slamming in his chest, his breathing heavy as yours come in shallow pants, and it’s like everything stops around you. You can’t remember everyone is watching you, can’t be embarrassed when a hand slips up your spine, and he tilts his head to get better access to your mouth. You can’t hear any of the whispers, not with your heart pounding in your ears.

You don’t know why you’re kissing him back with such fervor, why your arms are wrapped around his neck, the boy you hate, right? The boy who’s made school awful at times, who loves to fuck with you almost every day, you think maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the thrill of it all, but as your kiss ends you know you’re wrong. Kisses don’t feel like this, do they?

He pulls back, damn near ready to tear into you here and there in front of everyone, something feral happening to him, Sukuna has already been with a couple of girls, but he never felt anything more intense than kissing you, then seeing your reddened plump lips, swollen from him. It drives his high school brain absolutely erratic, when he cups your face, looking how small you are compared to him.

He pictures lifting you and-

“Okay, okay… calm down or get a room.” Satoru teases, as Yuuji and Megumi have their jaws on the damn floor. 

Everything is spinning now, not from the alcohol but from that kiss, from the intensity of his emotions crashing into yours. You pull away, panting, and his eyes are so dark then, his pupils dilated with something you’ve never seen before. Is it… desire? Is it… curiosity? It feels like something more… something…

You blush furiously, clearing your throat when you realize you’re just standing there with your mouth open, in front of an entire party. Sukuna doesn’t stop staring at you, in fact he can’t rip his eyes off you, nor does he take his hands off you, as you tremble now, goosebumps where his touch still sits on your skin.

“I need some air… too many kisses.” You manage, before running out then, struggling to get a breath, the tiny amount of alcohol is coursing through your veins, mixing with the heat from Sukuna’s kisses.

You’re inhaling the night air greedily, looking up at the starry sky, shaking your head as you cover your overheated face. You’d kissed Satoru and Sukuna, and Satoru had been so fun, so sweet and exciting. But what the actual heck was that with Sukuna!? What was this feeling you can’t shake, you can’t cope with!?

Sukuna dies to go after you, to finish everything he started, to kiss your face, your neck, perhaps more if you were ready. He would be happy just kissing you though, nothing else, if you offered just that, because he’s never felt it. Satoru, Suguru and his other friends are all snickering at him now.

“Go after her, Romeo.” Suguru says, and Sukuna glares at him.

“What? Why?”

“C’mon man, we all saw. Looked like you’d eat her.” Satoru says.

“In more ways than one?” Suguru chimes in, earning Sukuna’s angry glare, he shakes his head then. “Oh stop this… she’s hot, why not go for it?”

“She’s the bane of my existence. A kiss doesn’t change that.”

“She’s available then?” Satoru asks teasingly, as you’re walking back up, getting a drink poured by Nobara.

“Of course she is… it was just a kiss in a game.” You hear him then, and Nobara instantly has her hand comfortingly on your back.

“Don’t pay attention, he clearly was into you.” She murmurs, Satoru eyes you both then, before looking back at Sukuna.

“So if I ask her out you’re cool with it buddy?” He teases with a big grin.

“If you what!?”

“Mmm, ask her out. If you don’t even like her that way?” Sukuna sputters now, and everyone’s whispering about him, about the kiss.

“Why ask me?” He huffs with disdain, and you quietly join back in, this time on the other side of Satoru, Sukuna notices it furiously, making a show of kissing the next girl as the card drops again.

You hate how you feel about it, about him.

As you’re dancing later with Satoru, you watch him sitting on the couch with two girls on his lap, but his eyes are laser focused on you, every motion you make with your hips in a figure eight motion. You feel his eyes like a brand on your skin, like he’s undressing you with them, but he doesn’t come near you, you’re both just across the room, with the energy between you.

The amount of times Sukuna replays this in his mind over and over, the kiss that destroyed him. But instead of telling you how he feels, he says nothing, watching as you move on, and as he pretends he is as well, but is he really? Will he ever be?

*****

You’re remembering the kiss vividly, Sukuna watches your eyes go fuzzy, as you both pull up to his place. You just sit there, nervously shiting in his lap. “Those were… my first kisses. Isn’t that insane?”

“What was insane was that I wanted to kill him for kissing you, I wanted to kill anyone who touched you, kissed you.”

“You did?” You ask softly, he nods then, smirking just a bit.

“Best kiss I had.”

“What!?”

“I should have told you. Not acted like…

“A dick?”

“That mouth, brat.” He is glaring as you giggle. “I acted like I didn’t care, but I did… and your bratty ass dated Satoru after that!?”

“Well, he was sweet and asked me out. What’d you expect me to wait for you to figure it out?”

“Yes.” You both laugh softly then, his strokes up and down your spine making you long for more and more of him, every bit of his body, his touch, his heart.

“Three stories down, why don’t I…” You trail your fingers down his dress shirt, over his rippling abdomen. “Return that favor?”

“Killing me, brat.” He exhales, and soon you’re kissing in his elevator, as you ride up to his fancy penthouse, your breath catching at it. “Ya like?”

“Damn, you’re like rich!?”

Sukuna throws his head back, sliding his jacket off you then, eyeing your skin hungrily, thinking of all the ways he wants to kiss it, bite it, taste it. “Yeah, I’m fucking rich.”

“So humble too.”

“Why should I be? Fuck that.” He then hands you a glass of water, making your eyes narrow.

“Rich as fuck and I get water!?”

“It’s Evian.”

“Psh, where’s the liquor stash?”

He brushes your hair back then, gently. “Want you fully aware for the last two stories, yeah? Then you can have another if you want.”

“Yes, dad.” You tease, then his nostrils flare, making your lips turn up as you watch his reaction. “You like to be called Daddy don’t ya, freaky Kuna?”

Sukuna’s scowl just deepens, as he crosses his arms. “Oh shut that mouth, swear to god.”

“Shut me up- mnh!” Sukuna’s grabbed you right under your chin, squeezing your throat just so, as his free hand grips your ass.

“You listen to this one, I’ll let you suck me. And the last one, I’ll finally lick that pretty pussy.” You whine when he finds your slick heat over your panties, everything going just a little fuzzy. “Fuck you in positions you’ve never heard of.”

“All talk.” He lets you go, shaking his head, kissing you deeply again, you are falling into it, into how good he feels, letting it all surround you.

“Ya know I’m not, admit it.”

“Shush.” You take your water with a shaky hand, drinking it then.

“Good girl.”

Good girl!?

You can’t handle that from him, can’t handle the heat pouring between your thighs, in your tummy, making you ache for him more and more. “This story was about a time you didn’t have water, and you were all over me.”

You draw a blank then, shaking your head. “Psh, what!?”

“Mmhmm. Come, sit down.” He guides you over to an elegant living room, with a spacious black couch, everything sleek and modern, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the night sky.

“Beautiful.” You murmur softly, touching the clear glass for just a moment, he comes up behind you, kissing across your neck.

“I’ll fuck you on this window, let everyone have a show.”

“What!?”

“Let ‘em know you’re mine this time.”

“Sukuna!” You are dragged to the couch, sat down right next to him, his arm around you.

“Sip more water. So thirsty.”

“I really hate you.”

“You say that…”

“Yeah.” He tilts your chin up with two fingers, pressing his lips over yours over and over, little sweet kisses you don’t expect. “Mmm, so… remember your first frat party?”

“Barely! Oh shit I think I got drunk.”

“Oh yeah you did.

*****

The fourth time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, your senior year HS, his Freshman year college (Kuna age 19, Y/N age 18)

“Y’know… S-Sukuna… fuck you’re kinda hot!?” You’re stumbling as you speak to Sukuna that night, dressed in some mini skirt and crop top, showing everything. You make him furious, showing that body that seems to get prettier every year, the top showcasing far too much of your pretty breasts, the skirt showing too much of your sexy thighs.

Thighs he’d die to have wrapped around his head.

“What now, brat?” He demands, and you giggle, clearly shitfaced, you never partied so you’re an insane lightweight. And your friend is currently making out in a corner, leaving you stumbling over to him in heels that make no sense for you, for the girl he’s known so long. “What’s with the skank fit?”

“Fuck you I’m hot.” You giggle, doing a spin, and then nearly falling, Sukuna catches you with an arm around your waist, warm body pressed against his.

“That alcohol spiking that confidence?”

“Jus’ because you don’t think- m’hot doesn’t mean… m’not k?” You toss down your drink, giggling breathlessly, looking up at him with dilated eyes.

“When have I said you’re not?” He asks softly, guiding you away from the crowd, from the eyes of too many hungry frat boys. You somehow end up on his lap, arms around his neck, giggling and scrunching that cute ass nose of yours.

“You’ve said m’pretty like once. In middle school? Thass it, Kuna.”

“God, don’t call me that, drunky.” He brushes your hair back then, and you pause, inhaling just a bit, sudden clarity in a brief drunk haze. “You’re the prettiest brat there is, yeah? You’re gonna forget this. So fuck it.”

“The prettiest brat?” You repeat, and he smiles, nodding, before hissing when you shift, straddling him.

“The fuck are you doing!?” He demands, hands pressing on your waist, while you lean your face low, breath against his lips.

“Jus- wanna kiss. Or more… always wanted you to be-”

“Shh, stop.” He puts a hand on your mouth, shaking his head. “You’re shitfaced, don’t go saying dumb shit.”

You lick at his palm, giggling again, moving your hips, he feels your heat against his cock over his jeans, making him throb then. He was no virgin, far from it, but you make him blush. You make him tremble, and he hates this effect, that you so casually have, and don’t even know you possess.

Since he met you, you’ve done things to him, things that have him jerking it to images of you, memories of you. Practicing all the ways he’d take that virginity of yours back in the day, knowing he was a fucking idiot. Thinking of how he’s stretch that surely tight little hole, how he’s make you his.

But you dated boys, he dated girls.

You lived your life in your lane, he lived his.

You both rarely crossed, aside from your friendship with his brother and mutual friends, he doesn’t think he’d see you. He barely does now, and the way you’re looking at him addles his mind, short circuits his brain chemistry. God the things he wants to do with you…

But…

“You’re trashed.”

“I’m pretty to you.” You murmur, lips far too close, he can practically taste jello shots on you.

“You are.” He figures fuck it, what’s it matter?

You won’t remember.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, finally, after so many years, and you blink rapidly, sobering up almost it seemed, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks as they lower, as you take a breath.

“You think so?” You whisper.

“I know so, fuck who doesn’t?” He holds you still when you wiggle. “Don’t fucking do that, please.”

“Don’t wanna fuck me, Kuna? Don’t you fuck whoever?”

“Fuck you…” He trails off. Fucking you isn’t what he’d do, and he damn well knows it too well.

He’d lose himself in you.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, hmm?” He asks, husky voice breaking.

“What do you think?” You grind on him, his head falls back, moaning as you kiss up his throat, making his hands grip you bruising. “Haven’t I wanted to for s’long, Kuna… wanted y’inside me…”

“Shut the fuck up.” He shoves at you again, ruby eyes narrowing as he looks at your flushed cheeks and glittery eyes. “You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“So you need to get home. Nobara.” She looks up at the shout of her name, eyes wide when she sees you, gently pulling you now.

“Come on baby.”

“No, he wants me, look at him.” You giggle again, and Nobara can’t stop the smirk on her face.

“He does, but… you’re too tired, yeah?” You look at her, then Sukuna, yawning then and nodding as she eases you up.

“Am I?”

“You are. Say goodnight, remember you can’t stand Sukuna, yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” You blink again, stumbling against your friend, Sukuna’s hand cups your face gently.

“Good night, drunk brat.” He kisses your head, shocking you even in your drunk state, before looking at Nobara. “Got a ride?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Sukuna…” She whispers then.

“Hmm?”

“Just let her go if you don’t want to be with her. She deserves more than this… pining away for you.” Sukuna gulps at Nobara’s words.

“I…”

“She’s amazing, you know.”

“Yeah, I fucking know. Trust me.” She sighs, as you snuggle to her, blissfully unaware of the conversation, just mumbling how good Nobara smells.

“She wants to go to another university, but she’ll go here to see you. Let. Her. Go.” Sukuna watches you stumble away, feeling it like a knife to his chest.

God it was difficult to let you go, but were you wasting your chances for someone like him?

*****

“I literally don’t remember it…” You murmur softly then, while Sukuna’s fingers run lazily over your shoulders, sipping more water. “I think I remember sitting on your lap but it’s a blur?”

“Yeah, it was… hard…”

You’re laughing then. “Sorry!”

“Hard in many ways, sure. To turn this down?” You heat up under his praise now, so open for you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Look at you.” You’re kissing him then, again, you could just keep kissing Sukuna, forever and ever you feel like. Like nothing could rip you from him, when you’re straddling his lap like that night, and he’s exhaling against your lips.

“What was the thing you should’ve said?” You whisper, rolling your hips, grinding your pussy on his shaft, he groans, kissing down the plump curve of your breast, sinking his teeth and making your head fall back.

“I did say it…” He grins, looking at the little teeth marks in your skin.

“Wh-what was it?”

“That you’re beautiful, and fuck you are.” You whimper when he yanks down your top, revealing your puffy nipples, taut and perky with want. “Oh my… fuck…”

He’s sucking one into his hot mouth now, your hands entangled in pastel locks, hips rocking for more and more, he’s dying to sink into you, and you’re dying for him to fill you. “Thank you, Kuna… and… did I say anything that…”

“You kept saying how hot I am.”

“You are, fuck you are. Sexiest man I’ve seen.”

“Damn, simp much?”

“Hate you!” You shove at him and he’s chuckling, kissing back down your breasts, sighing.

“You don’t hate me, shut it. Should we put that mouth to better fucking use?” He asks, and you nod eagerly. “You’re gonna obey that easily? Want it so bad?”

“Oh fuck you and your stories.” You slip down, one knee on one side of him, as you unzip him slowly, he hisses when his cock juts out of the jeans, of his boxers, so heavy and thick. You pause briefly, blushing when you see it, a tattoo around the base of his fucking cock, and a piercing on the tip.

“Cat got your tongue, slut?”

“Slut? You have a slutty tattoo on your slutty dick. And this? This…” You moan then, kneeling between his thighs spread, looking up at him so pretty then his heart flips in his chest, he’s as nervous if not more than he was when he was a virgin. Looking how beautiful you are, face resting on his thigh.

“Then put this slutty cock in your slutty mouth, huh?” You eagerly do as he says, taking him into your mouth slowly, teasing the piercing with your tongue, tasting his precum, salty and bitter, coating your tastebuds. “Mmgh, yeah, like that, pretty little whore.”

His words really should infuriate you, but you love it, jerking his hips up as you suck harder, faster, feeling his hands tighten in your hair, and god he’s losing his fucking mind, and it’s all because of you.

You love it, love the way he’s looking at you with lidded ruby eyes, as he fucks up into your mouth, alternating between gently cupping your cheek and shoving your throat down on his cock, all while looking at you. His eyes never leave your face, you hear his breaths, feel him tense. It’s intoxicating, feeling his cock swell and pulse in your mouth, feeling his eyes on you, watching you take him deep.

“So pretty, look at you, taking cock s’good. S’hungry for it, huh?” He’s mumbling now, trying to be so sure, so dominating of you, and he does, but he’s vulnerable, as your little fingers press against his thighs, as you’re sucking him so deeply. You breathe through your nose, feeling him get harder, impossibly harder, as you take him more and more.

Your cunt is pulsing around nothing, thinking of everything you’ve wanted, listening to him mumbling praise, watching that red streak from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. To make Sukuna blush was something so heady you couldn’t explain it, not as you keep sucking, as you slip his dress shirt up just a bit, revealing the hard, perfect planes of his abdomen.

“Fuck, you’re good at that, hmm?” He whispers, his eyes half lidded, his voice gruff and rough, so fucking sexy, and you moan around his cock, nodding. He’s so fucking big and it’s a struggle to take him all in, but you’re keep trying to, go even deeper, watching his breath hitch, his hips buck upwards. He keeps whispering your name until he yanks you off.

“Lemme suck you off, Kuna.” You plead, and he laughs insanely now, shaking his head as he looks down at you.

“Ya gotta be that good at this!? I’m mad you ever sucked anyone.” He grumbles, glaring now, you pout as he pulls you off, hands firm on your ass when he sits you back on him, and now he’s adjusting himself back in.

“Really!? Not another story, Kuna… I need to tell you my own shit.” You murmur, he puts a finger to your lips, shaking his head.

“I’m almost done, last story yeah? Then…” He rubs your cunt over your panties, so damp they’re sticking to your plump lips pathetically. “Then I’ll make her feel so fucking good, so good I promise.”

“You suck.” You say with a pout, earning another smirk as you try to catch your breath, leaning back against him. “Okay, one more, and only one.”

“You’re such a little-”

“Kuna…”

“A little… pretty ass bitchy ass-”

“Sukuna, I swear to god I’ll hit you.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow.

“You’re a little bitch.”

“Swear to-”

“I should go.”

“You aren’t going any fucking where. C’mere.” He yanks you back down, as you huff in anger. “I’ll give her what she needs, have some patience. All fuckin night and day, just wait a little longer, huh?”

“F-fine.” You look down demurely, as Sukuna sighs, shutting his eyes.

“The last time we saw each other. Remember?”

“Shit…”

*****

The fifth time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, your Sophomore year of college, his Junior (Kuna 21, Y/N 20)

You weren’t even in the same college as Sukuna, but you still saw him, from time to time. You were close with Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara, and that meant sometimes seeing Sukuna, a girl on either side of him as he’s throwing pong balls into cups, and everyone is cheering for him.

Jock Sukuna.

Frat leader Sukuna.

Asshole hoe ass Sukuna.

You resent him, you hate it but you do, he’s popular and still somehow a huge asshole, he hasn’t changed a damn bit and people fawned over him, girls were all lining up for their turn, all except you. You’re glad you went to a different university, even if you missed your friends, it means you got to miss him being such a whore blatantly in front of the world.

He kissed one, then the other, like they’re both his girlfriends, chuckling until he catches sight of you.

You.

You make his heart race, wanting to thump right out of his fucking chest, tightening it so bad he can’t breathe for a moment. You’re in this gorgeous little dress, too fancy and pretty for some stupid ass frat party. He watches the eyes of everyone on you avidly as you smile, starting to get surrounded by his curious frat brothers, making his murder instincts kick into high gear.

When would everyone figure out you’re his? Shit, when would either of you figure it out, that this is what it was?

That he was in love with you.

That he’s been in love with you, since the first day you ran into the hall, over ten years back, when you’d had hurt in your eyes and your lower lip trembled. Loved you every minute of every day, and every day he falls deeper and deeper into being an idiot, drowning you away with cheap beer and endless annoying girls. Girls he couldn’t care less about, but they were safe bets.

They weren’t you.

Your eyes catch his across the room, sipping on your drink then, smiling up as your friends come to talk to you. Sukuna has maybe seen you three times this entire year, and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t miss, god he misses picking on you, he misses that scowl you give him, the way you cross your arms.

He leaves the girls next to him, much to their dismay, walking up to you now, and your lips part as your drink sits just a bit down by your side, looking up at him with eyes that haunt his every fucking dream. Your body looks so good he can’t help but picture it naked in every position under him, while he says your name softly.

“Hey, Sukuna.” You manage to sound casual, while he’s shirtless, his already chiseled body buffer than you remember, tattoos already on his abdomen and wrists, ones that weren’t there before, that just make him sexier.

Fuck Sukuna.

Fuck him for being all you think about even now, when you have college, a part time job, a whole life. And you lay there, and think of him, picture him in ways that make you touch yourself, not knowing he’s jerking it in his dorm room to you, sometimes simultaneously, but of course neither of you has figured any of it out.

Clueless.

“You should… play?” He suggests, your brows draw together in confusion.

“Why are you being friendly?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You sigh then, shaking your head and walking away, making his jaw clench. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” You stomp away, and Sukuna chases you, into a room now, shutting the door behind you, you peek around and realize you’re somehow in his room when you see the familiar things you’ve seen his whole life. His game system, his guitar… his collection of panties? “Jesus.”

“Yeah it’s a thing we do.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, and you shake your head, turning to look up at him.

“Does it make you feel cool? Fucking the cheerleading squad?”

“Maybe it does. What do you care!?”

“I don’t.”

“Good.” He says.

“Good.” You agree, then you’re on each other, kissing each other hungrily, his hands gripping your ass, as you drink his moans.

“Why do you gotta act like this?”

“Like what, not easy?” You whisper, pulling back, and he groans, down on his knees suddenly, making you gasp, as he’s just a breath away from your hot, eager little pussy, lifting your skirt and moaning when he sees the damp spot. “What… are…”

“Lemme finally shut you the fuck up, brat.” He whispers, yanking them to the side just as the door tumbles open, you jerk back so fast as giggling girls pour in. “Don’t… get off me, fuck.” He’s shouting your name, chasing you, but you can’t get out of there fast enough.

What were you about to do!?

“Come back, fuck!” He’s yanking you by your wrist, and you scowl up at him. “Just let me… we’ll get a room, or…”

“No, thank god they came in. I’m an idiot, I have been. Down to be a notch in your stupid bedpost.”

“You’d never be-”

“Good bye Sukuna.” You leave him with watery eyes and a trembling lip, and he hates you more.

*****

You both sit there, staring at each other then, quietly, so much left unsaid over so many years, so much between you both. Your breaths make both of your chests rise and fall, while you wait with bated breath, feeling every bit of his energy consuming you, still tasting him on your lips, his pants still unzipped, your dress still tugging down your breasts just so.

“I was harsh.”

“Nah, you were real with me.”

“What did you want to say, then?” You ask quietly, and Sukuna curses, standing then, walking you back more and more until your shoulder blades hit the cool glass of his window, and you gasp, looking up at him. His gaze is hungry, it’s intense, looking right through you, seeing you. All of you.

“What I should have said, so many times… is that… I fucking love you, okay? In love with you. Stupid in love. Down bad like a little bitch.”

“What!?”

“You really couldn’t fucking tell!?”

You try to process his words, shaking your head now, tears welling up as the emotions hit you. “Like… in love?”

“Didn’t I say it, brat? Ya want some one knee shit, it’ll be eating your pussy, like I should have that night.” He murmurs, and soon he’s kissing you, hungry, desperate, hands touching every inch of you he can. “Love you, brat. Always have.”

“Sukuna…”

“Shh.” He turns you then, unzipping your dress, big hands darting across your back, your waist, your hips, turning you then to face him, leaving you in nothing but soaked panties and a lacy bra. “Should’ve told you, I love you. You’re beautiful, so beautiful you fucking wreck me.”

“Kuna…” He’s moaning again, red eyes bright as he rips your bra off, revealing your pretty breasts to his hungry gaze, cupping them, resting his forehead on yours.

“I was a fucking ass to you, a dick. A bully. A shit.”

“Kuna…”

“Shut up. You don’t have to feel the same, it can just be a fuck if you want, I’ll give you anything.” You’re whimpering, when he’s kneeling, just like that night, his breath hot against your inner thigh, when he runs calloused fingers down your soft skin, eliciting a cry. “I’ll let you fuck my face and thank you, make me so pathetic.”

“Sukuna!” You shout finally, yanking at his hair, pulling his head back to look at you, and he exhales now.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too, you idiot.” He pauses, heart slamming in his chest, and you just nod weakly, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I’ve always loved you, mean ass.”

“Fuck…” He rips your panties off.

“They’re expensive!”

“I’ll buy you all the ones you want, slutty fucking brat. Put this pretty pussy on my goddamn face, now.” He orders, lifting a thigh, swiping a stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, making you scream out, head falling back against the window he’s so shamelessly eating you out against. “Taste so goddamn good, fuck you.”

“F-fuck you, Kuna… just… will you… ah!” He smacks your pussy then, glaring up at you, as you manage a little pathetic scowl.

“Shut it brat, now. Lemme take my time, shit.” He’s back down there, parting your plump lips, dying at just how pretty your pussy is, how the wetness is just oozing. He sips up the syrupy wetness with the tip of his tongue, moaning at your taste, before slipping up to your clit, slowly circling.

“Mnph!” You’re barely able to make a noise, when Sukuna buries his face against you, nose bumping your little twitchy clit, tongue slipping up into your hole, as his hands squish your thighs, pinning you in place. “Ah!”

You feel that grin against you as he sips you up, drinking you, youre eyes are rolling, back, fucking toes curling as he nips your clit then with his sharp teeth, eliciting a slutty moan from your throat. “That’s it, cum all over m’face, slutty lil fuckin brat.”

You can’t even retort, you can’t function when his tongue is flicking the underside of your clit, and he’s watching you with those bright red eyes under those pastel lashes, working you so well you can barely stand. You’re gasping, gripping his hair so hard you’re pulling it, only making his cock harder for you, your eyes shut when you earn another wet smack on your cunt.

“Ah-ah,look at me when I’m eating you out, brat. I wanna see you fall apart f’me, just me, only me.” Sukuna’s possessive words and another smack earn you looking down at him, eyes locking with his. “Ha, that’s it.”

His tongue is flicking and pressing against your clit, when he curls two fingers up inside your gummy walls, cum drooling down his black painted nails, all the way to his rolex watch, cold against your heated skin as he pumps and pumps. “M’gonna… oh my g-god…”

“That’s it, cum like a pretty lil’ fuckin whore, hmm? Just f’me.” He orders, filthy words spitting from his mouth when he curls his fingers just so inside your soppy little cunt, and you shatter then as he works you like he’s always known you, sucking your little clit in his hot mouth.

“Kuna!” You scream out his name as you come, thighs trembling around his neck, eyes rolling back in your skull, panting when he fucks you with his fingers even faster, pushing you from one orgasm into another. “Too much!”

He doesn’t relent, he’s fingering and devouring you simultaneously until you’re a weak, pathetic mess, sweat making your hair stick to your brow, you’re trembling and shaking as it makes you see stars. You’re not even holding yourself up anymore, he’s got an arm around your hips, moaning against you.

“Sukuna, I l-love you.” You mumble weakly, and he chuckles, tickling your oversensive cunt.

“I know you do, baby.” He whispers back, kissing your inner thigh, licking your pussy clean of all your cum before he stands, and you’re taking off his dress shirt with shaky fingers, so shaky he smacks at them. “Can’t even function huh?”

“F-fuck off…” You can’t function, though, you can’t form a coherent thought in an already fucked out brain as he rips off that damn shirt, showing a buff, perfect body, littered in new tattoos you haven’t even seen. He’s quick to get naked, and pick you right up in his arms like you’re nothing. “H-here!?”

“Everyone already got a show.” He smirks, tip nudging your soppy entrance, you’re shivering as you cling to his shoulders, whining desperately. “Wanna give em a better show? Want everyone to see you dripping my cum?”

“Yes.” At your husky admission he grins.

“Slutty little brat. Oh my… fuck…” He can’t take it, when he starts to press inside you, and you’re screaming out at the stretch, as he feels your slick cunt grip him like a vise. “You’re s-so f-fucking…”

“Fuck me, please, please.” You beg, tears in your eyes now, and Sukuna won’t deny you shit, not when you’re begging so pretty, no he fucks into you, hard, thrusting his cock so deep his tip kisses your cervix. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god.” He moans right with you, exhaling as he looks into your glassy, dilated eyes, so dilated all he sees are the outer rings of your irises when he sinks so deep in your eager pussy. “Ya feel like this, the whole time could’ve been putting babies in this?”

“Kuna!? The f- y-yes! Yes!” You’re screaming as he pounds his cock, so thick it’s stretching you out so hard it hurts, it burns, wearing you down with each pump, the sounds of your slutty cunt echoing in his immaculate fucking penthouse. You’re cumming before he can play with your clit, something that’s never happened, he hits so hard you don’t even need it.

When you cum, pulsing all around him he tenses, pulling then, setting you on the floor and turning you, pressing your tits against the glass as he bends down, lifting your ass up and fucking into you, your hands leaving prints on spotless glass. He’s moaning as his muscles flex, as he pumps his thick, long cock so deep, and you’re throwing your head back, screaming.

“That’s it, again baby, lemme feel your slutty fucking cunt grip me.” He huffs, leaning over the glass and fucking into you, two hands gripping your hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples of your back, as he rails you harder and harder. You’re gasping, twitching, unable to even stand, practically falling on the glass overlooking the night sky.

When Sukuna’s gotten another orgasm, he pulls out again, carrying you like you’re nothing until you’re in his bed, and he’s climbing on top of you, so intimate in this moment, cock drooling with your drippy wetness. He’s entwining a hand with yours, the other grabbing his cock, putting it back inside, your already sore little hole, and you gasp, clinging to him.

“S’good… s’good I…” You can’t form a word, when he’s pressing your thighs up higher and higher, watching the bulge in your tummy at his huge cock wrecking you, making him harder, his precum pouring, cock twitching.

“That’s it, cunt screamin’ just f’me, fuckin’ hear it huh?” Sukuna whispers, eyes and face practically feral, fucking you harder, deeper, as he presses your thighs until you’re folded in half under him. “Answer me, huh? Too fucked out?”

“F-fuck… y-you… K-Kuna you- yes!” You’re whimpering out when he pounds his cock even deeper, and you hear it, the squelching wetness of your soaking cunt, the slap of his balls on your ass, as his face drips sweat right down onto your own, and you’re crying it feels so good.

“Crying sexy!? Is anything ya do not sexy… slutty brat… swear I’ll ruin you for fuckin anyone, yeah?” You just nod weakly, sniffling when Sukuna cups your face between his huge hands, pounding deeper and deeper in your hole, and he’s finally slowing, laughing. “Milking me?”

“Whass that… Kuna…” Your words are jumbled as the man you’ve loved forever beats your poor little cunt up, as he fucks velvety walls until they’re aching, rubbing your walls so good, hitting just that fucking spot, over and over, ridge of that drooly tip sending you.

“That’s it, can’t help yourself, can you? So pathetic, c-can’t stop cummin…” He’s huffing now, leaning over you, so big and strong you feel so damn tiny under him, his power, the way he moves, the way he fucks you like he owns your pussy.

“Ngh…” You can’t speak anymore, it’s all sounds, whines, whimpers.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, gonna be dripping me for days huh? Want me to, don’t ya brat?” He holds your thighs up so high you could hardly breathe, as he works your cunt harder, grinding against you when his tip bruises your cervix. “Answer me, now, use those words.”

“Fill me, please.” You whisper, and he moans, smirking then, leaning so that his lips are a breath away.

“Want me to breed that slutty pussy?”

“Yes.” Sukuna folds then, busting so deep in your cunt, filling you to the brim with his endless spurts of hot cum, until you can’t stand it, so hot and full, you feel Sukuna fucking everywhere. He’s still pumping now, kissing you, moaning his pleasure as your thighs shake against him.

“That’s it, taking it so good aren’t ya baby? Cunt so eager. Slutty.” You just nod weakly, and he laughs. “That's how I shut you up? Could have been doing it.”

“You love my mouth.” You counter, earning his chuckle, when he finally eases your thighs down, kissing you just a bit softer, your nails that have been pressing and leaving marks on his back relaxes now, as you both breathe together, slower and slower.

“I do love it.”

“You love me.”

“Don’t get too annoying about it.” You giggle, and he adores the way your nose scrunches. “Fucking cute.”

“Yeah?” He nods, finally admitting it, what’s been in his heart so long he doesn’t know how he handled it, the lightness he feels of you knowing is so amazing he can’t put it in words.

“Yeah.” Is all he says for now, kissing you again. Soon he’s in the shower with you, ‘cleaning’ you, as he’s drinking your pussy right up on his knees, as the hot spray falls down.

Then, Sukuna is fucking you right on his shower wall, and you’re clinging to him desperately, as his cock works you in ways you could have never known. “Gonna forget anything, anyone, just me, brat.” He huffs in your ear.

Later, it’s no longer Valentine’s day, shit it’s maybe three am? But Sukuna isn’t done with your pussy, no he’s far from it, having you on your hands and knees on his bed as he fucks you, slapping your ass over and over, leaving hand prints. Then he’s prone bone over you, wrapping long fingers around your throat, squeezing as you gasp and cum all over his cock.

“Put a fuckin baby in ya, huh? Want that, don’t ya?” He’s huffing that morning, not like either of you have slept, and he’s laying behind you, you were supposed to cuddle but Sukuna has catching up to do with you, so he’s cradling you, fucking you with your one leg up over his thigh.

“Want it… want it…” You’re throwing your head back, while he’s fucking one load of cum out and pumping more into you, until you’re a sobbing mess, and Sukuna could still go, but you’re passing out, weak and snuggling him.

“You’re so… beautiful.” He whispers as you snore lightly, before rolling his eyes. “And annoying.”

“Hmm.” You mumble, when he shoves at you, and your eyes adjust to the man you’ve always loved, smiling just a little soft for a moment. “You love me.”

“Shut it brat. Stop snoring or I’ll kick you out.” You just giggle, kissing him.

“Shh. Love you Kuna.” You murmur, falling asleep on his chest, feeling for the first time in forever like the puzzle pieces have fallen together, and Sukuna watches you until his heavy eyes knock him out with you, snoring even louder than you. When you wake to him eating your pussy, all puffy and sore, you wonder just what you’re in for.

“Taste us, fuck.” He drinks you up, leaning over, spitting in your mouth then, you gasp at it, at his insane grin. “Taste s’yummy, huh?”

“How about g’morning, hmm?” You manage, coughing just a bit, and he’s nudging his broad shoulders back between your thighs.

“Nah, fuck that.” He buries his face against your pussy, your hands entangling in his messy locks, back arching.

“Please.” You whisper, soon he’s working over you, hand wrapping your throat, as he shoves that thick cock in your sore little pussy over and over, until you’re both losing the day in each other.

And that was the last time Sukuna tried to confess his feelings, but this time it worked, and you felt the same the entire time

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[enwoso]

FINDING HER WAY BACK HOME | alessia russo

i’m sure someone requested something with lotte and foxy from college era but i can no longer find the request or maybe i dreamt it idk but if not here it it anyways!

grumpy masterlist

alessia leaned back against the dorm room couch, her hand resting on her small bump as she watch lotte and emily animatedly discuss their future plans.

"i'm telling you," lotte said, pausing for a moment as both girls waiting for her to continue, "arsenal is where i'm heading after here. best club in england!"

emily rolled her eyes, "your so biased, arsenal's good sure but if you're really aiming for the best, you'd look across the pond. nwsl has the edge in-."

"emilyy, not again" alessia interrupted, laughing as she dragged out emily's name.

emily smirked, "fine but i'm staying in the u.s. anyway at least for now. but mark my words we'll all end up in london one day, we'll sign with a club together. it'll be epic"

"deal" alessia said softly, looking between her two best friends. "i don't care what club we're at as long as we're together again."

lotte grinned, "you'll have to hold out the talks with manchester united until you're ready to come back though."

"yeah, the deal with them is still early days" alessia said a wistful smile crossing her face. she loved the idea of returning to england and playing there but for now, football felt like a distant dream.

she had other priorities now - a tiny, growing priority who was going to depend on her for everything.

emily leaned forward, her serious side kicking in, "oh, speaking of priorities, less have you taken your prenatal vitamins today?"

a small groan came from the blonde, this had been the same conversation she would have with the american everyday. she wouldn't forget. "yes, emily"

"and the iron supplements? you've been looking pale the last couple of days."

"wow thanks em, but yeah i have"

"and you're drinking enough water?"

"yes, emily!" alessia said, exasperated but unable to hide her smile, her heart warming at the fact of how caring her friends were over her now.

emily raised an eyebrow, "don't 'yes emily' me you were standing for like two hours at that student center thing yesterday. you've got to take it easy less!"

lotte snorted, "your like her personal midwife"

"somebody has to be!" emily shot back, tossing a pillow at lotte as she giggled on, "she's carrying out honorary niece or nephew. i take my duties very seriously!"

—

after a long morning, and a few teary goodbyes mainly saying goodbye to lotte and emily who walked alessia to the further point they could in the airport before sharing a group hug, promising one another that they'd see each other soon.

alessia was finally settling into her seat on the plane, rummaging through her carry-on, pulling out the book emily had packed for her.

as she opened the front cover she noticed a bright pink sticky note with emily's neat handwriting sprawled on it.

‘make sure you drink water every hour, you're already bad enough at this on the ground, don't make me come 30,000 feet and lecture you! safe flight lessi.’ emily

a small laugh bubbled up despite her exhaustion, emily had never let up since the the moment alessia told them and alessia could never not be grateful for the two.

a couple hours later, the flight going somewhat smoothly apart from the fact alessia was finding it rather difficult to get comfy, as she kept having to get up every half hour to use the bathroom. luckily she was on the isle seat..

as the flight attendants handed out complimentary snacks, alessia reached into her own bag for her own stash she'd bought in the airport. as she unwrapped the granola bar another little sticky note fluttered out.

the one had a messier scrawl of letters on it, accompanied with a doodle of a football. alessia immediately knowing it was from lotte.

‘granola bar = good. chocolate = bad. unless you want me and em to tell your little one that their mum broke all the rule, only kidding. take care of yourself, okay? we love you.’ lotte<3.

shaking her head with a smile, alessia carefully folded the note and slipped it back into her bag. her journey back home continued as she found more and more notes that the two girls had hidden in her bag in unexpected places.

reminder to stretch her legs.

a reminder to take her vitamins (no guesses needed to guess who that one was off..)

a reminder to have a nap.

but finally she found a small handwritten card tucked into the side pocket of her bag, where she kept her headphones. the note being from both of them:

‘alessia, we're so proud of you. we can't even begin to imagine how hard this is for you but you're the strongest person we know. and we know that your little one is so lucky to have you as their mum, and we're are so lucky we get to have you as our best friend. don't forget we're only a call away — no matter what the time it is. this isn't a goodbye, just a see you soon. we love you so much! lotte and emily <3'

tears filled her eyes as she read their loving words. holding the note tightly as she pressed it to her chest, overwhelmed by the love and support they had shown her. looking up at the time left on her flight: ten minutes and she'd ben home.

—

when alessia finally stepped through the arrivals gate in london. her body ached for her own bed from the long flight and her mind was foggy with fatigue. yet her heart leapt when she saw her family waiting for her.

her brothers were the first to reach her, gio stood tall with a big grin on his face as he pulled her carry on from her hand. "what's this? didn't they charge you extra for the snacks you probably smuggled on board?"

"or is it baby stuff already?" luca added with a smirk, reaching to grab the trolley with her suitcases on, "bibs and tiny shoes?"

"hilarious" alessia said rolling her eyes playfully. normally she'd fire back with a quick comment of her own but she was simply too tired to engage as she let out a breathy laugh and muttered, "just make yourself useful and carry my bags would you?"

her lack of a witty retort made both her brothers pause, gio nudging luca with his elbow. "she'd either growing up or she's too jet lagged to care?"

"one hundred percent the second one," luca quipped back quickly.

mario was standing slightly behind them, giving her a warm smile as he silently pulled her into a hug. alessia closing her eyes as she leaned into his steady presence.

when he released her from the hug, he took one look at her tired face and gestured towards the doors of the airport, “let’s get you home, you can sleep in the car”

but before they could move any further, carol appearing rushing forward to envelop alessia into her arms.”

“oh my baby!” she cried, happy tears already spilling down her cheeks. her hands immediately going to alessia’s six month bump

“look at you, you’re glowing. are you eating enough? have you been taking those vitamins i told you about? and oh- names! have you thought about any yet? what about james or izzy? or-”

“mum,” alessia said with a tired laugh her voice soft but affectionate, “i’m too tired to think of names right now”

her mum wasn’t deterred, as she looped her arm through alessia’s and began walking in the direction of the car, her chatter filling the quiet night.

“that’s okay, we can talk about it tomorrow. did you know your gran suggested peter? i told her absolutely not and then your aunt said olivia, but that’s..” alessia let her mum’s voice wash over her, a small smile tugged at her lips.

she was home.

the drive back to kent alessia’s head was leant against the cool glass of the car window the air cool and a lot less sticky than the hot air from the states as alessia’s eyes half closed.

her brothers keeping up a low and playful banter next to her as mario hummed softly to the radio as he drove. carol keeping a watchful eye on alessia from the corner of her eye the entire way.

when they finally pulled into the familiar driveway of her childhood home, alessia felt a wave of emotion rise in her chest. her family bustled around her, her brothers unloading her bags as her dad quietly set up a spot for her to sit in the living room. her mum of course already started to plan where they were going to go for breakfast.

alessia sat back, her hand resting on her bump as she let the moment sink in. she was surrounded by love, laughter and warmth. this is what her baby was being welcomed into, a family surrounded by people who already cared so deeply.

for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt at peace. she was home and she couldn’t wait to welcome her baby into the world.

—

it was well past midnight when alessia finally sank into the soft cushions of her old bed, her body aching with exhaustion but her mind too restless to sleep.

her family has tucked her in for the night with promises of a big family breakfast in the morning, but the quiet hum of the house only made her miss lotte and emily even more.

reaching for her phone, alessia stared at the time. it was early morning in north carolina - ridiculously early. she debated whether to call, knowing she could leave a message and they’d get back to her later.

but before she could second guess herself, her fingers had already pressed the button.

to her surprise emily picked up after only two rings, her voice groggy but alert. “less? everything okay?”

“why are you awake?” alessia asked, startled at the americans accent and by the fact she actually answer the phone.

“it’s five thirty am,” emily muttered, “i have morning conditioning in an hour. why are you still awake?” alessia chuckled, that’s one thing she wasn’t going to miss in a hurry - the early morning sessions.

“i just got home and i- um couldn’t sleep. i wasn’t expecting you to answer. i was just going to leave a message.” alessia explained as emily had placed her phone down on the counter to fill up her water bottle.

“like i’d miss your call,” emily said her tone softening as the american glanced across her dorm room, “wait, here comes lotte.”

a moment later, lotte was on the screen a tired smile on her face but still filled with excitement to her see the blonde. “less! your home already? how was the flight? did baby behave? did you find the notes we left?”

“slow down lotte..” emily interrupted with a teasing smile, “let her answer one question at a time”

alessia laughed, warmth spreading through her chest, “yes i’m home. the flight was fine - long but fine. baby is all good, kicking my ribs but that’s usual these days. and yes i found all the notes. thank you for those by the way.” her voice softened, “i already miss you guys.”

“don’t make me cry at five am,” emily groaned, “it’s too early for emotions.”

“literally? who gave you the right?” lotte added, but her teasing tone couldn’t mask the affection in her voice.

alessia leaned back against her pillows, “it feels weird without you both. and em you’ll be happy to know my mum has already taken over your job”

"job?”

“mhm the constant reminders about vitamins and water” alessia replied a hint of amusement in her tone, “first you, now her. it like i have my own personal tag team of nagging.”

“poor you” emily dai, her voice mock dramatic, “you live such a hard life. imagine having people who actually care about you. must be terrible.”

alessia snorted as she rolled her eyes playfully, although the two on the other side of the facetime call could barely see by the blondes dimly lit room.

“don’t mind her less,” lotte said her voice light. “you know she gets snappy when she’s tired.”

“i’m not snappy when i’m tired.” emily protested as lotte and alessia both looked to each other and burst out laughing.

“you are..” lotte countered as she stopped her laughing, “but it’s okay we love you anyway.”

the banter made alessia smile so wide her cheeks were beginning to her. these two girls were her rocks, her family away from home. even though right now they were miles apart she felt their love and support as strongly as if they were sitting beside her — if not more.

“thanks for answering” alessia said softly, “i didn’t think you would.”

“of course we did.” emily said her voice losing its previous teasing edge, “we told you that you can call us anytime, less. even if it’s just to say hi, we’re here for you.”

“always,” lotte added, “now you need to sleep. you’ve got the whole growing another human thing to keep up with.”

alessia laughed as she could feel the baby kicking slightly, “okay okay, goodnight— or good morning.. i guess”

“love you less!” they said in unison making the blonde grin.

“love you guys too!”

as alessia hung up the room felt a little less quiet and her heart felt a little less heavy. even across an ocean her best friends were always there for her. with a content sigh she fitted off to sleep one hand resting on her bump knowing she’d never be alone in this journey.

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . LET’S GO TO VEGAS.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MINORS DNI 18+ | word count — 1.9k | warnings — fem!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, established relationship, fingering (f receiving), creampie, biting, possessiveness

“Let’s—go—to—fucking—Vegas.”

Rafe’s voice was breathy, each word punctuated with a rough kiss, his teeth nipped at you harshly and his tongue had very little regard for the barrier of your lips, exploring your mouth like he was entitled to every inch of it.

He was.

His hands roamed your body aggressively, desperately, hands digging into your waist and your hips and reaching around to grip your ass in a way that forced a nervous giggle out of you, straight into his mouth, and he swallowed it along with every other cute noise you made.

“You’d look—so—fucking cute—in white.” His mouth moved to the corner of your lips, to your jaw, where he mouthed against the bone and sunk his teeth into your skin hard. You yelped, your fingers tugging at his hair, and he let out the smallest groan into your skin before soothing the quickly reddening mark with a drag of his tongue.

When Rafe got like this, you didn’t even have to participate half the time, all he needed was to claim you, to remind himself of how truly his you were. Without you even saying anything, he could ramble on and on and make himself rock hard just talking about the two of you. Like right now, when he was babbling about getting married in Vegas, and you could see the way his cock strained against his slacks. Painfully so, it looked like.

His hands dragged around your ass, kneading your skin and tugging on your panties. He pulled them taut so they rubbed against your clit suddenly, which was swollen from how bad you needed him, though of course you were letting him take his fill of everything else before he fucked you. He grinned proudly at the way your chest heaved, your eyebrows furrowing with frustration and discomfort as he basically gave you a wedgie for his own enjoyment—though of course, your half-lidded eyes and blown-out pupils told him everything he needed to know about how you were really feeling.

His shirt had been off for a while—as a matter of fact, you weren’t entirely sure if he’d showed up in one. The end result was the same, though. Your fingernails scrabbled lightly against his bare chest for purchase, his tanned muscles tensing under your touch, and you kept your eyes on him. Waiting, patiently, like you were supposed to.

That seemed to send him over the edge, eyes narrowing as he yanked your panties down, the lilac lace flashing against your thighs for only half a second before they were discarded on the floor. His hand was on you immediately, mouth finding yours again, and he teased your entrance with his fingers while he rubbed the flat of his palm tactlessly against your clit. His mouth was sloppy as he kissed you, his breath hot, and you were already whining and bucking your hips against him with every flick of his tongue against yours and rough press of his hand against your pussy.

“You’re my girl, right? Just mine, always.” He growled into your mouth.

This time you answered, nodding weakly, “yes, nghh, always.”

“Always what?”

Rafe should’ve known better than to keep trying to get coherent answers out of you when he was teasing your hole like this, fingers dipping halfway in, just enough to soak his hand, before he tugged them back out again. It provided barely any relief, only stoked the flames of desperation that were licking at your chest. But still, you answered—you were good like that.

“Yours. Always yours.” You whined into his mouth.

“Say you fucking swear.”

“I swear—fuck, Rafe, I swear!” As if you’d said the magic words, like that was all he needed to hear, he sunk two fingers inside of you, curling them and immediately finding the spot that had your head lolling forward, forehead pushed against him. He was unbelievably smug as he watched you, the way your swollen lips formed a near-perfect O as he finger fucked you, juices starting to drip down his hand.

“Please, please!” You keened, hips shoving against his hand roughly, like you could fit more inside of yourself on your own if you tried hard enough.

Always torn between reprimanding you for being difficult or giving in to the smug warmth that took over when you acted like this, he raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Please what?”

You struggled with his fingers still moving in and out of you roughly, eyes hazy as you tried to focus on his face, “Please fuck me.”

“I am!” He had the audacity to sound falsely confused, even ramming his fingers more forcefully into you as if to prove his point. You gritted your teeth, though a loud moan managed to escape your mouth anyway, followed immediately by an annoyed whine.

Usually, this would go on for a lot longer. Like… a lot longer. Rafe would toy with you until you were sobbing, pulling his fingers out of you and shoving them into your mouth until tears formed in your eyes from how hard you gagged, and then he’d shove them back inside you, newly soaked. He’d watch your face intently as he made fun of you and edged you endlessly, and his face would break out into a massive grin when you would finally break down and start sobbing from it. Then, maybe, he’d give you what you wanted.

Not now, though. Not when he was in one of his moods.

As if to prove this point, he pressed his lips to yours again, moving them almost gently. Almost. You kissed him back, mewling quietly into his mouth as you leaned further into him. He pulled his fingers out of you, and your frustration at his sudden absence made you break away from the kiss to protest.

Before you could, though, you realized his hand was going to his belt. You watched as he undid his belt buckle sloppily, his hand still glistening with your juices and smearing them against the otherwise pristine metal.

“Be fucking patient—for two seconds.” Though his words were rough, his tone was too soft for him to really mean it, and he let out a sharp breath as his cock finally sprung free from his boxers, where you could still see the wet spot from his precum. The hand you had in his hair tightened to help you keep under control… the two of you had a longstanding issue—you tried desperately to grab his dick nearly every time you saw it, and every time he’d smack your hand hard enough to leave a welt and tell you the same thing—to be fucking patient for two seconds. You’d get it when he said so.

So, this time, you kept one hand in his hair and shoved the other under your thigh. Where they couldn’t grab him, unfortunately.

“That’s my girl.” He breathed, almost reverently. Your face heated up immediately, nearly falling over at how proud he was of you.

Rafe stroked himself a few times, his breath catching slightly as he did, and you watched with wide eyes the way his giant hand moved and how his hips reacted to it. He lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside slowly, a courtesy he didn’t often give you, and your eyes rolled back immediately. The stretch was minimal, you’d actually always thought his cock fit right inside like the two of you were puzzle pieces (you’d been making an earnest observation when you’d told him that after your first time together, but he’d fucked you so hard afterwards that the bed frame cracked the wall behind it. So much for honest observations.)

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, eyes trained on Rafe as you frantically tried to drink in the sight of him all at once. His abs tensed as he thrust in and out of you, your body jolting every time he bottomed out. His straw-blonde hair was perfectly tousled from the way you’d ran your fingers through it, falling in his face just-so, his jaw clenched in concentration. His oceanic eyes flicked to yours and held your gaze, the two of you locked staring into eachother’s eyes, which set him off again:

“We can go to—that little white fuckin’ church in Vegas—and then—get a—fuck, oh, fuck!” He lost his rhythm a little as he got himself more riled up, and you whimpered against his neck as he sloppily increased his pace, “get a fucking hotel room—and I can fuck you there, too—cause you’ll be mine.”

“I am yours.” You managed to get out, and were rewarded with a hard thrust, kissing your cervix in a way that made you gasp. You squeaked, hands finding his shoulders for stability and digging into his muscles, which rippled with exertion from how tightly was holding onto you.

Rafe reached up to fasten his hand around your throat lightly, pulling your mouth to his in an open-mouth kiss that was more the clashing of teeth and his desperate tongue against yours than it was lips touching.

“I’m gonna… fuck, Rafe, I’m—” He didn’t let you finish, muffling the rest of your sentence with his mouth, though the way he sped up his hips told you he knew what you were going to say. His body was warm and solid against yours, one hand squeezing your throat reassuringly while he held you in place by your waist with the other, fucking you like it really was your wedding night, like he was showing you what the rest of the nights in your life were gonna look like. Your fingernails were practically claws against his shoulders, and his face twisted into a gleeful wince that told you it stung.

“Say my name—say it.” He demanded, the look on your face clearly alerting him to the spots dancing behind your eyelids, the coil tightening inside of you that was seconds away from springing. “Now.”

And you did, shouting his name as your orgasm ripped through your body. Every last muscle of yours tensed around Rafe, your legs locking up and your pussy clenching around him. You felt his dick twitch inside of you, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to keep fucking you through the aftershocks. You whimpered in sensitivity, maintaining your vice grip around his shoulders to keep you close while he fucked his cum deeper into you.

The wet sounds, which had grown unbelievably louder and more explicit, were what sent him over the edge. His eyes locked on you again, and you watched his face twist, his mouth falling open as he emptied inside of you.

Rafe shuddered, bending over you to mouth a series of kisses along your jaw and the crook of your neck, pressing his nose affectionately against your face and inhaling deeply as he finished cumming.

“I fucking love you, you know that? I do. I’ll always love you. I swear on my life.”

Your eyes fluttered, mouth quirking up slightly. “You say that every time you cum, jerk.”

His head snapped up to look at you, eyebrows furrowed defensively, though once he saw the look on your face and realized you were kidding, he relaxed. “It’s true!” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead and cradling your head gently with his hands.

“Let me get you a towel.” He said as he pulled out, and you gave a tired giggle.

“Gentlemanly.” You muttered.

Rafe grinned. “Only the best for my girl, right?”

[zhelin-thames]

The night was calm—eerily so, by Amity Park’s usual standards. Danny Fenton, better known to the ghostly underworld as Danny Phantom, leaned against the brick wall of an alley, munching on a cold burger. His patrol had been uneventful for once, and he was planning to call it a night when the sound of footsteps echoed down the street.

Danny didn’t need ghost sense to know someone was watching him. The footsteps were light, precise, and purposeful—not the aimless shuffling of a drunk or the hesitant steps of a passerby. Whoever it was, they were skilled. His eyes flicked toward the shadows, but he kept his posture casual.

And then the kid stepped into the light.

“Train me,” the boy said, his voice even and steady, though his face betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Danny blinked at him. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, dressed in black from head to toe with a hood shadowing most of his face. But it wasn’t just his age that gave Danny pause. It was the look in his eyes—sharp, cold, and determined. This kid was on a mission.

“No,” Danny replied flatly, taking another bite of his burger. He’d seen this kind of determination before—he’d been this kind of determination before—and he wasn’t about to let this kid follow in his footsteps. The vigilante life wasn’t just dangerous; it was a one-way ticket to pain, loss, and an early grave. Danny had survived by the skin of his teeth, but he wasn’t about to play Russian roulette with someone else’s life.

The kid didn’t flinch. “Train me.”

Danny sighed. “No.”

He turned and began walking away, hoping the kid would get the hint, but of course, he didn’t. The boy followed him like a shadow, his footsteps silent but deliberate.

“Train me.”

Danny stopped and turned to face him. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

The kid shook his head. Danny could respect that kind of persistence, even if it was annoying. Still, there was no way he was getting roped into this.

“Look, kid, I don’t know who you are or what you think you’re doing, but trust me, you don’t want this life.”

“Yes, I do,” the boy said firmly. “I’ve trained for years. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” Danny raised an eyebrow. “And what’s your plan when things go sideways? When you’re outnumbered, outgunned, and one mistake away from getting yourself killed? You think martial arts and stubbornness are gonna save you?”

The boy didn’t answer, but his jaw tightened, and Danny could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface. He sighed again, running a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “But we’re doing it my way, got it? First rule: what’s your name?”

The boy straightened, his back rigid with pride. “I am Bruce Wayne.”

Danny froze. Wayne. As in the Wayne family. The rich, fancy folks who owned half the buildings in Gotham. He stared at the kid, suddenly understanding why he was so serious—and why he’d probably been trained in martial arts since he could walk.

“Alright, rule number one,” Danny said, recovering quickly. “When you’re in your vigilante identity, you don’t give people your real name. You need to keep your identities separate. Got it?”

Bruce frowned, clearly not understanding the importance of this, but he nodded.

“Good. Now again—what’s your name?”

The boy hesitated, his brows furrowing as he considered the question. Finally, he squared his shoulders and said, “Batman.”

Danny blinked. Then he blinked again. The kid’s tone was serious—so serious that Danny might have actually been intimidated if not for the fact that his voice cracked halfway through the word.

Danny bit his lip, struggling to hold back a laugh. “Alright, Batsy,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he could stop himself. “Rule number two: no vigilante-ing until you’re twenty. Teenage vigilantes get killed. They make dumb mistakes, and trust me, I know. I was a teenage vigilante, and let me tell you, it’s not worth the risk.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “What? No! I need to protect Gotham. I can’t wait four more years to do that!”

It was the first time Danny had heard any real emotion in his voice. The boy’s face softened, just for a moment, and Danny could see the weight of the world pressing down on his narrow shoulders. He wanted to argue, to convince Danny that he was ready, but Danny shook his head.

“Nope,” he said firmly. “You wait until you’re out of the ‘teen’ range, or I don’t train you. End of discussion. And rule number three, which is kind of an extension of rule number one: don’t give out personal information in your vigilante identity. I know you’re sixteen now, and I wasn’t even trying to get that info out of you.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line, and a low growl escaped his throat. Danny couldn’t help but think he sounded like a cranky puppy.

“Fine,” Bruce muttered, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to win this argument. But Danny could tell he was already filing everything away, committing the rules to memory. The kid was smart, no doubt about that.

“Good,” Danny said with a grin. “Training starts tomorrow, Baby Bat. Meet me at Nasty Burger. Civvies only.”

Years later, Bruce Wayne stood in the Batcave, his head pounding as he argued with a pint-sized acrobat perched on the Batcomputer.

Bruce opened his mouth to argue, but Danny was already walking away, his laughter echoing down the alley.

“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice low and measured, “you’re not going out there. You’re nine. You wait until you’re twenty, and that’s final.”

Dick Grayson crossed his arms, his small face twisted into a defiant scowl. “But you didn’t wait until you were twenty!”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not!”

Bruce groaned. He was starting to understand how Danny must have felt all those years ago.

Meanwhile, in Amity Park, Danny Fenton paused mid-bite of his burger. A strange sensation washed over him—a tingling at the back of his mind that he hadn’t felt in years.

“I don’t know where or why,” Danny muttered, narrowing his eyes at the distance, “but I just know Baby Bat is doing something dumb again. And I don’t like it.”

It had been years since Danny Fenton had reluctantly taken on a certain sixteen-year-old Bruce Wayne as a trainee. The so-called Baby Bat had been stubborn, determined, and relentless in his pursuit of justice—even if Danny had been equally stubborn in making sure the kid didn’t get himself killed before he turned twenty.

Now, years later, Bruce Wayne had turned into Batman—the Batman. The name was spoken in hushed tones across the criminal underworld and was plastered on the news every other week. Danny couldn’t help but feel proud… and maybe a little exasperated.

He’d done his job. Bruce was alive, competent, and running Gotham like a pro. Danny had thought his days of worrying about Baby Bat were long behind him.

But that thought was obliterated the moment Bruce reached out through a very specific secure channel.

Danny leaned back on the couch in his apartment, half-listening to an old horror movie playing in the background while munching on chips. His ghostly senses were quiet, and for once, life was calm.

That’s when the Bat-symbol flashed on his computer screen.

He groaned loudly, almost spilling his chips. “I knew it. I freaking knew it. I should’ve ignored this brat the first time he said ‘Train me.’”

Reluctantly, Danny got up and opened the line. The face staring back at him was unmistakable—Bruce Wayne, older now, with sharper angles and a jawline that could probably cut glass. Despite the years, Danny immediately recognized the faint glint of determination (and maybe stubbornness) in his eyes. Some things never changed.

“Bruce,” Danny drawled, leaning against his desk. “What do you want now? Did you break something? Or someone? Or are you just here to tell me about how Gotham still sucks?”

“Danny,” Bruce said, his voice as grave as ever. “I need your help.”

Danny squinted at him, skeptical. “Help? With what? You’re literally Batman now. What could you possibly need from me?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and Danny almost laughed. He’s nervous. What the hell is going on?

Finally, Bruce spoke. “It’s my family.”

Danny blinked. “Your… family?”

“They’re... difficult,” Bruce admitted begrudgingly, and Danny couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He laughed so hard he had to clutch his sides, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“You? You, the most difficult person I’ve ever met, are complaining about difficult family members?” Danny wheezed. “Oh, this is rich.”

Bruce didn’t look amused. “Danny.”

“Alright, alright,” Danny said, wiping his eyes. “What’s the deal? You’ve got Alfred, right? Let him handle it.”

“This is different,” Bruce said, and Danny could hear the faintest edge of discomfort in his voice. “You’ll see when you get here.”

And with that, the line cut out.

Danny stared at the blank screen for a moment before sighing. “I swear, if he’s gotten himself in over his head again…”

Danny arrived at Wayne Manor via ghost portal the next evening, stepping out of the swirling green vortex in his Phantom form. The grandeur of the place hit him immediately—it was just as ridiculous as he remembered.

He floated down into the Batcave, landing silently behind Bruce, who was reviewing a crime map on the massive Batcomputer.

“Alright, Batsy,” Danny said, his voice echoing in the cave. “What’s the big deal?”

Bruce didn’t even turn. “They’re here.”

Danny was about to ask who when he heard a series of rapid footsteps and loud voices approaching from the tunnels.

“—I told you to stop touching my stuff, Todd!”

“Like I care, Drake!”

“You’re both insufferable,” another voice cut in, colder and sharper.

“Guys, please!” someone else chimed in, clearly exasperated.

And then they were there—a collection of teenagers and young adults, each looking like they belonged in their own action movie.

Danny blinked. “Bruce,” he said slowly, turning to face him. “Why do you have an army of kids?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as his children assembled in front of Danny.

“Danny, meet my… family.”

The first to step forward was the oldest—a grinning man in his twenties with an acrobat’s grace and bright, mischievous blue eyes. “Dick Grayson,” he said, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Danny shook it, eyeing him warily. “The original Robin, huh? Bruce talks about you sometimes. Says you’re the ‘good one.’”

Dick smirked. “Good to know I’m still the favorite.”

“Only because you don’t give me headaches,” Bruce muttered.

The next kid to step forward was a young man with a white streak in his dark hair, a leather jacket, and an air of barely-restrained chaos. He didn’t offer a handshake.

“Jason Todd,” he said, his voice rough. “And you’re the guy who taught Bruce how to nag, huh?”

Danny snorted. “And you’re the one who probably causes most of his headaches.”

Jason smirked. “Damn right.”

The third was a lanky teen with sharp eyes and a smartphone glued to his hand. “Tim Drake,” he said, not looking up from the screen.

“You’re the tech guy, I’m guessing?” Danny said.

Tim nodded distractedly. “You could say that.”

Next was a young boy, no older than ten, with a scowl that could probably scare grown men. He crossed his arms and glared at Danny.

“Damian Wayne,” he said. “Biological son.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Ah, the little terror Bruce never shut up about.”

Damian bristled. “I am no terror—”

“Yes, you are,” everyone said in unison.

Danny turned to Bruce, his arms crossed. “So… what do you need my help with? Because it looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

Bruce sighed heavily. “They don’t listen to me. Half the time, they’re arguing. The other half, they’re trying to outsmart each other—or me.”

“And?” Danny prompted.

“And,” Bruce said reluctantly, “I thought you could help… mediate.”

Danny blinked. Then he started laughing again. “You want me to babysit your army of vigilantes?”

“It’s not babysitting,” Bruce growled.

But it absolutely was.

Over the next few days, Danny found himself in the middle of Bat-family antics. Whether it was Jason and Tim bickering over whose tech was better, Dick trying to wrangle everyone for a “team-building exercise,” or Damian threatening to fight literally everyone, Danny was beginning to realize why Bruce looked so perpetually exhausted.

But for all the chaos, there was a sense of family here that Danny couldn’t help but admire. It reminded him of his own ragtag group back in Amity—Sam, Tucker, Jazz, even Vlad in a weird way.

Eventually, Danny pulled Bruce aside. “You know,” he said, “for all your complaining, you’ve built something pretty amazing here. They’re not just your team—they’re your family.”

Bruce looked at his kids, a rare flicker of softness crossing his face. “I know,” he said quietly.

Danny grinned. “Well, you’re still a pain in the ass, but I think you’ve done alright, Batsy.”

And so, Danny’s unexpected reunion with Bruce turned into a week-long crash course in dealing with the next generation of vigilantes. By the time he left, he was exhausted—but also a little proud.

As he stepped back through his portal, he shook his head with a smile.

“Baby Bat really did grow up, huh?”

Somewhere in the Batcave, Bruce smirked.

[sxcretricciardo]

I’m back… pt.3

social media au

part two here

•

f1 BREAKING: Norris and Y/L/N are out of the race ⚠️

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username1 omg they’re gonna end up killing each other

username2 damn, but it was clearly Lando’s fault

-> username3 right?? Why didn’t he leave enough space???

username4 the fact that Y/N got out of the car and almost threw hands at Lando she’s a BADASS

-> username5 she isn’t taking shit from him, go girl 🤭

-> username6 as she SHOULD

username7 Oscar asking on the radio if she was okay before asking about his OWN teammate 👀

•

real life

The post-race chaos was a blur as you stormed into the McLaren garage, your pulse hammering in your ears. Every muscle in your body was tense, your mind replaying the sickening crunch of metal and the stomach-lurching spin off the track. The collision with Lando had been entirely avoidable, and you knew it.

Lando was sitting on a workbench, still in his race suit, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. When he looked up and saw you, his jaw clenched. He set his water bottle down, clearly bracing himself for what was coming.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Lando?” you spat, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

He stood, matching your intensity. “Don’t start with me, Y/N. You were just as much at fault.”

“Don’t you dare try to put this on me!” you snapped, stepping closer. “I gave you enough room! You turned in on me like you wanted to take us both out!”

His eyes flared with anger, but he didn’t respond right away, and that silence was all the confirmation you needed.

“This wasn’t just a racing incident,” you pressed, your voice shaking with fury. “That was personal. What were you thinking, huh? That you’d knock some sense into me? Scare me? Or were you just trying to hurt me because you still can’t stand the fact that I walked away from you?”

“Stop,” he said, his voice low but warning.

“No, I won’t stop!” you shouted. “You’ve been acting like this ever since I left you—since I finally decided I deserved better than someone who cheats!”

The words hung in the air between you like a live wire, and you saw the flicker of guilt cross his face before he masked it with anger.

“Don’t bring that up again,” he said tightly, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?” you shot back. “You ruined us, Lando. You did. And now you’re trying to ruin me on the track, too?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t like that out there.”

“Then what was it like?” you demanded, your voice shaking. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked like you were trying to prove a point.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he muttered.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you said bitterly.

Lando looked up at you, his expression cracking just enough for you to see the regret underneath. “I lost my head, okay? Seeing you… seeing you so happy, like none of it even mattered—it got to me.”

You stared at him, disbelief flooding through you. “So you risked my safety—our safety—because you’re jealous? Because you can’t stand the fact that I’ve moved on?”

“Maybe I can’t,” he admitted, his voice quiet but raw. “Maybe I hate seeing you with them—watching you smile at other guys like you used to smile at me. Do you know how hard it is to see that and know it’s my fault? That I’m the one who screwed it up?”

Your breath caught, his confession hitting you like a punch to the gut. But it didn’t soften your anger. If anything, it made it worse.

“You don’t get to play the victim here, Lando,” you said coldly. “You made your choice. You cheated. And I walked away because I deserve better than someone who couldn’t even respect me.”

His shoulders sagged, the weight of your words clearly hitting him, but you weren’t done.

“And now? Now you’re letting your jealousy and regret turn into something dangerous. You could’ve ended my career out there today. Or worse.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” you replied, stepping back. “I’ve moved on, Lando. Maybe it’s time you try to do the same.”

He didn’t say anything as you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the quiet of the garage. But as you stepped out into the paddock, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over—that whatever unresolved emotions still lingered between you would find a way to surface again.

•

yourusername not the result I wanted for this weekend… but I’ll keep pushing to get back those lost points! See you next weekend 💪🏻🫶🏻

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username1 clearly not your fault! That penalty was well given to Lando!

fernandoalo_oficial you got this chica 💪🏻

alex_albon let’s go! glad you’re not hurt

username2 get it girl!! 😍

oscarpiastri 💪🏻

username3 the next dts season is gonna be INSANE I can’t wait 🤭

•

real life

The day had been long and emotionally exhausting. After your fight with Lando, you had barely made it through the mandatory media debriefs without snapping at someone. Now, standing in the paddock under the setting sun, you were relieved that the weekend was finally over.

“Rough day, huh?” Fernando’s familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned to find your teammate leaning casually against the wall, his helmet bag slung over one shoulder. Despite the chaos of the day, Fernando always seemed composed, a stark contrast to your current state.

“That’s putting it mildly,” you replied, managing a weak smile.

He nodded knowingly, then tilted his head slightly. “I heard you’re heading to the Aston Martin headquarters tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Have to go over some data with the engineers.”

“Same here,” he said, his tone casual. “Why don’t you skip the hassle of a commercial flight and ride with me? My jet’s leaving in an hour.”

The offer caught you off guard, but it also sounded like the perfect way to escape the mess of today. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Fernando said with a small smile. “It’ll be nice to have some company.”

An hour later, you were seated across from Fernando on his private jet, a glass of wine in hand. The plush interior and quiet hum of the engines felt like a world away from the chaos of the paddock.

“To surviving another race weekend,” Fernando said, raising his glass with a smirk.

You chuckled, clinking your glass against his. “Barely.”

As the jet cruised through the night sky, the wine kept flowing, and so did the conversation. Fernando was surprisingly easy to talk to, his sharp wit and dry humor making you laugh more than you had all weekend. You found yourself relaxing in his company, the tension from earlier slowly melting away.

But somewhere between the second and third glass, the atmosphere began to shift. His gaze lingered a little too long, and your laughs turned into soft smiles. You couldn’t ignore the way his voice dipped when he said your name, or the way his hand brushed yours when he reached for the bottle.

It was reckless, you knew that, but when he leaned closer, his dark eyes searching yours for permission, you didn’t stop him. His lips were on yours before you could think, the kiss slow and deliberate, leaving no room for doubt about what he wanted.

One thing led to another, and soon you found yourself tangled in the sheets of the jet’s private cabin. It was a blur of heated whispers, soft gasps, and the kind of passion you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Afterward, as you lay beside him, reality began to sink in. You sat up, pulling the blanket around you, your mind racing.

“This can’t happen again,” you said, your voice firm despite the lingering warmth of his touch.

Fernando propped himself up on one elbow, his expression unreadable. “I know,” he said simply.

“I mean it, Fernando,” you pressed, turning to face him. “We’re teammates. This… this could complicate everything. It was a mistake.”

He studied you for a moment, then nodded. “I get it. One time, no strings.”

His calm response surprised you. You had expected more pushback, maybe even an argument, but his easy acceptance only reinforced why you had always respected him.

“Nothing changes between us,” he added, his voice steady. “We’re still teammates. Still focused on the team. This doesn’t leave this jet.”

You exhaled in relief, appreciating his maturity. “Thank you.”

Fernando gave you a small smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly. “Get some rest. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

As you settled back into the seat, your thoughts swirled. You told yourself it was a one-time lapse in judgment, a fleeting moment of weakness.

•

yourusername alexa play “kill bill” by SZA 🔪

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oscarpiastri I hope you liked the cake

-> yourusername you spoil me too much, pastry🥐

-> georgerussel63 you’ve never sent me cake, I’m jealous oscarpiastri

-> yourusername come get your man carmenmmundt 😴

username1 omg Oscar sent her the cake?? What am I missing???

-> username2 RIGHT?? her dating her ex’s teammate would be an amazing revenge 😭

username3 the caption 💀

•

thatf1podcast here’s a sneak peek of our episode with the one and only Y/N Y/L/N 👀

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username1 I need all the teaaaaa 😏

yourusername it was a pleasure 🤭

username2 I NEED THIS EPISODE NOW

username3 I’m loving it 😌

•

tag list: @samantharaytanner @stressed-cherry @anamiad00msday @book-obsesseds-world @hurtblossom @tagteamedbitch @hoeforsirius @jxnellat @tillyt04 @danielshoe @tvdtw4ever @raynetargaryan2 @sadiemack9 @henna006 @wordesthatics @whosluce @mikaalvesreal @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @littlegrapejuice @bakingpiastries @ietss

- part 4 coming soon

[thewertsearch]

Even though your dad isn't overbearing with all the detective nonsense anymore, he decided to leave this one here for old time's sake. It brings back memories of his very short-lived stint as a private eye.

Dad Crocker really is just Dad Egbert all over again - not just in looks, but in personality as well. My best guess is still adoption - that it is the same Dad, but he was adopted by Poppop instead of Nanna this time.

Granted, it's a little strange that the Condesce would allow this to happen. Dad's no ally of English, so why hasn't she reassigned Jane to someone more loyal to him?

You were afraid this might be the case. Your dad has blocked the front door with the REFRIGERATOR. Looks like he's taking the grounding seriously this time.

...maybe she doesn't care if Dad's loyal to English, as long as he can still be trusted to keep Jane locked down until Entry.

Dad's certainly got the Mangrit to handle that task, and he's clearly protective enough to do it on his own initiative, without needing to be coaxed.

Here’s Johnny!

I probably should have called this when the Act's opening only showed his arm - but damn, you really don't expect to see a stuffed corpse in Jane's house, do you? This tradition feels a lot more eerie and out-of-place in Suburbia, USA than it did in Grandpa Harley's House of Mysteries.

It practically went without saying your dad keeps poppop stuffed and mounted in front of the fireplace, as is the family tradition. [...] This was stipulated firmly in the will, at the end of a long list of joke stipulations. (Dad knew this was a real stipulation though.)

lmaooooooo

Y'know, the more I think about it, the more I appreciate the fact that John got to raise Dad this time around. You can really see how the two are kindred spirits - and if the original Dad had lived to see John grow up, this is a sad little glimpse into how close they would have stayed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, reference to suicide and Lloyd being offensive, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Thanks for all your patience.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Migraines always leave you a bit foggy. Like a hangover, or even a concussion. You power through the airport, waiting in line with your mustachioed curse. Lloyd taps his toe incessantly, adding to the plethora of overstimulation all around you. This isn’t how you envisioned your holidays.  

It’s the 26th and you’re supposed to be on your way home, not catching the flight you booked for two days before. And alone. You’re supposed to be alone. 

You take your boarding pass and leave Lloyd’s for him to grab himself. He huffs and follows after you. He’s like a big dumb dog sometimes. It’s amazing that the realization only comes over you then. It’s pretty obvious when he’s not behind a desk growling like some mafioso. He’s no kingpin, he’s a clown. 

You drop into a seat, your carry-on beside you, and he claims the seat to your left. He’s on the edge, jiggling his leg. You could thank him for upgrading you both to first class but he’s the reason you’re even there. It’s the least he could do. 

You cross your arms and stare through the haze. The first-class lounge is quiet and softly lit. Isolated but for the pest next to you. He continues to fidget. Is he nervous? You didn’t think that was possible since he seems to lack any degree of self-awareness. 

“So, gimme the down low. You got a mom? Girl like you screams daddy issues. Is he still around?” 

You sigh. “Sure is.” 

“Wow, okay. Good guy? Strict? Shit, knowing you, he must be a hard ass,” he scoffs. “Should I put on my best behaviour? Should I have worn a tie, Pixie pie?” He tugs at the collar of his turtleneck. 

“What you can do is hush,” you retort. “Jesus, I’m tryna get my head together.” 

“Last night was wild,” he agrees, though it’s not the point you were making, nor a statement of fact. “We were so close, Pix. You shoulda just laid back and let the magic hands do their tricks. Promise,” he smooths his mustache, “this isn’t just for show. I’ve been told it adds a lot of sensation--” 

“Ew. Would you—if you even say any of that in front of my family--” 

“You gonna spank me?” He asks brightly and sits back, slinging an arm over the back of your chair. 

“Please. I have to at least make this believable and you’re not making it any easier,” you snarl. 

“Are you serious? Our chemistry is like if Einstein banged a beaker--” 

“Einstein was a physicist--” 

“Science is science, baby. All I know is there’s something here and the sooner you accept it, the harder I’ll-- I mean the easier this will be.” 

You look at him dully. All those years you spent bending over backward for him. Behind the mask, he’s a cretin. You always had a suspicion but he was never your creep to deal with. 

“How do you do that?” He asks. 

You grumble and shake your head, turning your glare to the flat screen across from you. 

“How the hell do you skin a man with your eyes? It’s bone tingling and boner-inducing, but damn, it’s something else,” he shifts in his chair noticeably, “you’re gonna make me fly all the way to Canada at half-mast?” 

“You can book a seat across the plane from me if you’re going to keep on,” you warn him. “I’m really not in the mood. We have a deal. I’ll do my part. Pretend, nothing more, and you’ll keep your hands to yourself and give me my money.” 

“I got it, baby. I’m a businessman,” he turns straight and plants his feet wide. “I make deals every day. You’ll get yours.” 

“I want an advance--” 

“An advance? What the hell do you mean? I paid for first-class. Elite,” he punctuates with his finger. “Advance, my juicy ass.” 

“Ten. In my account. Before take-off.” 

“Pfft, you don’t trust me?” 

“No, I don’t,” you affirm. “More so, you owe me. I defaulted on the refund on the flight you made me miss. Oh, and I didn’t get to see my family. On Christmas.” 

“Jeez, well you don’t seem that happy to,” he accuses. 

“Money, now.” 

“Fine, but I get one titty grab--” 

“You get nothing. Mon-ey.” You rub your fingers together. 

He huffs and leans forward as he takes his phone out. He rolls his eyes and taps around on the screen. He takes a deep breath then pushes down. He shows you the screen. “Go ahead and check. You got your blood money.” 

“This is your idea,” you retort. 

“It is my idea but you’re rejecting all my other ones. Like, you know, a sexy massage with a happy ending...” 

“You’re going to give me another headache.” 

“I’ll take it. At least I make you feel something.” He shrugs. 

You shake your head at nothing and check your phone. You can never be too careful with him. Sharing a room has more than proven that. 

🎁

You put the in-flight earbuds in and resign yourself to the hours ahead of you, trapped in a flying canister, next to this incessant man-child. He really brings out the bitch in you. That irritates you even more. You could do anything before without much thought at all; you just got through but Lloyd makes everything a task. 

You close your eyes as the video babbles on. It’s a new release, but those are all remakes and sequels without any real interest. The altitude does little for the shadow of achiness that lingers in the base of your skull. One wrong move and you’ll reawaken your migraine. 

The steady thrum of air around the plane lulls you in a stupor. Just enough for you to stop caring but not deep enough for sleep. You let your head fall toward the window and sink into the numb daze. 

A small tickle makes you shift. You think nothing of it. It’s so small, it could be nothing. Then the sensation travels down to your knee and back up your thigh. You smack Lloyd’s hand before he can repeat the action. 

“Quit,” you hiss. 

He spreads his hand and curls his fingers into your tender flesh. You squeak and open your eyes, clasping onto his wrist as he needs. It’s as if he pinching your nerves. 

“Ow, oh, stop--” you protest. 

“Come on, baby,” he leans over and winks. “Just let me pet the kitty. It’ll help you relax.” 

“How many times can I tell you the same thing--” 

“Just like a dog, you need to be repetitive. Conditioning or whatever,” he purrs. 

You glance past him at the low wall blocking out your seats from the sight of the other pods in first class. You clutch his two middle fingers and squeeze. You bend them back until he grunts and recoils. 

“You touching me isn’t going to make me relax--” 

“Never know if you don’t try,” he wiggles his brows. 

“Trust me, I know.” 

“I’m sure your family don’t need you in a pissy mood. I’m doing it for them, Pixie.” 

“Can I ask you something?” You narrow your eyes, “does the begging usually work?” 

He snorts. He shakes his head and sits back, raising his palms, “you will be flattered to know I don’t usually beg.” He leans against the seat and rests his head on the cushion. “When I tell a girl to hike her skirt up, she just does it. All of them but you.” He clucks and rolls his eyes. “You know that pretty blond from Pristine? Yeah, whenever she comes around, I got her bent over the desk. Thought you’d catch on, she’s not very quiet.” 

You won’t grace him with an excuse. You don’t need one. You’re usually busy, minding your own business, running his errands. You never cared about his office flings. 

“Maybe you should’ve asked her to meet your family,” you suggest. 

“Kidding me? She never shuts up. I gotta stuff my tie in her mouth. Usually why I turn her around--” 

“Lloyd,” you snap. 

“Jealous?” He smirks and you stare back blankly. “You know what? Gotta admit, you surprised me, Pixie Pie. Always quiet in the office, scurrying around like a little mouse. I figured you’d be good because you’d keep the yapper shut. Turns out, you know how to cut deep.” He pushes his shoulders wide and settles. “Never saw mom like that. Or Lillian. Yeah, that was good. You really got her.” 

He snickers and flutters his fingers menacingly. You yawn and look at the small screen. You don’t know what’s going on in the movie. What you do know is that Lloyd Hansen has more issues than one person can solve and you’re not there for anything but business. This is work. You’re getting your money and you’re moving on. 

🎁

Landing is usually a relief. You’re always happy to be on solid ground but it feels shaky as you walk off with your travel companion. The bounce in Lloyd’s step concerns you. He’s much too eager for this. 

He grabs his bags from the carousel, yours too before you can even approach. He loads them all onto a car and steers it around the airport. He’s whistling as you get through the terminal and head for the front doors. As you step outside, he chatters and stops short. 

“Holy grizzly dick, it’s freezing here,” he puffs a cloud of steam as his nose tints pink. 

“There’s not much more snow here than back in the States.” 

“Nah, it’s fucking frigid. Should’ve known,” he shivers and tucks his chin down. You make note of his snipe but don’t acknowledge it. “You maple drinkers drive on the same side of the road?” You glare at him and he winces as he meets your eyes. You’ve booked him trips to Vancouver several times. “Kidding. Obviously. That whole polite stereotype is bullshit, huh, Pix.” 

You ignore him and hail a cab. You just want to be still. The last few days, you’ve been upended. The long drive, his family, the hotel, then a plane ride on top of it all. You’re ready to just stop. 

He wheels the cart around to the trunk and leaves it to the driver to load. You want to admonish him but you’re over the argument. You know you’re going to need your energy. You get in and he climbs in with you.  

He blows into his hands then rubs his cheek. “Santa dropped a load on this place, huh?” He unzips his coat and reaches under it. He fishes around the inside pocket and slips out a pair of glasses. You furrow your nose. You’ve never seen him wear glasses. 

“Where did you get those?” 

“Hipster boy in coach. Snagged them when I hit the restroom,” he explains and pops them on, leaning against you as he cranes to see his reflection in the rear-view mirror. 

“You stole glasses?” 

“Borrowed,” he insists then turns to you. “What’d ya think? Am I the perfect good boy for mom and pop?” 

“You think glasses are gonna do something?” 

“We talked about this, we gotta be convincing, sweetheart. I gotta be a man that sweet lil Pixie would go for.” He adjusts the glasses. “I read Hemingway and have a degree in Social Justice.” 

“Shut--” you catch yourself and sniff. “I don’t even like Hemingway.” 

“Jane Austen? Really? A romantic?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“I’d say. We have to at least pretend we can stand each other. Not just...” he looks down at his lap, “stand for each other.” 

“Ugh, well, start with cutting out those nasty remarks. Second, try, uh, taking care of...” you gesture over your lip, “this.” 

He blinks and his brows draw together. He touches his upper lip, “my mustache?” His eyes widen behind the lenses. “Um, this is style, honey.” 

You scrunch your lips as you try not to laugh. He really believes that. You shrug as the driver gets in. He crosses his arms. 

“Whatever. Judge me but don’t just the stache,” he snips. “So, you gotta tell me. Favourite book.” 

“Do I?” 

“Well, we’re ‘engaged’ so I think I should know,” he argues. 

You watch through the windshield as the taxi follows the airport traffic to the street, “The Bell Jar. If I have to choose one.” 

“Oooh, Plath. How... depressing. But I knew it, you’re a reader, Pixie. Bet you like to sink into a hot tub and get cozy with a good novel. You get the kinky one, let the hand wander below the surface--” 

You elbow him and he cackles. “Alright, sorry. I just—a man’s used to eating daily.” 

“Maybe a diet will do you well,” you retort. 

“Cheat day will come soon enough,” he says. “I’ll do my best to keep my pants on, just don’t go putting your head in any ovens.” 

“You’re awful,” you exclaim. “That’s awful.” 

“Alright,” he combs his hair back, “gonna be a good boy. Promise.” 

“You can take the glasses off.” 

“I kinda like ‘em,” he grins and pinches the arms. 

You make a face but say nothing. The city passes by and your eyes gloss over the familiar sights. The taxi drops you at the rental place and you pull up the booking. There’s at least an hour before you get outside Toronto, then another to your mom’s place. You take the keys and jingle them at Lloyd. 

“Wanna drive?” You ask. 

“I don’t really know where I’m going,” he says. 

“Right.” 

“Besides, Pixie, you got control issues.” 

“Me?” You scoff. “Sure.” 

“Oh, you do,” he assures you as you cross the lot to the rental. “Once you give in to them, you’ll be a lot happier and I'll be your perfect sub.” 

You pop the trunk and tut as you approach the driver’s side, “get the bags in the car, would ya?” 

[baptismbaby]

★ ⁺.𝘜𝘕𝘗𝘜𝘕𝘐𝘚𝘏𝘈𝘉𝘓𝘌

toxic!ellie x reader summary: you and ellie are on and off constantly and have been for years. but you can’t stop coming back for more… until finally, you’ve just had enough. warnings: this one is gonna be PRETTY rough. slight age gap but nothing toooo crazy (reader is 21, ellie is 28). ellie isn’t just toxic but she’s also kinda insane. Weird as hell matter of fact. slapping, choking/breath control, hair pulling, strap(r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving). ellie is manipulative. ellie’s bit of a player but doesn’t actually physically cheat. she just flirts w other girls smh my head (fr irritated over this fact as if i aint the one who’s writing her this way) note: listen to unpunishable & crush-stripped by ethel cain. hope u guys enjoy the ride Wc: 5.1k<3

God, you hated and worshipped Ellie at the same time. She was simultaneously the worst and best person you’ve ever met. You remember how infatuated with her you were when you were a senior in high school. She was the town’s local mechanic. The shop was owned by her step dad, Joel Miller, who did a lot for the school you attended. You would see her pretty often due to the shitbox you drove back then. You were only seventeen at the time so she never seemed too interested in you but would compliment you here and there when she wasn’t being dry. You thought she looked so cool with her oil covered hands, marlboro red stuck between her chapped lips, and camo jacket sleeves pushed up to her elbows to reveal her tattoos and randomly placed scars. You thought you were in over your head, trying so hard to catch her attention knowing she was bit of a whore who fucked women and pushed them aside. You’d wear short skirts that revealed your ass with the tiniest gust of wind and low cut crop tops. You’d linger around to watch her work on your engine, eyeing her skilled fingers and later touching yourself to the thought of them. You wanted her to really notice you and give you a chance, even if it meant she’d treat you how she did all the other women. Just a random fuck.

On your eighteenth birthday, you made sure you would run into her at some point during the day to let her know you were officially an adult. You remember being crushed when she laughed and rolled her eyes at you, informing you that you were still too young for her. But it didn’t stop you from getting what you wanted. You showed up pretty often at her job for six months after that until you got a new car. Ellie noticed your absence and went looking for you at your college. When she showed up to your dorm, it was from there the two of you formed a relationship. In the beginning, Ellie was quite gentle with you. It shocked you at first considering her reputation but you adored every second of it. You were fine if she used you too and Ellie knew that. After a while, that was what Ellie really loved most about you. How you were willing to try filthy things with Ellie just to please her, whether you liked it or not, and how you dressed how Ellie told you.

But Ellie always gets bored after a period of time, always needing something to happen so she isn’t in a routine. So she broke up with you right before your nineteenth birthday. To this day, your reaction to the news is still one of the best moments of Ellie’s life. You couldn’t stop blowing up her phone, begging her to come back. Showing up at her job and at her house just to ask her to tell you what you did wrong. It wasn’t until one day, you pushed past her and went straight to her bedroom, that she actually took you back. Walking in to see you fully undressed and on your knees waiting for her made her melt. You were wrapped around her finger completely and would do anything to please her. Even if it meant Ellie was just using you.

Once again, Ellie was acting strange. You knew this meant she was about to break up with you and you mentally started preparing yourself for it. You created scenarios in your head and created a script on what to say when she finally does it and how you would come back to her this time. You often considered just waiting for her to come to you but were too afraid that she wouldn’t. You needed her more than you’d like to admit and it’d kill you if she didn’t take you back or wanted you. 

Ellie took you to the bar to “dance,” she said. But you were left alone for a whole half hour, downing a variety of fruity cocktails until you could hardly see.

“Ellie,” you slurred under your breath, looking side to side to see if she was nearby. “Where the fuck are you?”

You stumbled out of your seat and stood up straight, pulling down on your skirt a bit before slowly walking through the crowd. You kept gently bumping into people which felt like you were being pushed due to how drunk you were. You’d hiccup out an apology before continuing your search. You stopped when you noticed a girl towered over another one against a wall, her hand brushing up and down the woman’s side. You thought your blurry eyes deceived you but from this distance, it looked like Ellie. Ellie was a lot of things but she sure as hell wasn’t a cheater. You began to tip toe over, too nervous for the unknown couple to see you so it wouldn’t seem as if you were being a creep if it wasn’t Ellie. But the more your eyes focused, you could see her camo jacket and messy short hair clearly. Your heart sank to your stomach, tears filling up your eyes and threatening to fall down. But the sadness that engulfed your heart quickly turned into anger. 

“Ellie!” you roared, catching her attention. She didn’t jump or seem surprised. She just sent you a sly smile while backing away from the girl who looked at you like you were crazy.

“Relax,” yelled Ellie calmly over the music. “We’re just talking. Making friendly conversation.”

“Yeah, too friendly!”

“What, I’m not allowed to talk to other people?”

“Who is that, Ellie? Your girlfriend?” the other girl questioned.

Ellie eyed you up and down with a smirk. Perfect, she thought. “Nah,” Ellie drawed out. “Just some chick.”

“Some chick? Some chick?!” you screeched. At this point, the whole bar was watching everything go down. Someone was already out looking for the shit security so they could put a stop to it.

“Yeah, some chick,” Ellie spat out at you. “Go get a ride home and leave me alone.”

Something took over you in that moment. You were used to Ellie’s little games but this was new. This was different. You didn’t care about the other toxic shit she did but this was unacceptable. You didn’t prepare yourself for this and was unsure what to do. Without a second thought, you charged towards her and back handed her so hard she lost her balance. She fell against the wall, her hand clutched to her cheek and eyes wide. You’ve never seen that expression on Ellie’s face before. She was so stoic, nonchalant and cool. You weren’t sure if it was hurt you were seeing or if she was impressed that you actually hit her.

“You wanna be that way, Ellie? Huh? Fine! I’ll leave you to it!”

Before you could say anything else, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and picked you up. “Hey, let her go, you don’t have to do that asshole!” you heard Ellie shout from behind you. You were steady beating and kicking the man but he kept a firm grip on you. Before you knew it, you were on your back and you yelped out in pain. “What the fuck, man?”

You opened your eyes to see Ellie shoving the security man inside, hearing him say something about calling the police. Ellie turned towards you and kneeled down. “You okay?”

She tried helping you up but you shoved her hand off, getting up on your own and backing away from her. “Leave… me… alone! God, this is all your fault!”

Ellie’s face dropped in anger. “You’re the one who fucking hit me!”

“Whatever, Ellie! I don’t want to talk about this anymore! I want you out of my life!”

“Fine! I’ll call you an uber and I’ll stay the fuck out of your life!”

While the two of you sat on the ground waiting for your uber, Ellie kept thinking about how happy she was. You hitting her was the last thing she expected and she was proud of you for it. She almost wanted to backtrack and tell you to come home with her, that she’d make it all better. But that wouldn’t be fun. It’s better to see how long it takes for you to break down and come running back. And it didn’t take long at all. The longest time was two and a half days. She suspected you’d think about it and try to hold out for three. The uber finally arrived after what felt like forever. You walked slowly towards it in silence, refusing to look back at Ellie. But once you were in the car, you glanced out the tinted windows. You could’ve swore she was smiling. A real smile, not her usual smirks or pursing her lips together in an awkward “smile” if you could call it that. She genuinely looked happy.

-

Four days had passed since the incident. Ellie was starting to wonder where you were, why you hadn't showed up or called crying. She kept telling herself you were holding out as long as you could.

A week had passed, Ellie was starting to worry. This wasn’t like you. Ellie’s house felt so empty without you, she felt like she would go crazy any second. She started spending the days on the couch in the living room, watching the door carefully and waiting for you to burst through it.

Two weeks. For the first time since she was a kid, Ellie was distraught. Confused. Hurt. Where were you? She was fighting the urge to call and text you. Now, this wasn’t like Ellie. Real feelings, wanting to skip work to show up at your door and beg for you to come back. She’d get on her knees if you asked, she’d kiss your feet and try her best to reason with you. She was willing to feel uncomfortable in her own skin just to get you back. 

Three weeks, Ellie started calling your phone. The first time it immediately went to voicemail. Ellie slammed her phone down on the floor and watched it shatter. Fine, you don’t want to talk? You’ll never be able to reach her again. Now, you’ll have to show up and boy did she want you to show up. She had so many thoughts she needed to let out, she needed to blame you for this when deep down she knew it was her fault.

One month. Ellie had gotten a new phone and was now texting you off an app.

where the fuck are you???

why wont you come over

why would u block me

what the fuck

wheres my sweet girl

i need you.

The texts popping up on your phone concerned you. You knew it was Ellie. You were done with her for good but you weren’t expecting her to reach out to you ever. You were devastated, crying yourself to sleep every night wondering why you were never good enough for her. She was cold. You knew that before you got with her, why were you so stupid to keep trying to get her attention? You just wished you could go back in time and change everything. 

please baby

come home

“Who’s that?” your mother asked as she entered the room.

“Ellie… I think I should go see her,” you said with a sigh.

“Honey, when is enough enough?”

You ignored your mom, walking past her and heading towards your bedroom. You shoved on your shoes and grabbed your keys, once again ignoring your mom’s warnings as you left the house. Maybe it’ll be different this time. It had to be.

-

You parked in Ellie’s driveway, sitting there for a second after turning off the ignition to collect yourself. You weren’t sure what you were walking into. A part of you was excited to see Ellie. You missed her terribly. But the other part of you was scared. Could you control yourself and not fall back into her arms? Is it possible that you really can be independent and move on with your life? You stepped out of the car and made your way towards the door, reaching up to knock. You flinched when it swung open, revealing Ellie with a slight crazed look in her eye. When she saw you standing there, looking exhausted and sad, she let out a sigh of relief. “Baby,” she whispered, holding the door wide open so you could come in. You walked inside and passed her, ignoring her open arms. 

“Come here,” she spoke once again after shutting the door. “Please?”

“Ellie… I just wanted to check on you, that’s all. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m not okay. You didn’t come back to me. I thought something was wrong.”

“There is something wrong.”

“Tell me,” she breathed, rushing towards you and gently grabbing your face. Her thumb began to caress your cheek, a gesture she hasn’t done since the two of you first started going out. You clenched your eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. You so badly wanted to fall apart. Maybe she’d listen to you this time and comfort you. Maybe she would change. “Baby, please.”

“You were flirting with another girl, Ellie. There’s a lot I can tolerate, a lot I can handle, but not that”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

“But it hurt me,” you responded, your voice cracking. A tear slipped down your face, Ellie quickly catching it with her thumb.

“I know, baby.”

“You ruined me…”

“Shh,” Ellie cooed, pulling your body against hers and resting her chin on your shoulder. “I know, baby. I know I did.”

“I don’t know why I’m this way,” you wept softly. “When is enough… enough?”

Ellie knew she finally did it this time. It made her heart ache. She was used to seeing you cry but this made her want to cry with you. She realized just how fucked in the head she was, hurting the only girl who ever truly loved her and looked past her flaws. Hurting the only girl she ever loved and still loves. Despite being together for years, Ellie couldn’t remember a time she told you that. It was always you saying it to her, Ellie responding with an “I know, me too.” But she can’t actually think of a time when she said it outright. She had to force herself to face her feelings if she wanted to keep you. She needed to stop playing her little games on you, pushing you away just to drag you along once you came crawling back. Ellie finally understood that she can’t live without you. And that meant having to change for you, do right by you, and be a better woman to you. You changed so much for her, it was only fair for her to do the same.

“You know I love you, right?” Ellie muttered. You froze, your grip on Ellie tightening.

“You… you wh-what?”

“I love you,” Ellie repeated. “I never say it but I do. I’m… an idiot.” She pulled away so she could look you in the eye. “I know I fuck up… a lot. I don’t want to do that again. I want to be better.”

You weren’t sure what to say. It meant a lot to hear that from Ellie. You knew she wouldn’t say it if she didn’t mean it, either. It was obvious to you from the beginning that Ellie was awkward discussing and being open about her feelings. Hell, most of the things you knew about her came from her step dad, Joel. She refused to talk about her past or talk about anything too personal. In all reality, you only knew the Ellie with the walls she built around herself. This was a huge step for her. And you wanted the wall to collapse even further. You wanted her to give herself completely to you as you’ve done with her.

You decided that words weren’t enough. Instead, you pressed your lips against hers, moaning softly at the contact. God, you missed her lips. Ellie’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. Her nails dug into your slightly exposed hip bone, causing you to whine. Soon enough, Ellie was picking you up and taking you to her bedroom. She threw you on the bed and crawled over you, eyes taking all of you in before stealing another kiss from you. The makeout session was sorta rough and messy, the two of you clawing at each other and groaning, desperate to be closer. 

“What do you need from me, baby?” Ellie asked between kisses.

“Hurt me… please, Ellie… hurt me.”

Ellie wasted no time grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking it back, forcing you to look at her. You moaned loudly, watching her carefully with your mouth hung open. She used her thumb to part your lips more before shoving it inside, making you suck and bite on her thumb.

“Do you think anyone else would have you if they knew how dirty you are?” Ellie asked in a condescending tone. You shook your head no. “Atta girl.” She pulled you towards her until you were sat up straight. She grabbed the bottom of your shirt and yanked it roughly over your head, throwing it down to the ground. You lifted up your hips to make it easier for Ellie to pull off your pants and underwear in one swift movement. “Fuck, baby. This mess for me?”

“Ellie-” Ellie cut you off with a slap before wrapping her hand around your throat, pressing the sides of your neck gently.

“All I need is a yes or no, got that?”

“Y-Yes,” you whined.

Ellie let you go and leaned forward to give you another kiss before shoving you back down. She hovered over you, her free hand travelling down your body until it reached your throbbing cunt. She pressed a finger against your clit, watching in awe as your body jolted from the contact. “You want more, pretty girl?”

“Please?”

Ellie smirked, bringing her fingers down to your entrance and pushing them in roughly. She placed her thumb on your clit and began rubbing in circles while her fingers slowly curled up inside you, going in and out. You arched your back in pleasure, groaning at the agonizingly slow pace she was going. It felt so good that you were almost lightheaded and the slow pace almost made it feel tortuous. 

“Fuck, I missed you like crazy. I was going insane without you. I was convinced I would die without you,” Ellie whispered in your ear. “I missed your pretty cunt. I missed how desperate you are for me. Are you still desperate for me?”

“Mmm, yes, Ellie, I-I am.”

“Hm.. I don’t think so. If you were, you would’ve been back in my bed weeks ago. You would’ve gotten this every night. Instead, you had your fingers and imagination and that’s just useless. It isn’t me.”

Ellie’s breathing grew heavy as she watched you get off on her fingers, your hips bucking up and down, needing for her to speed up. But she refused. She liked it better when you fucked yourself against her.

“You know I just wanted to piss you off. Tell me you know that, baby. Tell me.”

“I-I know, I know,” you moaned.

“No other woman could ever take your place. You’re my angel,” said Ellie. You opened your eyes to look at her, almost falling apart to see her eyes staring down at you with an unfamiliar softness. Something changed in Ellie while the two of you were apart. It was a good change. A change you hoped stayed.

“Fuck me, please E-Ellie. I need… I need to feel you inside me,” you mumbled out. “Please!”

Ellie wasted no time getting her fingers out of you, sucking them clean and moaning at the taste of you. She began to quickly undress herself, going to the drawer to take out the harness and toy. She slipped it on once she was finished putting it together and made her way towards you. She grabbed your hair, tugging it until you understood that she wanted you to stand up and get on your knees.

“Get it ready, baby,” she demanded, placing the tip of her strap on your bottom lip.

“But Ellie, I-I’m so wet already… please, I need you.”

Ellie gave you a quick yet harsh slap, shoving her fingers inside your mouth to open it. She pushed the strap inside, sighing at the sight of her cock in your mouth.

“I don’t care how wet you are, I just love facefucking you.”

You slowly bobbed your head back and forth, looking up at Ellie through your eyelashes. Ellie placed her hands on either side of your head and began to push you further down, thrusting her hips forward. The sight of you on your knees while Ellie fucks your face was enough for Ellie to believe she could cum by just watching you do this. She knew if she didn’t look away, she probably would. Especially when tears started to fill your eyes. She pulled it out, leaning down to your level to give you a sloppy kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ellie said when she broke the kiss. “I want you to bend over at the edge of the bed, okay baby?”

“Yes ma’am,” you responded, receiving a good girl from Ellie. You stood up and went to the side of the bed, bending over and slightly arching your back. You felt Ellie’s hands caress your ass before giving it a smack. You jumped at the contact and moaned, shivering as a rush of excitement ran through you. You felt the tip of Ellie’s strap brush against your entrance. Ellie thrusted harshly into you, moaning out at the sound of you calling her name.

“Is this what you needed?” Ellie asked, pulling out to thrust into you harder.

“Fuck!” you whined, gripping onto the bed sheets.

Ellie began fucking you roughly, at a speed that was so unbearable yet you couldn’t get enough. “Is it? Hm? Is this what you needed?”

You tried to answer but couldn’t. The only thing you could do was whine louder, the feeling of Ellie’s cock slamming into you making your brain foggy. You could only focus on one thing at a time and answering a question was the last thing on your mind. Ellie wrapped both of her hands around your neck and pulled you back, forcing you to arch even more. You let out a whimper at the sudden contact, unable to breath as the blood rushed to your head.

“You can’t be a braindead whore already,” Ellie spat out. “Tell me this is what you needed or I’ll stop.”

“I.. needed… th-this,” you gasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as you started to feel lightheaded. Ellie let go, smirking as you took a deep breath, your head dropping to the mattress from feeling too heavy. You could hardly think or even feel relief from being able to breathe again. Ellie wasn’t letting up, only fucking you harder and deeper that you were convinced she would tear you apart. The room was filled with the most obscene, filthiest noises. If anyone were to walk by the house, they’d probably think someone was watching porn on full volume. Or that someone was getting murdered.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” Ellie praised. “Taking every inch of my cock so well.”

You felt your legs start to wobble, unable to hold yourself up from how weak you were getting. “E-Ellie, please, I can’t hold m-myself up… anymore… please!”

“You can take it baby, I know you can,” Ellie encouraged you. But you couldn’t. You really couldn’t. You barely raised your head just enough to catch a glimpse of you and Ellie in the mirror in front of you. Fuck, the expression on her face as she fucked you made you whine even more. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her, glancing back and forth between her face and her tits bouncing. It wasn’t long until you felt close, your moans getting raspy as your voice gave out, your breathing uneven and legs trembling.

Ellie grabbed your hair and yanked your head up, forcing you to make eye contact with her through the mirror. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against your ear, kissing it softly and biting it afterwards. “I want you to watch yourself come undone for me,” she whispered. “Hold on a little longer. You’ve been taking my cock so well, keep going, baby.”

“I-I c-can’t!”

“Yes you can, don’t think about anything else. Just let go, I’ll keep you up.”

In a swift movement, Ellie pushed you forward slightly so that your left knee was on the mattress and grabbed your right leg to hold against her hip. While it relieved you to be off your feet, this new and strange position only made her go deeper. You cried out in pleasure, almost going crazy feeling your orgasm build up. You were so desperate for release, ready to collapse onto the bed and catch your breath. Ellie kept your head held up by your hair, her nails digging into your right thigh as she picked up the pace. It wasn’t only but a few seconds after that that you were cumming, screaming out her name and attempting to pull yourself away from Ellie by clawing at the bedsheets. Ellie let go of your hair and leg, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you back so that her cock was fully in you again. It was unbearable feeling her still thrusting inside of you, riding out your high.

“Don’t fight it, baby,” she said.

You gave up and crumbled beneath her, letting her slowly thrust into you as you started to come down. “Just like that… good girl.”

Ellie finally pulled out but kept her arms around you, picking you up and setting you on your feet. She turned you around to kiss you, her tongue going in circles around yours. She laid you down onto the bed and broke the kiss to lay next to you.

“Fuck,” you whined out, receiving a chuckle from Ellie. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You’re dramatic,” Ellie said with a playful scoff. “I fuck you that hard all the time.”

“Not… like that.”

“Mhm, like that.”

Ellie pulled you against her side, your head now resting on her bare chest. You focused on her heartbeat and smiled. You missed the sound of her heart beating. It soothed you to sleep every night. As if you were conditioned to it, you felt your eyes grow heavy and shut them, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep.

“Hey, did I say I was done?”

Your eyes shot open. Before you knew it, Ellie was pulling you on top of her. “I’m sleepy, Ellie,” you said with a yawn.

“I’ll let you sleep in a minute… I want you to ride me. You haven’t in so long. I know you can take it.”

Even though you wanted nothing more than to ride her, you were pretty convinced that you wouldn’t be able to. You were so weak from before, just now catching your breath.

“You know I’m not gonna push you if you can’t take it,” Ellie reassured. “But if you really think you can’t right now, that’s okay. I’ll hold you while you sleep.”

You gave Ellie a sleepy smile before bringing your hips up and lining the tip of her strap to your entrance. Ellie’s eyes widened. She wasn’t expecting that. She thought you would lay back down. She watched in awe as you slid down her length, whining out at the feeling of her filling you up once again. 

“My sweet girl,” Ellie whispered. “No matter how tired you are, you just can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”

You hummed out a response, slowly bouncing up and down on her strap. Your legs trembled as you tried picking up the pace.

“Hey, c’mere,” Ellie held out her arms, letting you lay down on her chest. “We can go as slow as you’d like.”

You nestled your face in Ellie’s neck as you slowly rocked your hips back and forth, whimpering softly as her tip brushed against your cervix. It was sore but so sensitive, enough to already send you over the edge again. But you didn’t want that yet. This softness Ellie had in her all of the sudden made you want to ride this out as long as you could. Even when you lost her virginity to her, she was gentle but not intimate whatsoever. But this was. You could feel the warmth in your chest growing more and more, loving this new feeling. You were so used to everything else that you never thought you’d want it to be this way. But with Ellie’s hands on your hips guiding you up and down slowly as she pressed kisses along your temple every now and then made you pray that something like this could happen again. You loved the pain Ellie made you feel, you loved being nothing but her fucktoy. But now, especially now, you knew you would need and want this too sometimes.

“Does it hurt?” Ellie asked, bringing one of her hands up your spine all the way to the back of your head. She caressed it gently, making you lift your head up and make eye contact with her. Her brows furrowed at the sight of tears in your eyes. “Wait, is this too much?”

“N-No,” you stuttered. “This is perfect. It’s… new.”

Ellie smiled. You grinned back at her, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I l-love you, Ellie.”

“I know, me…” Ellie paused and shut her eyes for a second. “I love you too.” As you continued to slowly ride her, you kept thinking that this is all you’ve ever wanted. To be enough for Ellie. Maybe you were stupid to feel it now, knowing that at any moment she could pull away again. And because of that, you knew you had to soak this all in. Focus extra hard on the things you don’t want to forget so that when she does leave, and you knew she probably would despite finally telling you she loved you, you’d have something beautiful to hold onto until you were back in her arms again.

[makeyoumine69]

helloo, can you do something like where patrick has a crush on you but your with someone else, how do you think he’ll react?

𝐀/𝐍: Hello dear anon! Thank you for your ask!💕

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]🪓

Thoughts: Well, if we're talking about the canonical version of Patrick, he probably wouldn't care if you had a partner, because this man saw no obstacles on his way to the object of his obsession. It could also be that Bateman would first try to get to know you better and find useful information about your partner to play around with. This bastard would manipulate the facts and try to gaslight you, he would try to instill the idea of you breaking up with your date as if it was your own decision. But if you still didn't buy it, Patrick might eventually turn to what he was so good at—killing people he didn't like.

Drabble:

Sitting on one of the benches in Central Park, you watched Patrick walk back and forth in front of you, his hands hidden in the pockets of his dark blue coat. 

"I still don't understand one thing," the man murmured thoughtfully, glancing at the cloudy sky from time to time. "You told me your partner didn't treat you right. And I remember it so well, you can't fool me by saying that you didn't."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. "Uh, if I only knew that you would use all my words against me... I would never tell you this," you replied, but there was no negativity in your tone, just a slight hint of nervousness. "My partner...he's a complicated person and we're having a really hard time in our relationship...but that doesn't mean I'm going to have an affair behind their back." You explained, and it made him stop pacing and focus his attention entirely on you and you alone. "Although... I do enjoy spending time with you."

Oh, that little praise of yours was like balm to his ego. Bateman grinned haughtily and gave you a devious glance. "Of course you do," his low chuckle, the way he smiled as if he already had you in his hands, only caused more anger to build up in your chest, but you managed to keep your composure. "I doubt your dear friend will ever be able to take you to the places I have... do they even know about it? About all the dinners, launches...dates we've had?"

"They weren't dates!" You retorted and quickly got to your feet to face him, and even though you tried to look confident next to him, his looming figure still made you weak in the knees. "We never kissed, we never... I never even thought about it!"

"Really?"

A broad, foxy smile still played on his smug face, and it became even more cheeky as he took a step closer to you, almost brushing your noses. The unexpected closeness hit you like a sunstroke in the middle of fall, it was abnormal and you didn't even know how to react. Patrick's lips were only a few inches away from yours, they looked so plump and kissable, but then you shook off all the little thoughts about how his lips would feel when the two of you finally kissed.

"Patrick, we can't," you turned your head to the side in protest at the last moment, and Bateman pecked your cheek instead. "Uh...listen..."

"No, you listen to me," the man cut you off and placed both hands on your shoulders, their weight feeling oddly comforting, almost euphoric. "You say you need them so much, yet you keep seeing me," his words were only a whisper as he drew near your ear, the heat of his steady breathing scorching your skin. "Something's definitely not right. Don't you think so?"

Your mind was a total mess, at some point you even felt disgusted because Patrick was right. Your current relationship had come to a standstill, and your partner wasn't really trying to fix it. Such relationships were only draining, but did you really know Bateman well? What kind of man was he? Money and wealth could make almost any person act like a master of the world, but the nature of Patrick's arrogance was different and twisted.

Tilting his head to the side, Bateman tittered and slowly, almost imperceptibly, pressed the knuckles of his hand against your cheek. "I know you have a big heart, darling," he muttered, leaning closer, his thumb tracing invisible spirals along your jawline. "And I know you even care about people like your partner, but they don't deserve it, believe me. It will do them good... if you gently tell them that it is all over. You don't want them to get bruised, right?"

Why did his words sound so... disturbing?

Ignoring the knotting feeling in your stomach, you didn't flinch and let him plant another kiss on your burning cheek, the sweet scent of his cologne wafting around you like a cobweb, binding you to him and you could swear you were literally paralyzed for a moment.

"I need... I need some time to think things over," you finally managed to say, raising your dizzy eyes to his walnut ones. "If you really...are interested in me, I hope you will understand and give me some space."

He hummed at first, but didn't remove his hand from your face; in fact, he placed another hand on the back of your neck to hold you in place. Then the man pulled you closer so that you nestled against his strong chest as he hugged you tightly.

"Well, hmmm, I guess you're right," Patrick's heart was thumping against his ribcage and you could literally feel it, somehow surprised that men like him could have hearts at all. "But don't make me wait long."

And there you fell into this man's trap.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[lenniexprime]

Rejection.

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.”- C. S. Lewis

┍━━━━━»•» «•«━┑

tfa! optimus x teen! senior! reader.

rejection fucking sucks dude. I hate getting those rejection letters. I really do. But honestly, I can't help but appreciate and be thankful for the schools I've gotten into. However, something about this is grief is only letting me cope through writing it. Share it with me, yeah?

┕━»•» «•«━━━━━┙︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ - Not Edited

Look at you... A college-bound senior, getting ready to take on whatever comes your way.

You've made it thus far...what can stop you now? The challenges are getting good grades, staying on top of things, and doing well on every test. You stayed up most nights, studying or doing homework. You've skipped out on days at the base or to hang with the rest of your friends on days or weeks before tests.

You may have messed around years before, but this year, this is your senior year. No room for mistakes, no room for too much error.

You've impressed yourself and others with such determination to get good grades on everything.

If you were being honest with yourself, that really wasn't the hard part. The hard part was the fact that you had to apply to colleges, get the right documents in, and ask for recommendation letters.

The stress took and is still taking over the majority of your whole life.

If you didn't think the weekends were getting more like weekdays before, then you definitely are now. You could barely catch a break and if you ever did it was so hard to get back into the grind of things. As time went on, you found you had little interest in doing things you enjoyed before. You looked at your video games differently, you could barely stay entertained for a whole movie, and your homework wasn't getting any more interesting.

One day, you were sitting in base, telling Sari about the dangers that are ahead of her in the years coming, but when two bots came in just as you were talking about how you found no interest in things anymore, she couldn't stop but just stare back at you while staring at the bots behind her, working on something.

You honestly didn't care about talking in front of the bots about your problems though. You didn't think they'd care that much about the situation.

Sari couldn't get the look of worry off of her little face as she stared between you and the bots. You didn't care much about it until she got up and left as soon as Bumblebee came.

You sigh and lay back on the couch, looking to the side, hearing thumps behind you.

"We are no strangers to losing interest in what we may use to enjoy due to excessive stress, but that does not mean you can't try," Ratchet says crossing his arms. "It is always nice to have a hobby or something to distract you," Optimus chimes in, his deep voice making you finally look back. You sigh.

"Also we're here, it doesn't hurt to talk to others during times of struggle," He adds.

Ratchet then walks off, leaving Optimus and you behind.

"My communication issues suck, but not only that but it's hard for me to try to communicate my teenage feelings to a 8-year-old and alien robots who have little to no knowledge of what I could be going through in here," You point at your head.

"Yes, we may not know, but at least you know you have a support system," he says quietly. "You were talking to Sari earlier, yes?" he asks rhetorically.

You close your eyes, shaking your head, putting it down. "Yeah Optimus, thank you," you mumble. "It's just hard, plus not only do I have to stay on top of grades, but I'm really nervous about being accepted to these schools," you say, hands motioning how you feel.

You look up at him again. "I'm scared of getting rejected..denied..worse," I say mumbling again.

Optimus looked at you, living in his own stress and despair, it's not easy seeing such a young human like you stress like he does. Everyone has their own responsibilities, but it gets to a point. He doesn't want you to be scared of rejection, he wants you to accept it, to learn from it, to push you through it. He remembers how he was, getting kicked out of the academy, he felt rejected and denied. He was still trying to recover. He wants you to understand that it's okay to make mistakes, to make tough decisions, or to be okay with a school denying you. It didn't define who he was (partially) so it shouldn't defy you.

"I understand your fear, I was there once, I had the pain of being denied, of being rejected almost," He went on, sitting next to you. "You have to understand that rejection and failure make us stronger people," He finishes, looking at you. "Don't be afraid to be sad, but don't let it take over your whole life. It's one moment out of many successes you're yet to have." He smiles at you. You smile back, finding some peace in what he had spoken to you. Maybe he found peace in his own words too.

[gundamthey17]

Day 5 of Payneland Promptfest 2024

I am in fact still working on the Payneland Promptfest 2024 prompts..... maybe I'll finish by December of 2025

Day 5: Snuggling (alive!au)

(the ao3 link has more info about the backstory for this au if anyone's curious. it's not super necessary for this fic, but i spent an inordinate amount of time on it because i am incapable of writing a story without context)

Summary: The Dead Boy Detectives (who are actually very much alive, thank you) find that the heat has broken in their flat-slash-office. 

xxx

23 December 1990

“Charles, do stop kicking the radiator.”

"You tried your way. Now it's my turn, innit."

Edwin, who was seated at the desk and holding the phone to his ear, sighed. "If tools were ineffective, I highly doubt blunt force will do the trick."

"Won't know until we try, will we?"

Edwin rolled his eyes as Charles continued kicking.

"What did maintenance say?" he asked between kicks.

"I am still on hold."

"Bloody brills."

Edwin pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign of a budding headache. Charles knew he ought to stop kicking the radiator, but he needed to vent his frustration somehow.

"You are not going to accomplish anything beyond potentially hurting yourself or breaking it further. If you would just be - yes, hello." Edwin motioned for Charles to be quiet. He covered one ear as he spoke into the phone. "Yes, that is correct. No, we still have power, just no heat... I beg your pardon?"

Charles looked up at the change in Edwin's tone. 'What?' he mouthed, but Edwin shook his head and continued speaking.

"But we have no heat! It is snowing, for heaven's sake! Is there no way you can - but I - very well. We will see you then." Edwin hung up the receiver with more force than was strictly necessary.

"What did they say?"

"As it is currently after business hours, and the start of a holiday, they cannot send anyone out to fix the heat until Wednesday."

"What? Can't you try the emergency maintenance number?"

"That was the emergency number. Apparently, lack of heat in December does not constitute an emergency," Edwin said, his voice dripping with contempt.

"What a load of bollocks!" Charles looked around their flat-slash-office. He shivered. "They seriously expect us to spend three days like this?"

"Evidently so."

"Bollocks," Charles said again.

Half an hour later, Edwin was still sitting at the desk. He had put on his coat, but otherwise seemed to be steadfastly ignoring the rapidly falling temperature inside the office.

Charles, wearing two jumpers and his jacket, had other ideas. He was in the process of raiding the bedroom and the closet for every single blanket they owned, and tossing them into a growing pile on the small couch. Even the tiny, crocheted throw blanket got added to the pile. (They had received it as partial payment for a case. It was canary-yellow and supposedly enchanted to always smell good without ever needing to be washed. It was too small to really make a difference, but Charles had already committed to finding every blanket, so onto the pile it went.) He muttered a steady stream of curses under his breath as he worked. When he had gathered every last blanket, and the couch itself was hardly visible anymore, he climbed into the middle of the pile and nestled himself in. Even after all of that, Charles was still shivering.

He also hadn’t grabbed anything to entertain himself with, or turned on the telly, before settling into his blanket nest. And once he was inside, he was loath to come out again. Surely, at some point, physics would take over and the blankets would have to start doing their job. Surely Edwin would finish whatever he was working on and – and what? Talk to him? Anything to occupy his mind and distract him from both the boredom and the bloody freezing office. He tried to wait it out, to be quiet and patient and let Edwin work.

He did not last long.

“Edwin,” Charles whined.

Edwin hummed but did not look up from his writing.

“I’m still cold.”

“And what exactly would you like me to do about that?”

It was a good question, that. Charles hadn’t actually thought about it. But the answer became immediately obvious. “Come sit with me.”

Edwin’s pen stopped. He glanced up at Charles. “What?” he asked, and there was a slight edge to his voice that Charles didn’t know how to interpret.

“Please? It’ll be warmer with both of us.”

"I find it improbable that you can still be cold under all those blankets."

"I've got bad circulation. Look!" Charles held out his hand. True to his word, his fingertips were pale and bloodless.

Edwin frowned at that, but he shook his head. “I am busy. We have a case, if you recall.”

“So? It’s a holiday, and clearly no one else is working. If emergency maintenance can take a holiday, we ought to be able to.”

“I am sorry, Charles. There is simply too much to do.” Edwin started writing again.

"Edwin! If you don't come over here, I'm gonna freeze to death."

"Charles," Edwin said in a scolding tone. "Given your history, you should not joke about such things."

"Given my history, I'm allowed to joke about such things," Charles retorted. "Come on, I know you’re cold too. I can see you shivering."

Edwin sat up straighter and pulled at the collar of his cardigan. “I am perfectly fine.”

Charles sighed. He suspected now that he knew the true cause of Edwin’s reluctance, but he was unsure if he ought to press the issue. The wind picked up, rattling the window, and Charles shuddered reflexively. Abandoning caution, he said, "Look, mate, I know you don't like touching, but if there was ever a time -"

"I never said I don't like touching," Edwin said quickly.

Charles looked at him curiously. "Didn't have to say it, did you. You go stiff every time I so much as pat your shoulder."

Edwin set down his pen and pressed his fingertips together. "I... am not used to it," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But that doesn't mean I do not like it."

“Would you be willing to give it a shot? Please?” Charles hated the note of desperation that had crept into his voice. “I’m really bloody cold, mate.”

Edwin sighed and stood up. "Let me put the kettle on, and then I'll join you."

"Aces!" Charles couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

—--

Charles made an opening in his mountain of blankets so that Edwin would be able to sit next to him on the couch. Edwin handed him a steaming mug of tea and took his seat. They wrapped the blankets around themselves, their shoulders just barely brushing together.

Charles stared pensively out the office window at the falling snow. "Do you ever think about what would happen if we got caught? Do they arrest people for truancy? Or would they just split us up and force us to go back to our parents?"

"I think the latter is the most likely, though I shudder to think of the consequences. My father would have me institutionalized."

"For reals?" Charles turned to look at Edwin, but Edwin's eyes remained focused on the opposite wall.

He nodded. "He said as much before sending me to the school." They never mentioned St. Hilarion's by name if they could help it. "Said it was my last chance to prove that I could be... normal."

Charles snorted derisively. Then, feeling like that wasn't enough to fully communicate his disgust, he added, "That's bollocks."

"That is all assuming, of course, that the demon does not find me first." They never used Sa'al's name either. Edwin was unsure whether it could hear its name being spoken, and neither of them were keen to find out.

"That thing is not gonna take you away from me. Not a chance in – well, you-know-where." He gave a crooked grin.

The ghost of a smile flitted across Edwin's face. He took a cautious sip of his tea before asking, "And what about your parents?"

With a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Charles said, "My dad would probably just beat me senseless. He’s done it for lesser offenses." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and let out a single, humorless chuckle. 

Edwin finally looked at him. "I will make sure that never happens again," he said fiercely.

Not quite knowing what to say, Charles nodded. "Cheers to that," he muttered, lifting his mug.

"It is irrelevant anyway. We are not going to be caught. We are presumed dead; no one is looking for us. We just have to make it for another year, and then we will be of age and we won't have to worry about the police or our parents."

"And we're gonna figure out how to undo a demon sacrifice, so we won't have to worry about that bastard anymore either."

Edwin's brow knitted. "I do not know if the ritual can be nullified without the caster. Since Simon and the others are all dead, it may not be possible."

"We will figure out a way. I promise."

Edwin suddenly pushed the blankets off and stood up. Charles’ face crumpled as he feared he’d gone too far. Edwin noticed and smiled placatingly. "It is all right. I'm just getting a book."

Charles sighed, relieved. He smiled too, a genuine one this time. "Brills! How about another one of those Poirot stories? I like him. He's a fun chap."

"He is a fun chap," Edwin agreed. He grabbed a large hardcover book from the bookshelf nearest to the desk, and returned to the couch.

Charles shifted under the mound of blankets so that he could put his arm around Edwin's shoulders. "This okay?" he asked quietly.

Edwin nodded. He cautiously leaned back against Charles' arm before opening the book. "What about The Adventure of the Clapham Cook? I do not believe we have read that one yet."

"Don't think so. Let's hear it."

Edwin cleared his throat. "At the time that I was sharing rooms with my friend Hercule Poirot, it was my custom to read aloud to him the headlines in the morning newspaper, the Daily Blare.”

—

Several short stories later, Charles had fallen asleep. His head lolled against Edwin's shoulder. Edwin was surprised to find himself feeling quite comfortable. Between the blankets and their combined body heat, he hardly noticed the frigid temperature of the room. He gently set the book aside. Then, hesitantly, he rested his head against Charles'. Charles did not stir. With Charles' comforting warmth next to him, and his soft curls under Edwin's cheek, Edwin closed his eyes. Soon, he too fell asleep.

[quill-pen]

I have to wonder how Bess would act in regard to actually meeting Orin for the first time, and how that would go.

She’s only heard of his through second hand stories from Connie or TeTe. She also sees articles and news stories about him - this handsome, Dutch-American man with obsidian hair (now graying slightly at the temples), aquiline nose, and uncannily blue eyes. He’s very tall and sleekly dressed with perfect posture with graceful poise. Even his voice is deep and resonate in interviews, and he’s very well-spoken and charismatic. He has every interviewer beaming ear-to-ear after their interview with his wit and humor.

When he arrives in London, man is in full-acting mode with his charms with her.

“Elizabeth Sullivan. My, I’m charmed to finally make your acquaintance. I have heard much about you from my wife. It’s such a joy to find some pleasant company in this abyss of a city, and I believe we can do good by each other.”

AKA, ‘I’ve got a blank check with your name on it for details. Where is she?’

Ooh, the potential was amazing here! So, we did the thing again! I hope it's what you were expecting from all the previews I sent.😉

Spilled Soup

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, mention of addiction, abuse of women, violence, language, blood, looming dread, Orin Spiegler (he's a trigger all on his own), Bess' puns, sickeningly sweet, cute, and sappy couples, one of whom just needs to KISS ALREADY YOU BLOODY DAMN FOOLS

Rated T

~⚔️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️⚔️~

"Well, that's the last of Eddie's potholders sold. Can't believe how they flew out of the stall! Like hotcakes!"

Bess snorted as she reorganized the produce again. "More like hotpads," she remarked, shooting a cheeky smirk her bestie's way.

Connie looked up from their money box with a slightly puzzled expression. For a few moments, her eyebrows were lightly knitted together as she worked through Bess' statement, but then her face lit up with realization. "Oh!" With a beaming grin, she threw back her head in a snorting laugh. "I get it!"

"Sounds like we missed out on something quite amusing," a familiar voice that was smooth and buttery declared.

Both American women looked up from their work to be greeted with the lovely sight of two handsome gentlemen headed towards their market stall. Standing at least a head taller than every other person in the farmer's market, billionaire twins, Ebenezer and Ebenezar Scrooge already made a sight in the little square. Their tailored suits and manicured good looks only added to the entrancing sight.

Bess had heard Connie mention the choice brand for the Twins was "Brioni". That didn't really mean all that much to Bess besides the fact the men wore the suits well and looked breathtakingly sharp. Particularly her dear Wolf, Ebenezar. As it was, with the way the afternoon sun was shining on her favorite twin's silvery locks, making them glint like warm steel slowly melting from his crown towards his shoulders, Bess had to lean against the veggie stand to keep from feeling as though her knees would buckle at the sight.

Great job, Bess, the snarky little voice inside her head cut through her thrall. You just had to pick today to look like a bum. Couldn't even put on a little makeup or pick a shirt that actually fits. At least she'd knotted up her oversized t-shirt around her middle; so it was apparent she had a waist. And the way the overly large neck hole fell down over her shoulder did have a flirty little vibe to it. She hoped. It helped that it had slipped down over her less scarred shoulder. She hoped her Wolf would notice, but it was impossible to tell behind the stylish sunglasses he wore. He was smiling though; that was always a good thing. He was probably smiling at both her and Connie, but Bess liked to think his smile was specifically for her.

Connie beamed towards the men and moved out of the stall's working station. "You did!" she chirped as she sauntered towards Ebenezer. Happily, she slipped a delicate hand into the large, extended one of her beau and let him pull her in for a sweet kiss of greeting. She splayed her free hand over his heart as she leaned into it, slightly popping a heeled foot skyward as she did so.

Bess couldn't help but smile at the couple. The pair had been officially involved for several months now, and it was beyond apparent that they were simply falling ever deeper and deeper into love every day. Bess' heart swelled with joy for Connie. The woman was loving kindness incarnate who deserved a wonderful man who loved her just as much as she loved him. And Ebenezer Samuel Scrooge (or "Adonis" as Bess enjoyed calling him) continued to prove himself as such a man.

Bess flitted her eyes from the lovers back to her handsome Wolf and couldn't help but snort in amusement. Even with his glasses, it was obvious that he was also looking at the pair, as he was grimacing in a cartoonishly disgusted way. As a sibling herself, Bess felt it; she would react the same way if she witnessed any of her siblings snogging (and it would be even more traumatizing for her, as she was the eldest by quite a margin and had helped raise her brothers and sisters from babies).

Her stifled giggle apparently caught the attention of the tall, broad-shouldered billionaire as his head turned just a bit more in her direction and he smiled, perhaps a little sheepishly. Bess' stomach did ecstatic somersaults over that soft little curl of his mouth. She hoped the flush she felt in her face could be played off as working in the summer balminess. And now you look like a damn strawberry--great.

Adonis and Connie parted lips, and the ginger slipped under the lanky man's arm into his side. His arm wrapped easily around her, his hand coming to rest naturally in the curve of her waist, just above her hip. They fit so wonderfully together. "Bess made a rather clever little pun," Connie explained her laughter moments before.

A dramatic groan left Wolf and Bess turned her gaze back upon him, mischief sparkling in her midnight-colored eyes. "And just what are you groaning for, Mister?" she drawled, perching her fists sassily upon her hips. "You didn't even hear it."

Wolf smirked right back at her, matching her playful energy. "I don't need to have heard a pun to know it was rubbish," he remarked. "They're all rubbish by default."

"Hmph. Your attitude is rubbish."

"Well, as a Yank, you would know, wouldn't you?"

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, a certain tea party from long ago comes to mind."

"Oh, puh-lease!"

"And ever since then, you lot have been quite determined to be characterized as snappish and uncouth."

Bess let out a squawk of mock-offense before curling up her fists and moving into a ready position. "Okay, you smarmy Redcoat," she snarled playfully. "Come on--get your dukes up. I'll knock the couth right outta you."

Wolf folded his hands behind his back and stood tall as he took a long step toward the fiesty woman. He chortled teasingly, "And here I thought you were going to say something about rubbishing my face in my words."

Bess shot straight up with a maniacal grin and pointed sharply at the man. "Ah-ha! A pun! I'll convert you yet, Ebenezar Charles Scrooge!"

The Englishman chuckled as he braced an arm against the support pole Bess stood beside and leaned into it. He bowed over Bess' smaller size a bit as he smirked roguishly down into her pretty, freckled face. "I very much doubt it," he chuckled. He removed his shades to expose the playful twinkle in his slate-blue eyes. "But I'll enjoy watching your attempts." The man had the audacity to wink.

It was all Bess could do to not melt into a puddle. The wink, his proximity, his crooked smile, the way a rebellious lock of hair curled down his brow from his slicked-back, lengthening mane, the adorable little creases that formed at the corner of his eyes and around his mouth and nose; it was all almost too overpowering for her pathetically smitten heart. If only she could reach up and take his gorgeous face between her palms and kiss him stupid. But that was completely out of the question, so the young woman silently hoped he would smile at her like that forever instead.

"Far stranger things have happened," Adonis responded to his brother's prior statement. There was a bit of significance in the tone of his voice.

"Well, are you lovely ladies finished for the day?" Adonis quickly moved on, turning his attention to the woman held in the crook of his arm. He smiled dotingly at her, his icy blue eyes sparkling and warm. "I was thinking it might be nice to sweep you off for lunch," he murmured to her.

Connie beamed back just as besottedly. "Oh, that sounds lovely," she agreed. "But I'm afraid we're not quite finished. The market still has another couple hours."

"But it's pretty much over," Bess added. "Business is usually a snail's pace the last hour or so. We might get a little surge near the end, but mostly anybody who was gonna come to the market has been here already. Why don't you go on to lunch, Con? I'll close down the stall."

"Oh, Bess, that's so sweet of you, but I don't want to leave you to finish up alone. That's not fair. And do you remember the last market day? We had a tidal wave of customers in the last 30 minutes that cleared us out. Even with all of us here, we almost couldn't keep up."

"Don't be ridiculous! That was one bizarre market day out of all the ones we've sold at. If it happens again, I'll handle it."

"What about change?" Bess notoriously struggled with counting back change. And with most numbers in general, honestly.

"... I'll just tell people we're taking tips."

"Which is no more than you lovely ladies deserve," Wolf chimed in earnestly, "providing such exemplary produce and unique, quality merchandise at such affordable prices."

Bess smiled at him. Maybe it was silly but hearing such compliments about her produce come from the handsome businessman filled her with a wonderfully ticklish pride. "Precisely. Thank you."

Connie snorted and rolled her cornflower blue eyes in amusement. "Be that as it may," she agreed half-jokingly (Bess really did deserve some extra gratitude for all the diligent time, work, and love she poured into her garden, as far as the redhead was concerned), "I think it's better two people close the stall. Just in case things do get crazy again."

"I'll stay and help her."

The declaration was something of a surprise, and all eyes that turned to Ebenezar displayed it. However, the man didn't even seem to register anyone else's gaze except that of the curly-haired woman. He smiled down at her as she stared up at him in amazement.

"I... Y-You will?" Bess practically croaked. Her throat suddenly felt dry and her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth like it was glued there. Heat flushed throughout her body at the thought of being left alone with her handsome and charismatic muse of a crush. Excitement and existential dread curled around and danced in her stomach.

What if something finally actually happened between them, while they were closing the stall? Maybe they'd reach for something at the same moment and touch hands and there would be that electric spark that was always mentioned in love stories. Then they would meet eyes and realize feelings that had been there all along and the rest would be history. Maybe they'd be working in the back of the stall and keep bumping into each other and surrender to hidden passions with a kiss. Maybe Wolf would declare that he'd had feelings for her all along, that the look she sometimes thought she caught in his eyes was real, and he would ask if she'd be interested in a relationship.

Or maybe, Wolf would see just exactly how stupid she was on the cashbox and when it came to math, and he would just write her off as a complete moron and Bess would never hear from him again: "It's been a pleasure knowing you, Ms. Sullivan, but I'm afraid being around someone so imbecilic could only hamper my own intelligence. In my line of work I can't afford to risk such a thing. Good luck to you and, please, don't seek me out again."

As all scenarios swarmed her mind, Bess wasn't sure whether she felt more like walking on air or crawling into a hole; her stomach decided for her and settled on mildly ill.

"You don't mind staying?" Connie asked, something that was a hint of a smirk curling her painted lips as her gaze flickered between the two.

"Not at all," Ebenezar assured them. "With Bess working the customers and merchandise and me on the moneybox, we'll have everything in order." Almost without thinking, the Englishman reached out and wrapped an arm around Bess' shoulders, tucking her into his side. "Shipshape and Bristol fashion, yes?" He grinned between the two Yanks, eyes lingering on the woman at his side as she continued to stare up at him in awe, the freckles on her face popping through her adorable blush. The grin at play on his lips softened rather significantly as he gazed at Bess. A slight pinkish hue spread across his own cheeks, the cheerful spark in his eyes mellowing into an affectionate warmth. "I'm sure we'll make... quite the team," he murmured so softly he could only have been speaking her.

Somehow, his touch and those words soothed Bess turbulent emotions and quieted her mind. A gentle smile curled her mouth as her eyes softened. Instinctively, she leaned into the man's side, bringing an arm up around his back to anchor herself to him. "I'm sure we will," she agreed quietly. Once again, she felt the overwhelming urge to surge in and kiss him. And, perhaps it was wishful thinking, but she thought she caught a glint of longing flash through the man's eyes as well, perhaps a slight flicker of his gaze from her eyes to her mouth and back again.

A loud throat-clear broke the daze the pair was caught up in and drew their attentions to the couple, both of whom were smirking and sharing knowing looks. But before Wolf and Bess had a chance to inquire about it, Adonis and Connie were taking their leave.

"We'll leave you two to it, then," Ebenezer stated as he led Connie away, his arm still wrapped comfortably around her waist. "We're off."

Connie followed, practically floating on air within his embrace. "Good luck!" she chirped with a small wave. Then she added with a rather suggestive wink, "And have fun!"

Bess and Ebenezar watched after them in some bafflement.

"What was that about?" the Englishman muttered.

The American shook her head as she raised a confused eyebrow. "Search me."

~⚔️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️⚔️~

"Well, it certainly seems as though you did well today, Pet," Michael Pippersnipe commented, his Irish brogue chipper and optimistic as always. The wiry little Irishman formally served as the girls' landlord, but he was truly much more of a friend and surrogate grandfather in many ways, a fact which was currently showcased in how he was helping Bess and Ebenezar pack up the market stall.

"It was a good day," Bess agreed as she carefully packed away the few jars of homemade, canned soups and stews left. Her gaze flitted towards Ebenezar. True to his word, the man had spent the last couple hours by her side, bantering and joking with her as he helped with last-minute sales and yet another final frenzy of late customers right before the market closed down for the day. Now, whistling as he worked, the banker picked up the box of upcycled and thrifted treasures he'd just finished packing and carried it away to pack into the bed of the classic, pine-green farm truck of Pippersnipe's. Catching Bess' gaze as he walked off, her smirked and winked at her.

The woman's speckled cheeks heated with a blush, her plump lips arching into a smitten little smile. Her Wolf was even more of a sight now than his had been at his arrival, blazer and waistcoat discarded, tie loosened, shirt partially unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled back, and suspenders hanging loose from his waist. Bess bit her bottom lip. She could still clearly see each moment he'd disrobed (for lack of a better word) fresh and vivid in her mind; how his shoulders moved, the flex of his muscles, the nimbleness of his fingers as he'd expertly rolled those sleeves back. Couple that all with the grin that hadn't left his face all afternoon, the clear, hearty laugh of his that she'd heard so often for the last two hours, and the way he had interacted with the customers in such a kind and genuine manner, somehow, Bess was now even more infatuated with Ebenezar Scrooge than she'd ever been. And that was a feat.

Yes, Bess thought to herself as she turned her focus back to packing boxes. Butterflies tickled through her insides. It's been a very good day.

"You got that, Pip?" Bess asked, her attention suddenly snapping to Pippersnipe with worry as the little man hefted up a box of leftover produce. While he was quite healthy and spritely for his age, Bess and her friends were always careful to make sure their darling of a landlord didn't try to strain himself. After all, he was a good man that had worked hard to be able to attain his current status and privileges in life, and he deserved to take it easy in his late years. However, much to their (often) terror, the man simply seemed to refuse to slow down.

Pippersnipe just beamed a grin as he walked off. "Needn't worry you lovely head about me, Pet," he assured her without a hint of strain in his voice. "I've got it."

Bess nodded, her nerves for her friend tempering some. Then she focused on her work again; she was going to need some more packing material to fill in all the empty space so the jars didn't clatter around. Luckily, they always brought plenty of extra old newspapers and cloth bits to the market days, just in case of such a need. The young woman slipped into the little tent at the back of the stall that served as their storage area (and, occasionally, a safe place for parents to attend to the needs of their little ones).

Bess was gathering up all the material she thought she might need into another crate when a voice reached her:

"Hello? Anyone here?" It was a man's voice, but that was all Bess really registered in her currently distracted mind.

"I'll be right with you!" Bess called back automatically. "Just a minute!"

By the time Bess had her crate full of newspapers and cloth scraps, a shadow had come over the entrance of the tent and there was a sharp tinkle of shattering glass. Ruined lobster bisque splattered over the cobblestone and Bess' blue, floral-patterned rain boots. Bess gasped and jumped with a start.

"Oh!" the voice from earlier exclaimed, coming from right behind Bess in the tent. "I do so apologize for that. I'm afraid it wasn't wiped down properly; it slipped from my hand." Something in his voice sounded insincere, almost mocking in tone. And now that it was much closer and Bess wasn't distracted by something else, it sounded much more familiar.

A chill settled over Bess as a vehement bitterness ensnared her insides, hardening every last nook and crevice of her being to stone. No. It couldn't be! The woman slowly turned to face the figure behind her and, most unfortunately, found that it could be. And, in fact, was.

A towering, broad-shouldered man filled Bess’ view, his eyes fog-bright even against his otherwise ghostly pallor. A crown of offensively jet-black hair, streaked with a few grays, shimmered like an oiled cap in the London sun. In some ways, very slight ways, there was a resemblance of the Scrooge Twins within him. Unfortunately, aesthetics were only as deep as the similarities went.

Bess went rigid as a statue. How?

“Do you have a moment to chat?” the man asked. Then, he laughed softly at his own jest. “Well, silly me--of course you do.”

Bess barely held back a grimace. Compared to the easy grace that someone like Ebenezar spoke with, every syllable of this man’s cadence was just slightly unsettling. It reminded Bess of trying to play an out-of-tune piano. The whisper of normality was there, but each sound was... off. There was a forced levity to his greeting, like an inexperienced adult trying to make small talk with a frightened child. Or someone they saw as a child, more accurately. The man even stooped over slightly to speak with her, his gaze licking up and down her frame.

Bess fought back a disgusted shiver.

After examining the cuff of his Kiton suit sleeve to make sure that it was unsullied from the accident before, the man flashed her an uncannily white smile. “Are you all by yourself here?” he asked, as if he couldn’t already see she was. He glanced around the booth, humming idly while doing so. “What quaint little offerings and… trinkets. Hm.” He nudged a wicker basket with his toe like it was roadkill in the way of his car. With a shake of the head, he refocused on the woman before him, giving her another look of appraisal.

“…You have an American accent,” he stated. “I heard before--when you told me to wait. Haha. It’s so nice to hear a familiar voice here.”

Bess said nothing, simply continued to stare him down, refusing to tear her eyes from him.

He partially circled her, slinking like a panther as he moved. “What’s your name?” For such a simple question, it sounded so sinister.

Perhaps that was what broke Bess' stupor. "I think you probably know exactly who I am," she finally answered, her voice even and controlled. "Orin Spiegler."

The man paused in his stride, and for a moment Bess thought she caught a glimpse of annoyance cast a pall over his conventionally handsome face. Perhaps it was just in her imagination because barely a blink later, Orin was smiling at her. It was probably supposed to be an amiable smile, but all it did was give Bess the creeps. "You know who I am," he stated.

Bess hoped the tinge of worry she heard in his voice wasn't just wishful thinking. She wanted him nervous of her; afraid he couldn't pull the wool over her eyes and charm his way around her. She wanted him scared. Scared in the same ways he'd made Connie feel for nearly twenty years and then some. "I'm very well aware," she assured him, giving him and up and down with her eyes to be sure he understood the emphasis.

There was a near imperceptible twist of the businessman's mouth. "Ah. I see there's little need for pretense then." His smile straightened out again and he tilted his head just so as he met Bess' gaze directly as if in challenge. "Elizabeth Sullivan."

It sickened the woman to the pit of her stomach to hear her name fall from the lips of this snake of a man. But she stood her ground.

If Orin was waiting for her to have some sort of physical reaction to her name and was disappointed that she hadn't given him any, he hid it well and moved on quickly. "My, I’m charmed to finally make your acquaintance, Elizabeth. I have heard much about you from my wife. It’s such a joy to find some pleasant company in this abyss of a city, and I believe we can do good by each other." He extended a hand, evidently expecting Bess to take it.

"I sincerely doubt that," Bess countered, not even flickering a glance toward the appendage.

"You seem quite certain about that."

"Because I am."

Orin stood silently for a beat, blinking at her as if trying to understand. Or, perhaps, to decipher something. Finally, his thin lips curled into a wiseass smirk and his eyes glinted. "Ah-ha," he chuckled wryly. "Ah, I see. Smart girl, you. Money up front it is." He pulled his hand back, reached into a pocket of his blazer, and whipped out a richly bound checkbook. Pulling out a pen, he clicked it and flipped the checkbook open before scribbling with a bit of a flourish on the muted green paper of the check before ripping it from the binding. "Ah. There we are."

Holding the check between a middle and forefinger, he extended it towards the young woman. "One thousand dollars," he announced. "I'm not sure what the exchange rate of that is here, but it's all yours if you might just help me locate my wife."

Immediate indignation burned through Bess' veins, making her blood hiss a bit in her ears. She was unable to stop her lip twisting into a disgusted sneer and physically recoiled from the offered check. A wry laugh escaped her. "Connie was right: The nerve on you really is something else."

Orin raised a much too perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Pardon me?"

Bess narrowed her eyes at him. "You honestly believe you can pay me off to get to Connie?" she challenged. "After everything I've heard about you and what you did to her? Surely you must know that if you know enough about me to come to my market stall looking for Connie, I know even more about you, considering I've been living with her."

In the back of her mind, Bess knew she was potentially backing herself into a hazardous corner. Orin Spiegler wasn't some typical creep who tried to make time with her at the lounge bar; he was a perilous man with a volatile temperament who didn't hesitate to lock women outside in freezing cold weather in just their night things or throw them down flights of stairs to break their legs. But he was also a pathetic, spineless, slimy son of a bitch--lower than scum. And Bess had been raring to rip into his worthless hide since the moment Connie had recounted how he'd slapped her hard enough to give her a nosebleed on their wedding night.

As far as Bess was concerned, Orin didn't deserve to be feared; he deserved to be beaten into the ground and dragged through the mud. He deserved to have every bit of his rotten existence ripped asunder and utterly ruined. She was more than willing to do the dirtiest work.

That was probably why the way anger flashed in Orin's eyes and his face distorted into a fearsome glower didn't cause her to so much as flinch. However, her hands tightened into fists, and her muscles were already preparing to swing it if she had to. If he wanted to get physical, she would gladly oblige him.

"All right," Orin replied after a moment, taking a deep breath to calm himself though his expression didn't appear any more even-keel. "Fine." He drew the check back and ripped it in about a dozen different ways before dropping the pieces and dusting them from his hands.

Bess' gaze flickered to the soft green pieces, watching them float gently to the cobbles like confetti. That was her mistake.

Quick as lightning, Orin seized a nearby crate by the handle and swung it as hard as he could, catching the distracted young woman in the shoulder and side.

"ACK!" Bess stumbled sideways to trip over several boxes and fall to a heap on the ground. Dazed and trying to get her wind back, she didn't even have enough time to think to react before he was on her, grabbing her by the ponytail and wrenching her up again. All Bess could do was scream in pain and alarm.

"Shut up!" Orin growled viciously. He dragged her around and partially-threw, partially-shoved the young woman out of the tent into the front of the market stall, where she crashed heavily into the table holding the box of soup jars. Both she and it went toppling over, the box spilling its contents to the ground to shatter upon the cobblestones. He stalked after her. "You smart-mouthed little bitch!" he seethed. "You're going to tell me what I want to know, even if I have to beat it out of you!" His hands and fingers flexed as he tried to decide whether to continue the assault open-handed or closed fist. He cast a furtive glance around the courtyard to find that they appeared to be quite alone, so it probably wouldn't matter what he did.

He never got the chance to decide.

Orin's slow, ominous advance and indecision gave Bess enough time to gather herself and get some bearings back. When she did, she was mad--a snorting bull, seeing-red sort of mad. Oh, this jackass was going to learn a thing or two!

Lurching to her feet, the American woman charged headlong into the oncoming man with an enraged yell. She drove all of her considerable weight and size into him, knocking the breath from him, trapping him between strong arms and broad shoulders as she football-tackled him like a linebacker. She caught him at a perfect angle to lift him off his feet and drive him back. Her stepfather would have been fit to burst with pride over how beautifully she carried it out.

"Hhhhaaahhhhh-RAUGH!" Bess drove Orin down into the ground against the hard stones. And then she was on top of him, straddling and pinning him beneath her as she began to draw back her fists and start laying into his face and chest with all her might. Her bare knuckles throbbed from the onslaught and the cobbles painfully dug into and scuffed her knees, but Bess didn't let up for a second. She was much too angry; intent on giving this brute a well-earned taste of his own medicine.

"C'mon!" she screeched, her American accent slipping into a posh, English one as it was prone to do when she was impassioned with rage. "Fight back! Hit me! Hit me, Orin! I dare you! C'mon, I know you like to hit girls! I know you like to beat your wife! C'mon, Spiegler! Hit back! Or can't you handle a woman who actually fights back?! You gutless, ball-less wonder!"

That seemed to stir fury into Orin's soul (or whatever he had in place of one). With a savage roar, the man desperately shot a hand upward, blindly reaching, grabbing for anything he could snag hold of. By some miracle he found purchase on Bess' throat; without a second thought, he squeezed tight as he could, long fingers coiling around to the back of her neck. Then he shoved her to the side with all his might, throwing his weight up and over as they went to end up atop his opponent.

"You... crazy slut!" he puffed, chest and shoulders heaving. "Goddamn you're a hellcat! Gah! Stay still!" The man continued to grapple with the woman as she thrashed and fought beneath him. He tightened his grip on her throat, trying to choke her out, but it wasn't the easiest thing to do one-handed, and his other hand was currently having a fight of its own trying to pin both her hands to the ground. He could not risk those getting free again.

Bess only struggled harder. She glared daggers up at him, her airway too constricted to allow speech but not enough to black her out yet. So long as she was conscious, she would make this a war for the loathsome rat.

Her defiance unsettled Orin. Even pinned beneath him, one of his hands strangling her, she refused to back down, refused to surrender, refused to submit. She's not afraid of me, he realized, and the thought made his blood freeze. Dread settled deep in his gut like an anvil. This wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Desperate to put an end to this... unnatural feminine rebellion, Orin squeezed her neck all the tighter and bashed her head and shoulders into the stones beneath them. "You worthless cow--do as I say!"

Bess winced and let out a croaking groan as she was slammed into the ground. But if her resolute defiance wavered, it was only because of pain; that mutinous flame in her dark eyes blazed obstinately bright. "Fuck... you," she managed to crackle out.

That was when Orin was broadsided, sharply slammed into at the side with such force he could have sworn his ribcage dented in. "Ugh-oof!" The blow was more than enough to knock him away from Bess and send him rolling across the cobblestones.

"Get the hell away from her, you bloody bastard!" a snarling, rather feral voice boomed with fury.

Bess' lungs finally expanded to capacity with a full, unfettered breath; she coughed from the sudden, forceful change. "Wolf!" she rasped in great relief, eyes turned upward to the tall, imposing figure standing over her.

Like a gallant knight of yore, forming a protective wall between her and the savage beast that was her attacker, Ebenezar Scrooge had come to her rescue yet again. His slate-blue gaze, bright and blazing with lividness, bore down on the dark-haired man still trying to collect himself. But even as he kept his eyes on Orin, he turned his attention to his friend. "Are you all right, Bess?" he asked obvious concern for her beneath his otherwise caustic tone. He unfurled a fist and reached a hand down and back toward her.

Bess didn't think twice about sitting up and reaching to take and grip onto the offered appendage. She held his hand close with both of her own, pressing her cheek to the back of it. He probably meant for her to pull herself up with it, but all she wanted at the moment was to hold onto him and feel the security of his presence. "I'm okay," she croaked, absently nuzzling against his knuckles. It was mostly true; she wasn't unscathed but definitely sounded far worse than she actually felt. though she knew there would be some gnarly-looking bruising around her neck later. And perhaps a decent-sized knot on the back of her head too.

Her Wolf squeezed one of her hands into the comforting warmth of his own and Bess watched a bit of the tension seep out of his stance. Still, he kept his eyes on her assailant, ever alert. "What happened, Brightness?"

"It's Orin," Bess informed him breathlessly.

At first the name and significance of it didn't quite register for the billionaire: He'd met a few Orins in his time. But those Orins wouldn't mean anything to Bess. And he certainly wouldn't have found any of them pinning her to the ground next to her farmer's market stall and trying to strangle her.

Then it finally clicked. Ebenezar clutched Bess hand even tighter and stepped closer to and even more in front of her. His glower at the dark-haired man deepened. "Spiegler," he snarled. It wasn't a question.

Having gotten some of her breath back, Bess started to clamber to her feet. Her legs still shook and she clung to her handsome knight for support, leaning heavily into the back of his shoulder as she hugged his arm and continued holding his hand. "H-He's looking for Connie," she wheezed.

Her Wolf just growled, his ribcage rumbling under her touch.

The pair watched as Orin writhed around on the cobbles. When the suited man finally started to rise, Ebenezar pushed Bess to further safety behind him. He was not about to let this bastard lay another hand on the woman he loved!

"You have a nerve, Mr. Spiegler," Scrooge remarked. His usually mellifluous voice rumbled savagely with ominous thunder.

If Orin was surprised that billionaire banker and philanthropist Ebenezar Charles Scrooge was also aware of who he was, he didn't display it. Instead, he tried flashing a rather bloody ingratiating smile at the elder businessman. As if that would get him places. "Ah, you must be one of the Mr. Scrooges," he chuckled before coughing and groaning painfully at the effort. He took a moment to spit some blood from his lips. "Ugh... pardon me. D-Do I have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Ebenezar Scrooge or Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge?"

"The former, and also the Scrooge that's about to put your arse under the plane you arrived on."

Bess snorted as she scowled at Orin over Ebenezar's shoulder. "Why not put him under the dirt? Give me a shovel--he sorry carcass might still be worth decent compost."

There was no mistaking the anger that flashed in Orin's eyes at Bess' comment; the man truly did not handle derision from a woman well at all. However, he tried to hide his true emotions by making another wry chuckle. "I-I can see I've upset you, Mr. Scrooge. Or might I call you "Ebenezar"?"

"You call me anything or say another word at all, and you'll never speak again, you smarmy kissarse," Ebenezar replied. It was both a statement and a threat.

At that comment, a brief shadow of anxiousness came over Orin's swelling, bloodied face. Apparently, his usually potent and influential silver-tongue failing him was something he was used to even less than a woman standing her ground. "I'm afraid we've got off on the wrong foot, Mr. Scrooge," the man implored, a hint of pathetic desperation in his voice. "I can't say as I blame you for your anger, considering how you found the lovely lady and I, but let me assure you, Ms. Sullivan and I--we simply had a misunderstanding. Or rather, she misunderstood me--you know how women are. Hahaha-AHHCK!"

Orin fell to the ground again, partially crumpling in pain and partially being sent there with a resounding thwack! of a hard, wooden cane upon his skull. The dark-haired man clutched at the side of his head, cursing and sucking air sharply through his teeth.

Pippersnipe, wee little man though he was, was standing as tall and square as he could draw himself up to be. The effect was actually rather noteworthy, especially since he also held his cane like a master swordsman, one hand primly folded behind his back. His usually warm and inviting face was set like granite, with hard, ominous lines etched deep in his visage as he glowered at the younger man rolling upon the ground.

"I'm not sure I do know women, as it happens," the Irishman replied, a very dangerous lilt in his smooth brogue. "At least, not as you do. But what I do know, is we don't take very kindly to the disrespect of our ladies around here." With that statement, Pippersnipe drew his cane back and made an expert twist of the handle which unlocked and smoothly released a glinting rapier blade from the shaft. "If I was you, I'd watch my tongue, boy." He threateningly directed the blade in Orin's direction. "Or risk losing it."

Orin stared at Pippersnipe in silence for a moment. Whether he was still reeling from the whap the little man had delivered him, or he was struck dumb with terror at the sight of a real sword blade in his face, no one could tell. But, finally, after a minute or two, the American man seemed to pull himself together a bit. He managed a sneer and a chortle, though both looked and sounded quite nervous. "S-So," he attempted to chuckle condescendingly, "England still settles disagreements with swordplay, hey? How utterly barbaric."

"You're one to speak of barbarism from what I hear," Pippersnipe countered, voice even and soft but somehow bitingly cold and intimidating at the same moment.

"Then you've heard wrong," Orin hissed.

"Have I seen wrong, too?" Bess challenged, unable to keep the rising fury from her voice. For this man to have the nerve to act like he hadn't done all the things he'd done when almost every day she saw the scars left on Connie's body. When she had to help monitor Connie's medication intake to make sure she didn't slip back into the habits of addiction. When she'd had to hold her best friend through the painful tears and panic attacks brought on by chronic pain, withdrawal episodes, unexpected triggers, night terrors!

Orin turned an icy glare on her. "Whatever you think you've seen, you're mistaken," he bit back. "But you women always are."

"That's it!" Seeing red again, Bess flew around Ebenezar and threw herself on top of the dark-haired man again. She managed to get a couple more solid hits into him before she was pulled off and away by strong but gentle arms and hands.

"Bess, enough!" Ebenezar grunted as he hauled her a safe distance away.

Bess struggled in his grip to get back to Orin. "You bastard! You come anywhere near Connie, I'll rip your throat out! You try to touch her, I'll cave in your skull!"

Orin jeered at her. "You think I'm afraid of you, girl?" he chuckled with a bloody sneer.

Bess simply responded with an enraged vocalization that was half-roar, half-growl and violently lunged against Ebenezar's grip. He managed to hold her, but that didn't stop Bess from experiencing the ecstasy of watching Orin's infuriating smirk quickly be replaced with barely hidden terror as he flinched away. Excellent! Now he knew how Connie felt for all those years!

"Control your bitch, Scrooge!" Orin spat, scuttling backwards on the cobbles from her. He probably tried to sound authoritative and angry, but all he managed to sound like was a dog that was all bark and no bite.

"Call her that again, and I'll tear your throat out myself!" Ebenezar warned him, slate-blue eyes driving daggers at the American man.

"You don't seem to be making a very impressive stand, young man," Pippersnipe remarked, voice still calm and collected despite the brawling chaos around him. His rapier blade was lowered to his side now but still poised to be swiftly brought into play at any moment.

Orin let out an affronted, biting laugh as he struggled to finally rise to his feet. "You Brits!" he huffed. "Letting your females walk all over you! Having leprechauns brandish swords in the square! Threatening bodily harm on a poor man visiting your pathetic dump of an island to just try and find his beloved wife!"

Bess screamed in indignation. "Don't you dare call her "beloved"! Not after everything you put her through! Not after you almost killed her! You don't get to call her that!" She lunged again and managed to break away from Ebenezar's grip for a split second before he snatched her back up again.

Orin flinched away, terror he could no longer conceal leaping onto his face. It seemed he did have enough sense to fear the wrath of a fury.

"I don't know how much longer the poor man can hold her," Pippersnipe remarked in almost a mocking tone. "And I have no intentions of trying to hold her off you myself. I'd leave while I had the chance if I were you, son."

Orin's gaze flew to Pippersnipe, and from Pippersnipe to the enraged pair. His eyes flitted between them, taking in each furious visage as they both heaved with hardly restrained wrath. It was clear to see how much it irked him that his plans had gone so wildly different than he'd probably thought. But it was even more clear just how desperately he just wanted to get out of this unexpected scenario alive now.

The man's dark eyes lingered on Bess alone for a long moment. They held gazes, as if trying to peer into each other's souls to find their other's weakness. There was something processing in Orin's eyes behind the overwhelming terror, but it was impossible to decipher before he finally managed to replace his mask of reticent collectedness.

"Very well," he said, voice once again that overly rehearsed, oily, dignified tone he'd introduced himself with. "I can see that we've reached something of an impasse today. I can tell when I'm not wanted, and I'm not one for sticking around where I'm not. I'll go. But don't think this will be the last you all hear from me, because it won't be."

"If you have any self-preservation at all, it had better be," Ebenezar rumbled.

Orin met his scowl with a rather haughty look. "I'm afraid I'm not a man who will be threatened or dictated to, Mr. Scrooge," he stated. "Try to stick me back on a plane and get me out of the country all you want, it won't work. I'm not going anywhere until I have my wife firmly beside me again."

"Over my dead body!" Bess snapped venomously.

Orin's gaze flew back to her, and Bess swore she saw a bit of vengeful fire roar through it. "You know, she's not worth it," he said.

"Says the jackass who probably hired p.i.s to spy on her life here and flew hundreds of miles to try and track her down at a farmer's market to get her back instead of just cutting his losses," Bess retorted.

"You're just an unwanted little girl. You don't understand these things."

"Go jump, you worthless sad-sack!"

"I would take that as my leave," Pippersnipe cut in. The icy gleam in his eyes was now deadly. He drew up his blade and fingered the point as if testing the sharpness.

"Wouldn't want to overstay your welcome any more than you have," Ebenezar agreed.

Orin looked around at each of them again, gazing at them all with some level of disbelief. Again, his eyes lingered longest on Bess and the young woman could have sworn she saw something like a silent vow lock into place inside his slimy skull. Admittedly it unsettled her, made her gut feel uneasy, but she refused to hold an ounce of fear concerning this scumbag.

"Well," the dark-haired man finally said. "I'll be taking my leave then." He couldn't seem to help the slight smirk that caught up a corner of his mouth as he met Bess' gaze again. "Give Constance my regards."

Bess glowered savagely at him, letting out a snort like an angry fighting bull.

Orin chuckled, daring to shoot an infuriating wink at her. Then he finally turned and limped away.

When he'd finally disappeared from sight behind a line of hedges, the tension in the area eased off; the group let go a collective breath of relief. Relief for the time being anyway. Things had just gotten more than a bit complicated with the arrival of the infamous American businessman.

Without warning, Bess found herself manually spun around and facing a rather concerned-looking Ebenezar.

"Bess, are you all right?" the tall man hastily inquired. "How badly did he hurt you? Is anything painful?" As he interrogated her, his slate-blue eyes were racing over her, examining her, taking note of every bump, bruise, and scratch. When his gaze lowered to her neck, it stayed there locked onto the finger-shaped bruising that was already beginning to form around the soft column of her throat. Anger and agony both shone in his eyes, and he lifted a hand to run his own fingers ever-so tenderly along the discolored marks.

Bess felt both touched and guilty; touched that he was so worried for her wellbeing, guilty that she was, in fact, worrying him. Unable to help herself, she reached up and cupped one of his sculpted cheeks in her palm. "I'm all right," she assured him. She didn't sound like it; her voice sounded rather crackly and soft, probably from both the attempted strangulation and the barking she'd done at Orin.

Obviously, her Wolf wasn't all that convinced. "Don't lie to me, Elizabeth." Oh, her given name--he was worried. "Please. If you need to go to a hospital-"

She silenced him with another hand gently covering his lips. "Wolf. I don't. Trust me, I'm okay. I sound a lot more rough than I feel, honest. I am a little sore, probably gonna have to ice and wrap my knuckles, and I'm gonna have a bump on the back of my head, but I'm okay." Without realizing, she let her hand fall from his lips to rest flat over his heart as if trying to physically soothe his worries with her touch.

One of his massive hands automatically drifted to cover hers upon his chest, pressing it closer. "You're certain? It's just... when I saw you on the ground... the way he was holding you down..." he trailed off with a pained sigh, guilt taking hold of his handsome face and lodging itself in every crease.

"I'm so sorry, Brightness," he murmured, bringing his hand from her throat up to smooth some curly fringe back from her face before holding her jaw. "I should have been beside you. I should have hurried back from the truck sooner. If I had-"

Bess quickly cut him off, taking his face between both of her scuffed and bloody hands, her expression firm but not unkind: "Ebenezar, no. You're not doing that: You're not putting any blame on yourself--I won't allow it. The only person at fault for all this just skulked off with his tail between his legs. Orin and Orin only gets all the blame here, okay?"

Wolf didn't look quite convinced. "I still should have come back sooner," he insisted. "He never would have tried to harm you if I'd been here when he arrived."

The woman gave him a small smile. Her hands slipping from his face, she pulled him into a hug, easily shifting closer until she was flush against him when his arms instinctively embraced her in turn. "Hey," she cooed, voice as soft as though she was trying to soothe a hurt, frightened animal. "I'm okay, Wolfy. All right? I promise. I'll let you take me to a clinic to get checked over if it makes you feel better, but I swear I'm okay. I've had way worse than this, remember."

Ebenezar's eyes drifted from hers to her left shoulder now poking out through her shirt's askew neck hole. Without thinking, he let a hand drift up and gently ghost over the textured, slightly shiny, mottled scar of her long-since healed scald burn. Yes. Bess had been through much worse before. But that was why it bothered him so to see her hurt, however minimally, now; she should never have had to endure abuse from another ever again. Especially not when he was here for her now.

Still, her indomitable spirit about it all and her refusal to be sucked under by it was inspiring.

Sighing heavily, the man affectionately smoothed his hand over the young woman's head, trying to tame the untidy curls that had broken free from her loosened ponytail. "Built like a warrior goddess," he remarked with a tiny, wry smile, "and strong as one too."

Bess blushed, her gaze falling sheepishly from his. "I don't know about that," she muttered, gently biting her lip as she smiled, peeking back up at him from beneath her lashes.

A twinge of tenderness struck her as his hand passed over the goose egg forming on the back of her skull; Bess slightly winced, hissing through her teeth. A whisper of "ow" slipped by her lips before she could stop it.

Concern shadowed Ebenezar's face again and he gently prodded at the tender spot, examining the swelling. "Oh, my dear," he sighed sympathetically. Cupping her nape, he gently drew her head forward a bit, bowing his own into her hair to press a soft kiss close to the injury. "My brave Yankee girl."

Bess pressed her face into his chest, smiling against the softness of his shirt. Sore and aware of the looming threat to her soul-sister as she was, it was impossible to not feel safe and secure in her lovely Wolf's hold.

The sound of tinkling glass caused the pair to look towards the overturned table to see Pippersnipe gently nudging at bits of broken jars in puddles of wasted soups and stews with the end of his reunified cane. There was little emotion in the elderly Irishman's face, but his jaw was clenched, the muscles of it steadily working. It was a tick Bess and her friends had come to learn meant the little fellow was contemplating serious business. Fitting, considering who had just dropped into town.

"Pip?" Bess' voice was quiet, tinged with trepidation.

Her landlord and friend looked her way, held her gaze a moment, then looked to the gentleman embracing her. "I'd take her to be seen to, Mr. Scrooge," he stated, voice even and calm. "I'll finish the clean up here then take things back to the cottage."

Ebenezar nodded. "Of course."

"Oh, you don't have to clean up," Bess protested. "I'm fine. I don't need to see-"

"Elizabeth," the banker cut her off, voice firm but not unkind. He gave the Yank a stern look when she turned to him again. "You said you'd let me take you to be examined, so you're going to be examined. I'll hear no more about it. Understand?" He lifted a single, bushy brow, as if challenging her to say anything against him.

Usually Bess would have been annoyed at being told what to do, but with an order like that coming from her Wolf, all she discovered was that she felt warm inside and all over. Warm, protected, and cared for. She couldn't find it in herself to argue with the only other man in existence apart from her step-father to make her feel in such a way so wholly, so, with the tiniest smile, she nodded. Her heart cartwheeled in her chest when Ebenezar's severe, no-nonsense expression softened. Seriously, how could a man be so damn pretty without trying?

"Good girl," Pippersnipe said. Then he shooed them with his cane. "Off with you now. Don't worry here--I have it handled. I'll see you at the cottage later."

Snagging up his suit jacket from the hook on one of the stall's support posts, Wolf wrapped a protective arm around the young woman and gently led her off. "Come on, Brightness. Let's go have you seen to."

Bess much too easily notched herself into his side, slipping an arm around his waist. "You're the boss, Mr. Scrooge," she teased with wink.

The tall man rumbled a chuckle. "Well, it seems your cheek is still intact."

"Well, that's one less thing they'll have to cheek out."

"Ugh."

"Oh, come on, even you have to admit that was a clever one."

"I don't have to admit anything."

"Maybe while we're at the clinic we should see if there's anything they can do to loosen up that humor of yours a bit too."

"I beg your pardon? My sense of humor is excellent."

"And so are my puns."

"Debatable."

Pippersnipe watched after the playfully bickering pair before turning back to again assess the damage around the market stall. His gaze lingered on a dark puddle of Gal's acclaimed Melas Zomos, the ruined black broth slowly oozing over the stones, releasing its thick, unctuous, bloody scent into the air. The pit that has settled in his stomach upon first catching sight of Orin Spiegler only grew. Things weren't just about to become more complicated in London: They were also about to become much more dangerous.

~⚔️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️🌹⚜️⚔️~

🎶Dun-dun-DUUUUHHHHHNNNNNNN!!!🎶

[cherryvinyl-777]

I Like Me Better When I’m With You

Part 1

Ellie Williams x Reader

Summary: To get back at her ex girlfriend, your enemy Ellie Williams proposes an offer to you.

Warnings: none, enjoy! xo

Based on the book/move series To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

“Come on, you’re my only option!”

God, how did you end up here? Sitting outside your university with Ellie Williams, the girl you’ve hated since primary school. No, that wasn’t a joke. As if ending up at the same high school in your small town wasn’t bad enough, you had both got accepted into the same damn university.

You stare at the tall auburn haired girl incredulously. “You have to be kidding.”

She sighs frustratedly as if she wasn’t the one asking you to pretend to be her date.

“I’m dead serious, okay? I just…I need something to make my ex jealous, and you’re perfect,” Ellie states, tapping the wooden table with her pointer finger.

You rub your temple, looking around the courtyard if only to reconnect with reality for a second. Ellie notices your hesitation and tries for a grin.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it before,” She smirks, her foot now tapping on the pavement of the courtyard.

The thought practically makes you gag as you say, “As a matter of fact, I really haven’t. And anyways, what would I even get out of this little…scam?”

Ellie seems to ponder for a moment before she comes up with her answer, “Free rides to school. I’ve seen your driving, and uh…yeah,” She chuckles, glancing at you, “and…you’d even get invited to parties.”

You shoot her a glare, rolling your eyes a little too aggressively, “You’re all the same. Maybe I don’t want to get invited to parties, ever think of that?” You scoff.

Ellie gives you an apprehensive look and you just throw a fry at her face, making her laugh and proceed to eat the fry off the table.

“I’m gonna need an answer, L/N” Ellie urges, her hands interlocked together.

With a long sigh, you finally nod, causing Ellie to pump her fist.

“First rule, never do that again,” You state, pulling out a pencil and paper. Ellie stares at you, looking dumbfounded.

“You’re serious? You’re making rules?” She lets out an exaggerated sigh, holding her head in her hands.

You start writing the title of the list, “Fake Dating Rules”, causing Ellie to groan. You ignore her efforts to derail you and start listing.

“Okay…number one, no fist pumps,” You scribble down.

Ellie scoffs lightly at that, but stays silent after to watch you write.

“Rule two, absolutely no kissing,” You say matter of factly, barely even considering the fact that nobody would believe you were in a relationship with Ellie if you didn’t kiss her.

“What? Very funny, give me that,” Ellie snatches the paper from you, writing a rule of her own.

“Limit to…3 rules per person,” She scribbles down in the most god awful handwriting you’d ever seen in your life.

You can’t help but grin a little, “You just wasted one of yours.”

“Damn it,” Ellie whispers, causing you to roll your eyes.

After a half hour of bickering over what should be on the rule list and what could be left out, you had finally come to an agreement.

FAKE DATING RULES:

1. No fist pumps

2. No kissing

3. Limit to three rules per person

4. If fake relationship goes on longer than anticipated, must go on ski trip together

5. Ellie must watch ‘But I’m A Cheerleader’ with me

6. Y/N must watch ‘Love Lies Bleeding’ with me

You both take a moment to admire the completed list before Ellie interrupted.

“I think we should add one more rule,” She states, looking at you seriously.

You lean in a little, curious to see what this ‘final rule’ would be.

“You can’t fall in love with me, L/N.”

That earns her another french fry to the face before you look at her seriously as well, mocking her expression.

“That’s not gonna be a problem,” You counter, eating one of your french fries. Ellie just grins idiotically.

“We’ll see.”

an: had the best time writing this, felt so excited to get started on a fic like this after finishing s2 of xo kitty. based on the poll results, it looked like you guys wanted something like this, so i hope it’s what you had in mind! lots of kisses and ty for reading! <3

[kikyoupdates]

Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟-𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

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Rowan is honestly having the time of his life. 

From the moment he heard about Alistair’s engagement falling through, he had a feeling it would be a huge sore spot for him. Never in a million years would he have expected Alistair, of all people, to be broken up with. For as long as he can remember, everyone has always viewed him as perfection incarnate. He’s a man without flaws—or at least, he’s brainwashed others into believing that he is. 

And yet, someone rejected him. Someone was finally able to look past all the bullshit and see Alistair for what he truly is. 

Rowan knew right then and there that you were the woman of his dreams. 

“...are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

Alistair is angry. That much is clear as day, much to Rowan’s immense delight. Alistair gets annoyed with him all the time, and it’s no secret that they both hate each other’s guts, but it’s a rare treat to see him get this worked up. He can’t remember the last time he was privy to such a visceral display of anger. It’s ridiculously entertaining.

Despite how badly he wants to break down into a fit of laughter, Rowan tilts his head to the side and decides to feign ignorance. 

“I beg your pardon? I understand you’re upset, dear cousin, but I’m not so sure why you’re taking it out on me. [Name] is the one who ended the engagement, is she not? It hardly seems fair to make me the subject of your anger.” 

Alistair grits his teeth. “Spare me the theatrics. You know full well what you’ve done. Is there really no limit to how far you’ll sink, Rowan? Are you really so pathetic that you’ll pursue my former fiancée purely to spite me?” 

“What a hateful thing to say,” Rowan sighs, shaking his head. “I would never act on such petty emotions. Of course, I realize that this isn’t exactly conventional, and I had a feeling it would upset you, but I’d been interested in [Name] well before you got engaged to her. Now that the two of you are no longer involved, I simply decided to act on my feelings, that’s all.” 

“Bullshit. You never breathed a word about her. It seems rather coincidental that you claim to be so enamored with her all of a sudden.” 

“Well, yes, because I had been holding back on your account. It hardly felt proper to express desire towards another man’s fiancée, let alone my own cousin’s.” Rowan pauses, and soon enough, he can’t hide his smile anymore. “I wasn’t completely sure if I wanted to marry her, of course. This was all just a hunch I had. But now that I’ve spoken to her face to face, I’ve made up my mind. She’s such a charming young woman. A real breath of fresh air. In fact, I dare say I’m already head over heels for her.” 

Alistair’s eyes bulge out of his head, and this time, Rowan simply can’t resist the urge to laugh. 

“Charming…?” Alistair blinks in disbelief. “You say [Name] is charming? That snobby, mannerless woman? Do you even know what she said to me? She called me unattractive right to my face. Me. And don’t even get me started on all the rumors I’ve heard about her off-putting behavior. Are you so shameless that you would willingly tie your future to someone like that?” 

Rowan’s laughter just gets even louder, and watching Alistair’s face become increasingly red really is the cherry on top. 

“Haha… ha.” Rowan wipes the tears from his eyes, still chuckling every now and then. “I’ll admit I hadn’t heard the part about her calling you unattractive. Forgive me for laughing. It’s just too funny. But… she never said anything like that to me, so I suppose I have nothing to worry about. As I said, she agreed to let me court her for a while, and her father seems open to the idea of us getting married in the future.” 

“She was just trying to spare your feelings,” Alistair insists. His face feels uncomfortably hot, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. “She… she’ll reject you before long, just take my word for it. She’s volatile and unpredictable. I’m willing to bet she was just trying to appease her family since they must be worried about the engagement falling through. Besides, you’re not even engaged yet, so I’d hardly call this arrangement ironclad.” 

Rowan’s smile stretches further across his lips. The man he’s resented damn near his entire life is desperately struggling to defend himself and avoid losing face. He’s grasping at straws and offering whatever excuse he can come up with. He’s embarrassed beyond belief, and it couldn’t be any more obvious. 

For the first time… Rowan has something that Alistair doesn’t. 

“Show some humility, Alistair.” Rowan stands up from his seat to look down at his cousin with a cold, vengeful expression. “Your engagement is over. [Name] discarded you, and it’s time you came to terms with that. Besides, I’m not sure why you’re trying to debase her when you were originally going to marry her. If her reputation is as horrible as you suggest, then surely, you should have protested against this in the first place. Uncle and auntie would have understood. It’s rather crass for you to insult her after the fact, purely because she wasn’t interested in you. It shows a lack of character, and worst of all, that you think you’re above everyone else.”

Alistair blinks. He’s so dumbfounded he can’t even think of a rebuttal. It feels like he just got slapped across the face. 

Rowan smiles again. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll forgive your rudeness, on account of the fact that you’re still grieving your failed engagement. But from now on, you need to fix your attitude. [Name] and I are romantically involved, and I intend to make her my wife. I’ll urge you not to soil her name in my presence. I have a bit of a temper, you see.” 

Rowan walks off without waiting to hear Alistair’s response, not that he would have known what to say anyways. He watches as the dark-haired man promptly leaves the manor. It seems like he came here purely to gloat, which, considering how much of an asshole he is, doesn’t come as much of a surprise.

All the same, Alistair feels completely and utterly defeated. He can’t recall having ever experienced such a bitter loss. It’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. Honestly… 

He fucking hates it. 

“Goddamn you, Rowan,” Alistair mutters. He clenches his fist and takes a sharp, shaky breath, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm. 

You really chose Rowan over him? So, he doesn’t meet your standards, but somehow, that miserable scumbag does? 

Impossible. No. It just can’t be. He refuses to accept it. He refuses to accept any of it. 

He doesn't know how he’s going to pull it off, but right then and there, he makes up his mind. 

You will take him back.

While Alistair and Rowan were busy comparing dick sizes, you were trying to make strides towards improving your reputation. 

“Name tags, my lady?” 

Fiona stares at you, visibly perplexed. She usually looks pretty confused when she’s dealing with you, not that you can really blame her, but you think you’ve got a pretty good idea this time around. 

“Yes,” you nod happily. “So that I can remember everyone’s names. Oh, it’s not like it’ll be permanent or anything. Once I’ve committed everyone to memory the name tags can be removed, but I just think it would help me remember better. I’d like to address all of the people that work here by name from now on. I’m hoping to connect to them on a personal level, so that they won’t think of me purely as their boss. I want to turn this manor into a comfortable place for all.” 

Fiona still looks confused, bless her heart. In the game, the villainess treated everyone like property—especially if they were lower than her in social status. The heroine was the target of a good chunk of her malice, of course, but it seems like commoners got the worst of it, since she probably felt like she could do what she wanted with virtually no repercussions. Which is unfortunately the truth. If you were an absolute scumbag, you could, in theory, bully all these people with zero consequences. The staggering difference in social classes allows for all kinds of unwarranted abuse, which is exactly why you’re hoping to create a whole new status quo. 

“I’m ashamed of my past behavior,” you continue, frowning a bit. It feels weird to apologize for something you technically didn’t even do, but in the interest of maintaining appearances, you need to show remorse. “Like I said before, I’m trying to be a better person, and a big part of that is treating everyone with the respect they deserve. Especially the people that work so hard to support me every single day. I’ve noticed they walk on eggshells whenever I’m around, but hopefully they’ll soon realize I’m not that scary.” 

Fiona ponders for a few moments, then smiles as she nods her head. “I think it’s a lovely idea, my lady. They’ll appreciate the lengths you’re going to in order to help them feel more comfortable.” 

“Well, it’s really not such a big deal. Remembering their names is the least I can do.” 

“Considering how many people are under your employ, I’d say that’s not such an easy task. Besides, I hear from servants that work elsewhere that it’s rather common for the lords or ladies of the house not to remember their names. We’re only servants, after all. What we do isn’t all that remarkable.” 

She makes a pained face near the end, brushing off her remarks with a weak chuckle. You can’t help but frown, and your heart throbs at the sight of it. It’s horrible that she seems to think of herself and the other servants as expendable. Then again, if they’ve all been mistreated time and time again, it’s not surprising their self-esteem would be so low. 

You lean closer and place your hand on Fiona’s head, offering a gentle smile. “That’s not true. All of you work incredibly hard, and it’s your efforts that allow everything to go so smoothly. You keep this place immaculately clean, you repair anything that needs to be fixed, you help cook my meals… and the list goes on and on. You work harder than I can even imagine, and that’s no small feat. Please don’t demean yourself like that. Take pride in a job well done. You deserve it.” 

You pat her head, which you’ve learned is something she greatly enjoys—even if she won’t openly admit to it. 

Fiona just stares at you, and it doesn’t take long for tears to fill her big doe-shaped eyes. 

“Th-Thank you,” she sniffles, trying to wipe her tears before they fall, but to no avail. “I—I really appreciate it. You’re very kind to say that, my lady. So very kind…” 

You smile and give her some time to calm down. Fortunately, it doesn’t take long for her to regain her spirits, and she proceeds to lift her fist in the air, visibly determined. 

“Alright!” she huffs. “I will speak to one of the seamstresses and inform her that we’ll all be needing name tags. I promise we’ll get the job done as quickly as possible. I won’t let you down, Lady [Name]!”

She speeds off before you can say anything else, but it warms your heart to see her opening up to you more and more. Even if you weren’t responsible for the villainess’ wrongdoings, it’s nice to see how positively everyone is reacting to the ‘new’ version of you. 

Well, mostly everyone.

“[Name], darling, Flynn is here to see you,” your mother happily announces. 

You grimace. Goddammit. For the past few days, you kept using your aforementioned sickness as an excuse to ward off visitors, but there’s only so long you can milk that excuse for, and it seems like he won’t be deterred any longer. He is supposed to be your best friend, after all. 

“Have fun,” your mother beams, and she walks off with a spring in her step, heels echoing down the halls. Your parents are both rather fond of you, but she’s been especially chipper ever since she heard Rowan proposed. By now it seems like your parents have completely forgotten the Alistair incident, or they simply don’t care anymore. 

Either way, you’ve dealt with almost all of the game’s love interests so far. Alistair is obviously a thing of the past, and since you’re well on the way towards improving your reputation, Carmine likely won’t have any reason to execute you later on. 

The only person you just can’t seem to shake is this annoying bastard. 

“How are you feeling?” Flynn asks, concern lacing his features. “You look a lot better now, but you’ve never fallen so ill before. I was worried.” 

Sorry, dude. The tales of my sickness were greatly exaggerated. I was basically just looking for excuses so I could avoid you. 

“I feel fine now,” you say, quickly smiling. “Anyways, I’ve got a lot of… math to do later, so I’m not sure how long you can stay.” 

“Math? Ah, yes. Your father was saying you really started applying yourself. He said you were concealing a prodigal aptitude for academics all this time. You sure could have fooled me,” he muses.

You shrug. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.” 

Flynn purses his lips, and it looks like he’s resisting the urge to say anything. Even though he’s your so-called ‘best friend’, even he must realize that the villainess wasn’t exactly competent when it came to well, anything. 

But he’s well-mannered enough to keep those thoughts to himself. 

“Well, I’m just relieved you’re okay,” he smiles. “Oh. I also wanted to ask about your engagement. I heard that you’re apparently not seeing Alistair anymore. When did that happen?” 

“A little while ago.”

“Your parents told me that you’re the one who broke it off. Is that true?” 

“It is. I don’t know,” you sigh, “I guess I just wasn’t that interested in him. It happens. I’m fortunate enough that my parents haven’t pushed for us to get back together. They’ve given me the freedom to be more picky from now on.” 

Flynn knits his brows together. “You weren’t that interested in him…? What about all those times you kept gushing to me about how excited you were for the engagement? You seemed to feel very differently up until not long ago.” 

Ugh. This guy is constantly on your ass, pointing out inconsistencies left and right. Like, even your parents didn’t make this big of a fuss after the engagement fell through. Your so-called ‘punishment’ was doing some math problems. Let it go already, man. 

“Feelings change,” you shrug. “I was excited at first, but I gradually found my interest waning. I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with him, and I think it was for the best, because he didn’t seem to like me very much either. I’m sure we’ll both find a better match eventually.”

Flynn arches a brow. “You mean to say that you no longer feel anything towards him at all?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“Not even a little bit?” 

“Uh, nope. Otherwise I wouldn’t have broken up with him in the first place.” 

“Huh.” 

Flynn seems to be having a hard time wrapping his head around all this. Truthfully, you don’t know the finer details of his friendship with the villainess. It’s entirely possible that she bragged about Alistair more times than you can count, which is why your dismissiveness probably seems pretty suspect right now. A good friend knows when something is off, as evidenced by the fact that Flynn’s been on your case since the moment you met. 

But… there’s no way he’ll actually figure it out, right? After all, who could ever imagine that their best friend’s been replaced by some total stranger from a completely different world? It’s way too far-fetched. Practically unthinkable.

Yeah. That’s not something I should worry about. 

Never in a million years would Flynn be able to figure out what’s happening, and nor will anyone else, for that matter. Your foremost concern right now is figuring out a way to slowly push him out of your life, because the sooner you distance yourself from this guy, the better you’ll feel. 

“If you weren’t happy with him, then like you said, it’s probably better this way,” Flynn acknowledges. “I would hate to see you stuck with someone who doesn’t bring you joy. You deserve much better than that. You deserve only the best.” 

Well. You’d like to think that you deserve the best, but the previous owner of this body most certainly did not. 

It’s actually kind of disturbing that Flynn sides with the villainess so much, in spite of all the fucked up shit she’s done. It says a lot about his morality.

Yet another reason why you don’t want him around.

“I think I should get a head start on my homework,” you blurt, already walking away. It’s incredibly rude to brush him off like this after he dropped by for a visit, but you figure that if you treat him a bit coldly, he might eventually take the hint and leave you alone.

“Alright,” Flynn nods. “I’ll spend some time chatting with your parents. I don’t have any other plans for today, so take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”

…people around here really don’t know how to take no for an answer, huh? 

You sigh quietly and shake your head. Whatever. It’s going to take some time to completely get rid of him, but you’re confident you can pull it off. Even if he won’t ever hurt you, he’s simply too closely connected with the main plot. You don’t need that kind of stress in your life. 

Flynn watches you walk down the hallway, and he also watches as you grin widely and point finger-guns at one of the servants.

“Duncan!” you exclaim. “Working hard as per usual, I see. You’re doing a great job. Keep it up!” 

The servant awkwardly does finger-guns back before scurrying on his way, and needless to say, Flynn finds the whole scene rather confusing. 

Since when do you bother to remember the servants’ names? As far as he can remember, you’ve always just snapped your fingers to demand service, or pointed to someone and said, “Hey, you.” 

It’s all so strange. He can’t help but feel that you’ve changed somehow, and rather abruptly, at that. If there’s something special going on in your life, he thinks he deserves to know about it. He’s your best friend, isn’t he? The two of you have always told each other everything. And yet, he didn’t even find out about your broken engagement until well after the fact. 

Whatever’s happening to you…

He’s not sure he likes it. 

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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🗡️ main masterlist! ♡ character appearances

[arivsxq]

Meddle about chapter 3

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, angsty shit

Warnings: smut, hookup, fwb, mdni, maybe slow updates

Word count: 4,6k+

Songs: Meddle about-Chase Atlantic

Heartbeat-Childish Gambino

A/N: Wrote a longer chapter this time as a little apology for the few people who waited so long. Sorry again but I try to upload more regularly this year:)

The next morning, I was running late. Again. I'd hit snooze one too many times, and now I was shoving books into my bag with a granola bar hanging from my mouth, cursing my existence. I barely had time to throw on a hoodie and sneakers before rushing out the door. It was the second day in a row where I looked like a homeless person. If my parents saw me like this they would definitely scream their guts out.

By the time I got to campus, I was already exhausted. The philosophy lecture hall was halfway across campus, and I knew if I stopped for coffee, I'd be even later. So, against my better judgment, I powered through, speed-walking like my life depended on it.

And that's when it happened.

One second, I was focused on not tripping over my own feet. The next, I slammed right into someone, sending both of us stumbling back.

"Oh, shit—"

I barely had time to process before strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me before I could fall flat on my ass.

And of course. Of course.

It was Jungkook.

Because why wouldn't it be?

He looked down at me, eyebrows raised in amusement. "You good?"

I blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off by how close we were. His hoodie was slightly oversized, sleeves covering part of his hands, and his dark hair was tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed. The morning light caught on the two piercings on the corner of his lips, and—

Nope. Absolutely not.

I stepped back quickly, clearing my throat. "Yeah. Fine. Totally great."

He gave me a look, like he didn't quite believe me, but he didn't push it. Instead, he smirked. "Running late?"

I huffed, adjusting my bag. "What gave it away?"

"The fact that you almost knocked me and yourself unconscious."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. You barely moved."

"Strong reflexes." He grinned. "Perks of being me."

I hated that I almost laughed.

Instead, I shook my head, moving past him. "I gotta go."

"Wait."

I paused, reluctantly turning back. "What?"

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning my face like he was debating something. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable yesterday," he said finally.

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?" I said again.

"The coffee thing." He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I wasn't trying to push anything. Just... wanted to talk."

Guilt twisted in my stomach. I let out a slow breath, suddenly feeling very aware of how awkward I'd made everything.

"I know," I admitted. "I just had..." I hesitated. "two cups of coffee"

Jungkook studied me for a second before nodding. "Okay."

That was it. Just okay. No guilt-tripping, no passive-aggressive remarks. Just acceptance. It threw me off more than anything else. Before I could say something else—what, I didn't even know—Jungkook took a step back. "I'll see you in class," he said, and then he walked away, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

"wait-"

He turns around with a questioning look on his face.

"What about later? I-I mean... after the lectures. Only if you have time, we don't need to-"

"yeah, sure" he smiles and disappears after.

Did I just stutter???

***

By the time I slipped into my seat next to Carla, the professor had already started scribbling something on the board. I tried to act casual like I hadn't just made an absolute fool of myself five minutes ago, but Carla's sharp gaze immediately landed on me.

"You're late," she whispered, leaning in.

"Tell me something I don't know," I muttered, pulling out my iPad.

Carla ignored my bad mood, her eyes narrowing. "Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?"

I hesitated for half a second too long, and that was all she needed.

"Oh my god," she gasped, her voice a little too loud. "Is this about Jungkook?"

My entire body stiffened. "No," I lied instantly.

Carla's smirk grew. "So if I turn around right now, he's not gonna be looking at you?"

I refused to take the bait. "I don't care what he's doing."

Carla, being the absolute menace she was, twisted in her seat anyway. I heard her inhale sharply. "Oh. My. God."

I sighed. "Carla—"

"He's staring at you."

I groaned, dropping my forehead onto the desk. "I hate you."

Carla giggled. "Oh, babe, you love me."

I peeked up at her, only to find her grinning like she'd just won the lottery. I knew that look. It meant trouble.

"What did you do?" I whispered harshly.

"Nothing," she said, way too innocently. "I just think it's interesting that you rejected coffee yesterday but suddenly have plans after class today."

I glared at her. "How do you even know that?"

Carla rolled her eyes. "Please. I saw your face when you walked in. You look like someone who just did something completely out of character."

She wasn't wrong.

"Annnnddd I overheard Jungkook telling Namjoon"

I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that Carla would never let this go. "Fine. I might have... invited him to hang out."

Carla's jaw dropped. "You invited him? As in, willingly?"

"Would you keep your voice down?" I hissed, glancing around.

Carla's expression turned gleeful. "This is huge."

"It's really not."

"It is." She paused, then gasped. "Oh my god, do you like him?"

I choked. "Absolutely not."

Carla narrowed her eyes. "Liar."

"I literally just met him."

Carla smirked. "And yet, here we are."

I wanted to argue, but the professor shot us a pointed look, forcing Carla to finally shut up. I exhaled in relief and focused on the lecture, but my brain refused to cooperate. I was too aware of the fact that Jungkook was sitting just a few rows away.

And worse? I could feel him looking at me.

***

After class, I practically sprinted out of the lecture hall before Carla could interrogate me further. I had a break before my next class, and Jungkook was nowhere in sight. Maybe he'd forgotten about my invitation. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe—

"Hey."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Spinning around, I found Jungkook standing there, looking amused.

"Jesus," I muttered, clutching my chest. "You need to stop sneaking up on me."

He raised an eyebrow. "I literally just walked up."

I huffed. "Whatever."

Jungkook chuckled, then nodded toward the campus café. "Still down?"

I hesitated. "For what?"

His lips twitched. "To hang out? You did invite me, remember?"

I internally cringed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

Jungkook gave me an amused glance but didn't push it. We made our way to the café in comfortable silence, and I tried not to overthink the fact that I was willingly spending time with him.

Inside, we grabbed drinks, him, an iced Americano; me, a caramel latte, and found a spot near the window. I wrapped my hands around my cup, suddenly unsure what to say.

Jungkook beat me to it. "So, what's your deal?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He smirked. "You seem... hard to read."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "You act like you don't care, but I don't think that's true."

I stared at him. "That's a bold assumption."

Jungkook sipped his coffee, unfazed. "Am I wrong?"

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Annoyingly, he wasn't. I did care. I just hated admitting it.

Instead, I deflected. "And what about you? What's your deal?"

Jungkook tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

I gestured vaguely. "You just randomly show up at my friends' dinner, stare at me in class, and now you're analyzing my personality like it's a project."

He smirked. "So you did notice me staring."

I groaned "I walked into that one."

Jungkook laughed, a soft, genuine sound that caught me off guard. When I looked up, he was watching me, his expression more serious than before.

"For real, though," he said, voice quieter. "I think you're interesting."

I swallowed. "You don't even know me."

"Not yet," he said simply.

I didn't have a response to that.

Jungkook didn't press me for one. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee like he had all the time in the world. I stared out the window, watching students hurry past, my thoughts a tangled mess.

"I think we would make great friends" he interrupts the silence.

I blinked at him, unsure if I had misheard. "Friends?"

Jungkook nodded, completely unfazed. "Yeah. You know, the normal kind. People who hang out, talk, maybe send each other stupid memes at 2 AM. Friends."

I squinted at him. "Do you usually pursue friendships with people who actively avoid you?"

He chuckled. "You haven't exactly been avoiding me."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he had a point. I could have ignored him and shut down every attempt he made to talk to me, but instead, here I was, sitting across from him, sharing coffee.

I sighed, stirring my drink absentmindedly. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"I prefer determined," he said, smirking.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Fine. Friends."

Jungkook raised his cup like he was toasting. "Friends."

We fell into an easy conversation after that. Turns out, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. He told me about his photography projects, his love for late-night drives, and his weirdly specific obsession with collecting vintage film cameras. In return, I told him about my art major, my stress over exams, and my terrible habit of procrastinating until the last possible second.

"So basically," Jungkook said, resting his chin on his palm, "we're both disasters in different ways."

I snorted. "Yeah, pretty much."

The time passed quicker than I expected. Before I knew it, my break was almost over, and I had to get to my next class. I glanced at the time and groaned. "I gotta go."

Jungkook stretched, standing up. "I'll walk with you."

I hesitated for a second but didn't protest. We stepped out of the café, the campus buzzing with students rushing to their next classes. The air was crisp, the sun casting long shadows across the pavement.

As we walked, Jungkook glanced at me. "So, do I get a contact name in your phone now? Or am I still 'Unknown Number'?"

I huffed a laugh, pulling out my phone. "Fine. But if you send me dumb memes at 2 AM, I'm blocking you."

Jungkook grinned, typing his number into my phone. "Noted."

I saved his contact, glancing at him. "Happy now?"

He grinned wider. "Very."

As we reached the building where my class was, I turned to him. "Guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah," he said, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Later."

I walked into the lecture hall, feeling oddly lighter than I had in days. Maybe having Jungkook around wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

***

Who would've thought that four months later, Jungkook would be one of my closest friends? But here we were, sitting in his living room. My legs were stretched out over his, tangled in the most casual way, like we'd been doing this forever. His feet rested on the other end of the L-shaped couch, his laptop perched on his thighs as he absentmindedly scrolled through something.

The room was dimly lit, the only real light coming from the TV, playing some random movie neither of us were paying attention to. A forgotten bag of chips sat between us, and my half-empty iced coffee was precariously balanced on the armrest.

Jungkook suddenly let out a dramatic sigh, closing his laptop with a soft thud. "I'm so over this assignment."

Not even looking up from my phone I respond "You say that about every assignment."

"Because they all suck," he shot back, tossing his laptop onto the floor beside him. "Seriously, who thought writing an essay about 'the emotional depth of visual storytelling' was a good idea?"

"Uh, your professor?"

He gave me a flat look. "I refuse to acknowledge that man's existence."

I laughed, nudging his leg with my foot. "You just need a break. Wanna order food?"

Jungkook perked up instantly. "Now you're speaking my language."

"Pizza?"

"Obviously."

I reached for my phone to make a call but then I see a message from my father.

Father:"Were invited to dinner by the Kim's."

I roll my eyes. My thoughts get interrupted by Jungkook's voice calling me.

"What's with the eye-role?" he tries to tease.

"Just my father. We're invited for dinner by the Kim's" if my annoyed face doesn't tell what I think about the plans my voice definitely does.

"Which Kim's exactly?" Jungkook hesitates.

"Your smart ass friend Namjoon?"

"Oh these Kim's"

Jungkook smirked, leaning back into the couch. "So, what's the problem? Namjoon's cool."

I groaned, throwing my phone onto the coffee table. "Yeah, but his parents are the problem. And also mine but that's not the point. They're like... I don't know, fancy? Pretentious? The kind of people who judge you based on how well you hold a wine glass."

Jungkook chuckled. "So like your family"

"True but shut up"

He shrugged. "I mean, I could come as your emotional support."

I snorted. "Oh, sure. I'd love to see my father's face when I show up with you. That'd go over well."

"Hey, I can be classy." He sat up straighter, clearing his throat before saying in an exaggerated deep voice, "Good evening, Mr. Kim. A pleasure to see you again. The duck confit is simply exquisite."

I burst out laughing. "Oh my God, stop."

Jungkook grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "I'd fit right in."

"Yeah, until you start talking about video games or making fun of Namjoon's philosophy books."

"Fine, fine. But really, is it that bad?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "It's just... my dad has this weird thing about the Kim's. Mr. Kim and dad have a long history of business dealings and stuff. Like, they're this perfect family in his eyes, and I always feel like I have to act a certain way around them. You know, be 'proper' and 'respectable' or whatever. It's exhausting."

Jungkook nodded, his playful expression softening a little. "I get that. But hey, if it makes you feel any better, Namjoon's probably suffering through it too."

"He is" I sighed. "I know him since I was 6. This guy doesn't have a great poker face"

"You got this," Jungkook said, bumping his knee against mine. "And if it gets unbearable, just imagine them all in clown wigs. Helps me get through awkward situations."

"That explains a lot"

"Hey"

The rest of the evening passed in comfortable laziness. We ordered pizza, half-watched a movie, and talked about everything and nothing until it was late and I had to drag myself off the couch.

***

The moment I stepped into my walk-in closet at my parent's house, I knew I couldn't just throw on any outfit. My parents took these dinners seriously, and showing up in anything less than polished perfection was practically a crime in their eyes. So, instead of my usual laid-back style, I went for a sleek black dress, nothing too extravagant, but just enough to say, yes, I belong in this ridiculous world of power plays and social niceties. A pair of delicate diamond earrings and designer heels completed the look.

By the time I made it downstairs, my mother gave me an approving glance, my father barely looked up from his watch, and we were ushered into the car.

When we arrived at the Kim estate, a sprawling mansion that made even our home seem modest, I sighed inwardly. The moment we stepped through the grand entrance, Namjoon and his parents greeted us with the usual warmth laced with underlying expectations. My mother was already deep in conversation with Mrs. Kim about some charity gala, while my father and Mr. Kim exchanged firm handshakes and business talk.

And then, just as I was about to zone out, my phone buzzed in my clutch.

Jungkook: "How's the royal banquet?"

I bit back a smile and texted back.

Me: "Currently contemplating my existence between a five-course meal and a conversation about hedge funds."

Jungkook: "Sounds thrilling. You need a rescue?"

Me: "Always"

Jungkook: "I'll send a helicopter"

I rolled my eyes but felt strangely lighter. If nothing else, at least I had Jungkook's sarcasm to get me through the night. The dining room was an opulent display of wealth, all crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed dinnerware, and a floral centerpiece so large it practically needed its own zip code. I took my designated seat between my mother and Namjoon, the latter offering a polite smile as I settled in. Across from me, his younger sister, Jihye, was already scrolling through her phone beneath the table, clearly just as thrilled to be here as I was.

"So," Mr. Kim started, his deep voice carrying over the soft clinking of silverware, "I hear the expansion in Singapore is progressing well."

My father nodded, always the composed businessman. "Yes, though we had to make some last-minute adjustments to accommodate new regulations. Nothing we can't handle."

I tuned out almost instantly. Business talk at these dinners was as predictable as the perfectly plated gourmet meals in front of us. The first course, a delicate amuse-bouche that looked more like art than food, was placed before me, and I forced myself to take a bite, despite my complete lack of appetite.

I stole a glance at Namjoon, who seemed equally unenthusiastic. Despite his reputation for being a genius, he was, at the core, still just a guy who had been shoved into this world whether he liked it or not.

"How's university treating you?" he asked, voice low enough that it didn't interrupt the ongoing corporate negotiations happening to our left.

"Oh, you know," I sighed, "thriving under capitalism, questioning my existence, the usual."

Namjoon chuckled. "Sounds about right. Jungkook keeping you entertained?"

I nearly choked on my water. I cleared my throat, trying to play it cool. "Why would you assume that?"

Namjoon arched a knowing brow. "Because he's Jungkook. And you're... you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Care to elaborate?"

Before he could, Mrs. Kim turned her attention toward me, her carefully poised smile in place. "Darling, your mother was telling me about your latest art project. How wonderful that you still find time for such creative pursuits."

My lips twitched. "Yes, still clinging to the last remnants of my soul."

My mother shot me a warning look, but Mrs. Kim merely laughed, as if I had said something utterly charming rather than laced with sarcasm.

"Well, creativity is important," she said smoothly, sipping her wine. "Though, of course, I'm sure you're also considering more... practical applications for the future."

There it was. The inevitable nudge toward "real-world" aspirations, the ones that involved boardrooms, mergers, and an existence carefully molded into the expectations of high society.

I didn't get the chance to respond before my phone buzzed in my lap again.

"Uh yeah but I actually want to presume art"

My mother lets out a fake laugh and says "Young people and their imagination. Of course, she has other plans for the future. After all, she is the heir of a million dollar company"

Bitch.

She shoots me one last look before I look at my phone.

Jungkook: "Tell me you've at least been served something edible."

Me: "If by edible, you mean a piece of asparagus decorated like a museum exhibit, then yes."

Jungkook: "Tragic. Need me to smuggle in a burger?"

Me: "Tempting. You'd get past security?"

Jungkook: "For you? I'd find a way."

A warmth spread through my chest, but before I could type a response, my mother's voice cut through my thoughts. "Darling, put your phone away. It's rude during dinner."

I bit back a sigh, slipping my phone back into my clutch and returning to my untouched plate. Across from me, Jihye smirked knowingly, clearly having caught on.

The second course arrived,some kind of seafood dish with a name too long to remember, and the conversation steered toward future prospects. Mr. Kim, ever the strategist, turned to Namjoon with a measured look.

"Have you given more thought to your role in the company after graduation?"

Namjoon's smile was tight. "Of course. Still weighing my options."

"Options?" Mr. Kim repeated, clearly unimpressed. "Your path has always been clear."

I didn't miss the way Namjoon's grip tightened around his fork. I felt a sudden, sharp pang of sympathy. The weight of expectation in a family like this wasn't just heavy, it was suffocating.

"I think Namjoon should have the space to explore his interests," I interjected, drawing attention back to me. "After all, wouldn't you rather have a CEO who actually enjoys his work?"

There was a beat of silence before Mrs. Kim gave a tight-lipped smile. "Of course, dear. But responsibility is a privilege, not a choice."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Right. How could I forget?"

"Y/N!" My father warns me but I could care less.

As the courses continued, so did the thinly veiled expectations, the strategic questions, the careful way my mother kept nudging me to say the right things, to act the part.

By the time dessert arrived, I was more than ready to escape.

Another buzz.

Jungkook: "Still alive?"

Me: "Barely. Might fake an emergency. Thoughts?"

Jungkook: "Dramatic fainting. Classic. I'll give you a 9/10 if you commit to it."

I stifled a laugh, but Namjoon caught it, shaking his head in amusement. "Tell Jungkook he's a bad influence."

"Oh, he already knows."

As coffee was served, my mother turned to me with a pointed look. "We'll be attending the charity gala next weekend. You'll be expected to join...and your manners too."

I sighed internally but nodded. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it."

She smiled, satisfied, and returned to her conversation.

Jungkook: "What are your plans for next weekend?"

Me: "Apparently, I'm being paraded at a gala."

Jungkook: "Sounds fancy."

Me: "Sounds exhausting."

Jungkook: "I could always crash it."

I hesitated for a split second.

Me: "You wouldn't."

Jungkook: "Oh, baby. Don't challenge me."

I stared at the message, something dangerously close to excitement bubbling under my ribs.

Jungkook at a high-society gala? Now that would be a sight to see. As the evening dragged on, my patience wore thin. Just as I thought I might actually lose my mind listening to another story about market trends, Mr. Kim turned to me.

"Have you given any thought to internships? I know your father has some excellent connections. It would be a wonderful opportunity."

I hesitated. "I have some ideas, but nothing concrete yet."

My father, who had been mostly silent on my personal matters, decided now was the time to weigh in. "She needs to start focusing on more stable prospects. The art thing is fine as a hobby, but—"

There it was. The inevitable dismissal of my interests, as if they were just a passing phase. I clenched my jaw, forcing a polite nod instead of the biting retort I wanted to unleash.

Before I could say anything, Namjoon smoothly interjected, "Actually, Jungkook was telling me about an artist he's been following lately. Some really impressive work."

I shot him a look of gratitude. Namjoon, ever the diplomat, had just steered the conversation away from my impending existential crisis.

Mr. Kim hummed in approval. "Ah, Jungkook. Always an interesting one."

My mother's lips pursed ever so slightly. She wasn't the biggest fan of Jungkook, something about him being too carefree, too unpredictable. The irony, considering how much they admired Namjoon, who happened to be one of Jungkook's closest friends.

As the night wore on, I found myself feeling less suffocated, despite the setting. Maybe it was Namjoon's subtle interventions, or maybe it was knowing that, on the other side of my phone screen, Jungkook was keeping me grounded in my own way.

By the time we finally left the Kim estate, I let out a breath of relief. The car ride home was silent, my parents satisfied with another successful evening of networking but also angry at my behavior.

As soon as I was back in my room, I collapsed onto my bed and checked my phone again.

Jungkook: "You made it out?"

Me: "Against all odds."

Jungkook: "Proud of you. Wanna celebrate your survival with a coffe at my place"

I hesitated for a moment, then smiled.

Me: "Fine. But only if you make breakfast too"

Jungkook: "Why? We can buy something on the campus"

Me:"okay see you in class"

Jungkook:"Ugh fine, I'll make breakfast. Anything for the Chanel princess"

I set my phone down, feeling a little lighter. Maybe these dinners would never be easy, but at least I had people who made them bearable.

***

The next morning, I woke up to the soft ping of my phone, signaling a message from Jungkook.

Jungkook: "I'm up. Suffering. Hope you're happy."

I grinned, stretching lazily before replying.

Me: "Very. Now get to work, chef."

Jungkook: "Bossy. I like it."

Shaking my head, I rolled out of bed and grabbed a change of clothes before heading to his apartment. I had barely knocked when the door swung open, revealing Jungkook in an oversized hoodie, his hair still messily tousled from sleep.

"Morning, Chanel Princess," he greeted, stepping aside to let me in.

"Morning, Michelin-star chef," I smirked, peering over his shoulder. "Where's my gourmet breakfast?"

Jungkook scoffed, leading me into the kitchen where a pan of slightly burnt pancakes sat on the stove. "Listen, I never promised quality."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky I'm too hungry to care."

As I grabbed a plate, he leaned against the counter, watching me with an easy smile. "So, how bad was the aftermath?"

I sighed, stabbing at my pancake. "Silent treatment from my parents. My mother is convinced I'll grow out of my 'art phase' and my dad thinks I need a reality check."

Jungkook frowned. "And by reality check, they mean...?"

"Corporate servitude." I rolled my eyes. "Yay, nepotism."

He snorted. "Yeah, you don't really scream 'corporate drone' to me."

I pointed my fork at him. "Exactly! But try telling them that."

There was a beat of silence before Jungkook said, "You know, you don't actually have to do what they want."

I looked up, meeting his gaze. It was such a simple statement, yet it held so much weight.

"Yeah, well, try convincing them of that."

Jungkook shook his head. "No, I mean it. You're the one who has to live with your choices. Not them."

I swallowed, unsure how to respond. Because as much as I wanted to believe that, the pressure was real. The expectations, the responsibilities, the constant reminder that I had a role to play in this carefully curated world my parents had built.

Jungkook must've sensed my hesitation because he reached across the counter, lightly tapping my wrist. "Hey. You have options. You just have to be brave enough to take them."

I stared at him, something warm blooming in my chest. He always made things sound so simple, so possible.

Before I could overthink it, I sighed dramatically. "It's not that easy."

Jungkook grinned. "Oh come on. If your parents disown you, you can sleep on my couch"

I scoffed. "I think I've suffered enough for your amusement."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, you keep things interesting."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't fight the smile tugging at my lips. For now, the weight of last night felt a little lighter, and the future was a little less suffocating. At least I had people like Jungkook in my corner.

[yeonzzzn]

ain't no way that this man is bitchless. he should at least banging someone off screen 😭😭 yk what i meaaann??? 😩✋🏻

you’re right he’s banging me. we’ve just been keeping it a secret 😔✋🏼