#and then the other half i think i really need to get over it

[p0orbaby]

Getting You Alone Isn’t Easy

summary: two reckless lovers, one ill-timed call, and zero chance of stopping

warnings: suggestive but not explicit

a/n: the length of time it took me to decide on a title for this was painful

word count: 1.5k

-

You’re draped over Alexia, straddling her in the faint, golden light that sneaks through the blinds. Her hands grip your hips in that familiar way, like you’re the last thing keeping her from floating off. You’re gasping, breathless, clinging to the taut warmth of her body beneath you as though the world is ending and this is your only way to stay grounded. Her hands, usually gentle, are digging in hard enough to leave bruises, but she’s sweet like that, knows exactly when you need to feel it. You can almost picture the bruises they’ll leave behind, thumbprints like violet ink smudged across your skin, each one a reminder that she was here, and that she wanted you badly enough to leave a mark.

It’s been a day, one of those long ones that started with a sun-blinded hangover, progressed into a searing headache, and then—once you forced yourself to actually acknowledge the calls you missed last night—moved rapidly toward near apocalyptic levels of panic.

Somewhere between the drink you had to “take the edge off” and the fourth one you drank without even thinking about it, Alexia texted you, and it felt like a solution, or maybe a distraction, though those two things are the same to you most of the time.

So here you are, in the thick of it, your bodies wrapped around each other, your mind slipping into that strange, dreamlike state where it feels like your skin isn’t your own. Everything’s heightened—her touch, her scent, the whisper of her breath on your neck. You’re right at the edge, teetering, and then—

Your phone rings.

Of course it fucking does.

At first, you ignore it. The vibrating hum is muffled against the sheets, barely noticeable above your own heartbeat, but then it rings again, louder this time, insistent. It’s like a drill sergeant at dawn, determined to ruin whatever peace you’d managed to find. You freeze, eyes half-closed, but Alexia’s hands don’t loosen. She’s looking up at you with an expression that’s half bemused, half annoyed, as if she’s only just managed to convince herself that you’re here, and now you’re about to ruin it with some petty, buzzing bit of reality.

You almost get through it, on the cusp letting it go to voicemail or hurling the damn thing into the bottom of your Birkin where it belongs. But something in you—a survival instinct, maybe—forces you to reach for it, fumbling as you do so. Alexia’s eyes follow your hand, then flick back up to yours with an exasperated look that says, Really? Now?

You manage to grab it without rolling entirely off her, though it’s a close call. Her hands move down to your waist, still holding you in place as you glance at the screen, and of course, it’s George. It’s always George. You swear he has some kind of sixth sense, an uncanny ability to detect the exact moment you’ve slipped into some semblance of happiness, so he can yank you back with some catastrophe or another. The man is a walking interruption.

“Don’t,” Alexia murmurs, pulling you back to the matter at hand, her voice soft but firm, her hands slipping up to your ribs with a kind of slow, determined patience. But you know better. If you don’t answer now, he’ll only call back five more times, and each time, he’ll sound more panicked, until he finally leaves you a voice note that’s somehow worse than the call itself.

“I have to,” you mutter, as you answer, attempting to clear your throat and sound like you weren’t just seconds away from giving in to everything she was doing to you.

“Hello?” you say, trying and failing to keep the breathlessness out of your voice.

George’s voice crackles through the speaker, shrill and brimming with that particular brand of theatrical urgency agents reserve for “crises.” He sounds faintly nasal, the sort of voice you imagine would belong to a man with an allergy to anything fun. You imagine him sitting in his cold, grey office somewhere in Soho, every surface immaculate and white, his expression permanently fixed into a grimace of perpetual disappointment.

“You need to sit down,” he says, voice pitched in that “I’m barely holding it together” tone that never actually means anything good.

“I am sitting,” you manage, though it comes out sounding more like a gasp than anything else, because Alexia—God bless her—is now trailing her lips along the column of your throat, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re very much occupied now. In fact, you’re convinced she’s doing this on purpose, her eyes meeting yours with that devilish glint that says she’s fully aware of what she’s doing. You pull back and give her a look—part warning, part exasperation—but she only grins, slowly, like she’s daring you to keep up the charade.

George doesn’t miss a beat. “There are photos,” he says, each syllable dripping with an ominous weight that would make anyone else think he was delivering news of a tragedy.

“Photos?” you ask, as Alexia’s hand slips a little higher, her fingers just grazing the edge of your panties. You’re barely holding it together, biting down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. “George, there are always photos. What are you on about?”

He sighs, the kind of exasperated sigh he reserves for when he’s forced to explain the intricacies of your own life to you. “Not just any photos,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper that somehow makes everything sound worse. “These are… explicit”

“Explicit?” you repeat, your voice catching because Alexia’s lips are trailing across your collarbone now, her fingers dangerously close to places that make it impossible to sound remotely professional. “Define explicit, George”

He pauses, a beat of silence so thick with hesitation you can practically see his nervous, tight-lipped expression. “You and Alexia. On that yacht. Full-on… everything. Let’s just say someone with a very long-range lens took a rather extensive interest in your… activities”

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do, it’s like being doused in cold water. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the sweat on your skin, Alexia’s fingers toying with you, her mouth now having moved to the swell of your exposed breast. You can’t tell if you’re more annoyed or amused by the fact that, somehow, your most private moments have once again become public property.

Alexia looks up at you once more, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and enjoyment, as if she can tell exactly what George is saying and finds the whole thing hilarious.

“So you’re telling me,” you say, trying to sound casual, though it’s hard with Alexia’s hands and mouth all over you, “that someone out there’s publishing wildlife documentaries of my sex life?”

“Don’t be flippant,” George snaps, though his voice cracks a little, like he’s barely holding it together. “This is serious. The Daily Mail already has them. And they’re… well, they’re explicit. The kind of thing they’d plaster on the front page if they could get away with it”

For a moment, you consider the insanity of it all—your life, reduced to some tawdry tabloid spread, the kind of thing boring nosey housewives read in supermarket queues. You imagine the headlines, the breathless, shocked tones they’d use to describe “the scandal.” Never mind the fact that you’re not the first celebrity to get caught like this, nor will you be the last. But still, it stings in that strange, twisted way fame always does, a reminder that your life isn’t really your own.

“I’m sorry, George,” you say, barely stifling a moan as Alexia’s hand moves just right, making it almost impossible to keep up the conversation. “But I don’t exactly have a solution for you right now”

George lets out a strangled noise. “Well, you bloody well better come up with one. Unless you want the world to know what you look like without your clothes on. Which, I might add, is not exactly… career-friendly”

You stifle a laugh, more out of habit than anything else. Alexia’s fingers are moving with that slow, calculated patience she knows drives you mad, and you can feel your resolve slipping. “Look, George,” you say, your voice strained, “I’ll call you back. After I… handle things”

“What? You can’t just hang up on me!” he practically shrieks, but you’re already pressing ‘end call’ and tossing the phone aside.

The phone lands back somewhere on the bed, George’s panicked voice cutting off abruptly. For a moment, there’s silence, and then Alexia lets out a low, throaty laugh, her eyes alight with amusement. She reaches her free hand up, trailing her fingers along your jaw, and there’s something wicked in her smile that makes you forget the world outside the bedroom.

“Where were we?” you murmur, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else.

“Right here,” she whispers, her voice soft but possessive, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls you back down, your bodies tangling once more as you lose yourself in her warmth.

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[opencommunion]

seeing a lot of notes suggesting volunteering with or even just donating to charities and that's nice and all, but it's not the kind of connection I'm asking you to make.

several people brought up food banks so I'll take that as an example. when I was hungry I dreaded trips to the food bank bc the volunteers there had attitudes ranging from awkward to sanctimonious to hostile. if you can bring a better vibe to that role, great! but bad vibes are somewhat baked into the western model of "charity." when there's an impassable wall between the Helper and the person being Helped, it's violently dehumanizing at worst, and alienating at best; it def doesn't contribute to anything I would call "community." I ended up preferring my local Food Not Bombs chapter to the food bank, because it was organized largely by other hungry people and the vibes were more like a potluck than a breadline. look for mutual aid efforts (emphasis on mutual, meaning the service recipients are also involved in organizing the service), and if nothing like that exists where you are, start something!

volunteering can be an ok way to meet people outside your bubble, depending on the org you work for, but you need to actually give people your phone number and be up for supporting them beyond the volunteer shifts you schedule at your personal convenience. host people on your couch, offer to pick up groceries, become someone your neighbor feels comfortable asking to babysit. make friends, or at least acquaintances who you actually keep in touch with. take a personal interest in lives different from your own; meet people where they are and ask directly how you can best support them. if you check out when you clock out you're not in community.

I'm not just talking to the most privileged white lgbts, either. a lot of you guys are also suffering, but not making connections with similarly suffering people beyond your race and age group. if you're food/housing insecure, disabled, targeted by the legal system, renting from a slumlord, etc, start organizing around that struggle. start a homeless union or tenant's union, a skill exchange, a street watch group, a needle exchange, a rideshare network. think about what would help you, find other people with similar needs, and see how you can mutually support each other. that's community baby!

protests can also be a place to get involved in broader community, if you show up in a consistent way and really invest yourself. in racial justice struggle there's a pattern where higher profile protests lead to an influx of lefty whites, whose numbers rapidly dwindle as they lose interest or energy. when you show up to protests, talk to the organizers and find out how you can get sustainably involved in their efforts. the work doesn't stop with marching; you can also help with outreach, jail and court support, food/water/mask distribution, copwatching, and all the other support work that makes it possible for protesters to show up and keep showing up. if you're a medical professional, look for a street medic bridge training; if you're a legal professional, look into movement lawyering (if you're in the US the National Lawyers Guild has chapters all over); if you're athletic look for a de-arrest training. we always need more people with varied skillsets and there's definitely a place for you.

are you a minor? in a small town (here's a zine for you)? I was when I started! disabled, socially anxious, autistic, paranoid? I am, and so are at least half the radicals I know! you might be surprised by how much more comfortable and accommodating a radical space can be compared to other social settings (this varies ofc — if the vibes are bad hit the bricks!) so try to take a leap of faith and see what happens. you gotta be willing to put yourself in some amount of discomfort to get into actual community, but that community will get you through the hardest times of your life. bonds formed solely around personal attraction (romantic or platonic) or shared hobbies are not necessarily going to hold up when you're in crisis.

I don't believe anything white tumblr queers say about the virtues of 'building community' when they've made it clear 'community' to them means 'me and my white friends.' what are you building? a polycule on a hobby farm?

[froginmygarden]

Got a little brain worm on the way home and have a need to write it down. Just a drabble because I'm not good at writing.

DC x DP Just a (clone) couple

Joung Adult!Team Phantom for some reason end up in the DC universe. For reasons, there aren't any equivalents of them here. Danny and Sam are together and Danny and Dani have a familiar relationship. Whatever the reasons they stay in this universe.

So Sam, Danny and Dani start making a life together as a family, Tucker goes on to make a "small business" involving VPN's and tech in general (finds an anthropomorphic girlfriend on the way or something), Jazz goes to uni (JL members city of choice, although I advise against Gotham or Metropolis, because that would make this too short).

For some MORE reasons unknown, although they might be by the making of our favourite clock-man, the DP people's DNA has by default markings of being clones in DC (I don't know if this is canon or fanon but Connor had something like that ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭). The thing is here Jack = Bruce, Maddy = Alexander and Jeremy = Clark, Pamela = Lois! Do you see my vision here??

So *JL member from the perspective city* meets the Fenton/Manson/Nightingale?? family accidentally when they are visiting Jazz, and has a sweet deja vu moment. Some time passes and the off handedly mention it to someone in the JL.

Batman being the paranoid bastard that he is goes on to check this thing out, because he can smell the fish from a mile away. Thinks the couple are clones, gets very paranoid again and starts making plans, plans get found by his kids, kids tell the JL and friends. So starts the collective discussions of what should they do, some say that they should get rid of the clones, some others that they don't have proof for anything nefarious and shouldn't do anything at all, someone points out that they have literally showed up out of nowhere and that it is reasonable to be suspicious. And Connor is also there.

Meanwhile Team Phantom is going about their lives like normal, but with a "I know that you know" mindset, and don't really bother with hiding themselves.

In my opinion the part that has to be the most glaringly noticeable about them should be that Danny (Batman's clone apparently) should wear a lot of flannel and have a "Midwestern Nice" personality" (the stuff of legends I have only heard about in passing) and over all should resemble Clark in fashion sense. For Sam (Superman's clone apparently) the exact opposite - she can put the GOTH in Gotham.

And all JL angst/drama/confusion happens in the background as we follow Connor Kent's/Superboy's POV and him dealing with having two half siblings and the half siblings being together and them having a child and this is too much for him oooooooooo noooooooo nononoonononoonononononno what in the sweeet home Alabama whhhhhyyyyyyyy!??!

So it's like a metronome tick's between the POVs of fluffy new life/potential threat to the JL I mean the child of Bruce/Lex and child Clark/Luis having potential super-smart, super-powered (potentially evil??) children. But overall it's crack.

Maybe I'll plan it out and actually try to write it, but meanwhile you can enjoy my half-ill/fever induced brain worms and play in the brown dirt puddle I call my creative thinking.

To who ever finished reading this

Good night! ;P

[crimsoncandy04]

hii omg out of curiosity... could u do a scara with a bratty virgin reader who teases him too much thinking she can get away with it. if that suits ur tastes that is 😊😊

Of course! I may not fit the entire idea of a brat myself, but I've been told I can act a little cunty now and then so I think I can do this one fairly well.

Scaramouche was just another annoying superior you had to obey. All the harbingers were pretty much the same in the aspect that they viewed YOU as lesser than. Which technically you were by law of Snezhnaya but that wasn't YOUR fault. You were only stuck working as a subordinate for the height deficient harbinger called The Balladeer because your stupid slut mother had gambled away a HUGE loan while she was pregnant with you and instead of taking responsibility, she fled the country and hadn't been seen since you were like 6.

But the fatui weren't just going to forgive a debt that large simply because of a disappearance. No.

A group of fatuus soldiers had knocked on your grandparents door one day, led by Scaramouche. They were given three options.

1: Pay off their daughter's debts.

2: Die.

Or three...

"Give the oldest girl over and have her work it off in her mother's name." Was what the pretty faced yet slick tongued bastard had said.

Your grandparents had recently been put in charge of your half brother too as authorities had taken him from your mother's home due to excessive drug use on her part. He was just a little kid, barely 4. YOU on the other hand were now a young lady. A young adult.

He needed your grandparents.

You had had a wonderful childhood already.

And so you bowed your head and agreed to go back with The Balladeer and his cronies to the fatui headquarters and officially join the ranks.

It wasn't that bad actually. Scaramouche didn't actually seem to care or not if you didn't do your job. But you were clearly the only exception as you often watched him treat others with a cruelty that bordered on ruthlessness.

Not that it was your problem.

You often sauntered into his office late at night to chat with him. Not that he ever stopped you.

"Hey Scara what's up? Ugh you really should get better lighting here. It looks so ominous!" You bitched as you hopped up onto the edge of his rather grand looking desk and looked down at him while he worked.

"Hey let's hang out for a bit! That stuff is just boring work things anyway! I never do mine!"

He grunts.

"I know."

You pouted as you tried to scoot a little closer to him.

"ugh you're so lame today! And here I thought a harbinger as mighty as yourself could multi-task easily! It appears I was mistaken!"

Scaramouche rolled his eyes at your behavior.

"leave. I'm busy right now."

You were feeling agitated now.

"no! I've been waiting all day to hang out and now you're ignoring me!?" You turn completely around so your legs fell over on his side of the desk now. Crossing my arms as I stubbornly stand my ground.

"I'm not moving until you at least look at me you stupid meanie!" You whined.

The pen in Scaramouche's hands suddenly snapped in half. Ink splashing across the tabletop caught your attention.

"I said leave."

"make me!* You stick out your tongue and pout even more at his tone.

"it's not like you're actually gonna punish me for being here like anyone else! Stop being such a big meanie!"

Suddenly his hand was around your throat.

"Is that what you tell yourself bitch? How amusing." He squeezed your neck. Just enough to make you dizzy as you felt Scaramouche rip open the front of your buttoned white blouse.

His eyes quickly looked you over with a predatory hunger.

"you're alright I guess. For a human anyway. You'll do."

You squeak in terror as he tears off your bra next. Gently running his fingertips across your nipples and causing them to harden. as your breath hitches in your throat, you feel an unfamiliar warmth in your panties at the sensation.

He then shoved you back onto the table top.

"h-hey what are you doing? Stop this at once!" You squeak anxiously. Being almost frozen in fear as you feel Scaramouche roughly lift up your shirt and expose your panties to his smug looking gaze.

"what? Not so tough now that you finally realize how insignificant you are?"

He traces the outline of your wet slit through the dampened fabric.

"how pathetic. Acting all bold and yet you're already shaking and getting excited before I've even touched you."

Scaramouche easily tears away the delicate fabric as he spreads your knees wide for him. He kneels down and closely takes in the sight of your exposed sex. Gently pulling your folds open to give him a better look at you.

You feel his cool breath against your inner labia as you begin to tremble.

Finally something clicks for him.

"oh? I see you've never been had yet. It's almost funny Y/N, at your age? Seriously? What?"

He pinched your clit softly

"too shy?" His raspy tone bordered on a seductive growl as you feel him rub little circles on your pleasure nub.

"ugh it's not like I haven't had chances before! I just didn't care for anyone enough to want to do that stuff!"

Your words were met with a jeering cackle as Scaramouche simply sighed and slowly began to ease two fingers into your unbroken entrance.

A strong ache filled your body as you moaned softly and saw blood drip onto his palm as you struggled to raise your head and see what he was doing at first.

Immediately he shoved your head back down and kept a firm grasp on your throat.

"stay still sweetheart. If you don't relax, it's going to be excruciating."

You felt him begin to slowly start thrusting his fingers in and out of your tight pussy. Successfully popping your cherry as you blushed deeply and tried to muffle your cries using your hands.

He leans down and gives your clit a gentle lick next. Teasing you now as you whimper at the new feeling. More warmth filling your lower abdomen as you feel your legs tremble while Scaramouche continued to lap at your untouched bud. Deliberately trying to draw out the strange rising feeling in your tummy. You cry a little as you finally dare speak.

"Please... stop this... I'll pee!" You wail pitifully as his eyes took on a seductive look.

"That's not what's about to happen sweetie ~ don't worry, you're about to feel really good, I promise ~"

He released your upper body and began to focus more on stimulating your tight cunt as he fingered your sensitive walls and continued to gently suck on your clit. Giving it a little bite now and then that made your legs tremble.

Finally you feel your lower abdomen tighten. Your insides pulse as you feel yourself squirt. Scaramouche swallows every drop almost eagerly as he continues to tongue fuck you through your orgasm.

Only when you lay breathless and exhausted upon the table before him, does he finally free his rather large cock from the confines of his shorts, pressing the tip teasingly at your entrance.

"You were all bark just an hour ago bitch. Now you're just a whimpering mess. What happened?"

You felt Scaramouche slide his dick into your pussy then. The thickness stretching you beyond capacity as you wince and feel yourself whine a little.

"Do you realize your place now cunt? Maybe this will teach you to talk with a little more respect towards your superiors."

He began to slowly thrust into you then. Your oversensitive cunt spasming with every thrust as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

Scaramouche leaned down to steal a kiss too. Shoving his tongue into your mouth as you held onto him. Swallowing up your cute and girlish moans of pleasure and pain as you dug your nails into his back and felt him quicken his pace.

He fucked against your cervix as he continued to press your knees upwards more as he got closer to finishing. Bringing your knees practically beside your head as he got a little rougher then. Forcing you into a sick mating press position as he claimed your virgin womb for himself.

Scaramouche groaned and bit your bottom lip a little as you felt him pour his hot seed into you after what felt like the longest hour of your life. His sadistic smirk widened as he pulled out of your bloody cum filled cunt.

"This will be your new job from now on. Don't bother refusing. You still owe me a debt. " He stuck his fingers in your dripping depths again.

"however, keep being as obedient as you were tonight and this sweet cunt might just pay it off sooner than you think."

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; after a tense confrontation with laswell, you find comfort and support in alejandro and rudy. but just as you're beginning to regain your footing, an unexpected call pulls you back into the fray.

★ warnings; slightly graphic content/body horror

☆ story masterlist

Entering through the back door, you find Laswell already settled in the quiet of the bar, humming softly to a tune playing low over the speakers. She’s at ease, arranging bottles and tallying inventory, a steaming cup of tea beside her. The smell of fresh herbs mingles with the earthy scent of aged wood, creating a warmth that would normally be comforting. But today, it feels stifling. It’s strange to see her so relaxed, not even glancing up as you approach.

Finally, she looks up, her face softening with a small but welcoming smile. “Early morning for you too, I see,” she says, taking a sip of tea. “Couldn’t sleep, I take it?”

“Not quite,” you manage, biting back the surge of emotions. You clear your throat, shifting your weight, the ache in your injured ankle sharp and relentless, yet she seemed oblivious to your state.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, her tone too polite, too casual. “I was just going over inventory—didn’t expect any company.”

The sheer calmness in her voice, the way she doesn’t mention last night's missed call or notice the obvious signs of wear and urgency, makes your stomach churn with a dawning realization.

“Laswell, I’m here because something’s wrong. Deeply wrong,” you begin, pushing down the frustration building inside. “I have confirmed it—here, look,” you take out the nail and unwrap it, carefully keeping the cloth between it and your skin.

She barely glances at it, lifting her cup again. “It’s just a nail,” she says, a hint of bemusement in her tone. “Really, you’re letting your mind run away with whatever this is.”

You feel your chest tighten as you feel your face flush with a mix of indignation and flaring anger. "Laswell, I found this embedded in my floor—right where Ghost scratched it, again and again, after he attacked us. He nearly tore the place apart, and Sybil… she was badly hurt. Whatever this is, it's powerful. It's gotten into him, into all of them!"

You’re practically pleading now, voice rising, words tumbling over each other in near hysteria. "S-someone is using Leah as a conduit. It’s a manipulation curse, this isn't some baseless paranoia—it's real, and it's tearing us apart from the inside out!"

Still, she doesn’t respond with the urgency you need. Instead, she watches you with that frustratingly calm demeanour.

Laswell sighs, setting her cup down as though indulging you. “You’ve always been dramatic, but this is getting excessive. Think about it: a nail?” She offers a patronising half-smile. “It’s unlike you, letting yourself be so easily swept away.”

Her words are like a slap. You feel the fury finally bubbling over, mixed with disbelief. “I’m not imagining things. I need you to see it for what it is—”

But she only raises her hand, dismissing you with a calm indifference. “Enough, really. There’s no curse here, no manipulative power. Just a town, a pack, and emotions running high. Take a few days, step back, and you’ll see it, too.”

Your hands tremble as you clutch the cursed nail. The way she brushes off your concerns, the lack of urgency despite everything you’ve told her—it’s too much to bear. Without another word, you turn on your heel, seething, but not before leaving him with some scalding last words.

“This town, these people—you’re supposed to protect them,” you say, your voice sharp and bitter. “What good is all that power if you’re blind to everything that’s rotting under your own roof?” The words hang in the air, and before she can respond, you storm out, the cursed nail still in your grip, its weight like a reminder of everything gone wrong.

. . .

Outside, the cold air hits you, but it does nothing to cool your anger. Just as you take a shaky breath, a car pulls up with a shrill just a few steps ahead, and your heart jumps. Then, you spot Alejandro and Rudy inside, their expressions shadowed with something. Instinct flares, and you stiffen, suspicious and guarded. You take a step back, but Alejandro calls out to you.

“Preciosa (Precious/Darling) get in,” Alejandro urges, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. “We need to talk.”

You hesitate by the curb, your instincts still buzzing from your one-sided confrontation with Laswell. Alejandro’s face is unreadable, but Rudy leans over from the passenger seat, his eyes searching yours with concern.

“We know about the attack,” he says, his tone low, though you sense his anger just beneath the surface. “Alejandro and I found Ghost earlier today. He was…covered in blood. Your blood.”

After a breathless pause, you nod and climb into the back seat. The door shuts with a thump, and Alejandro swiftly pulls away from the curb, guiding the car back into the street. 

“We saw the state of your place. And also we found Sybil.” Alejandro's gaze meets yours through the rearview mirror, his usual hard expression softening. “She told me everything.”

A wave of relief washes over you. They know—they understand. You’re no longer alone in this nightmare, and the realisation loosens something inside you. The strength you’d clung to so desperately wavers, and for a moment, you almost break.

“I see,” you manage, voice thick with the strain of it all.

Rudy reaches over from the driver’s seat, his brow furrowing as he gives you a careful once-over, spotting your wrapped ankle right away. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks quietly, reaching out to lift your wrist and gently turn your arm, checking for bruises or scrapes that might’ve been missed. His fingers hover over your shoulder, where you wince, and he draws his hand back slightly, though his concern is palpable.

Alejandro peeks at you from over his shoulder. “You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he says before looking back at the road, voice steady but laced with concern. “Let's just head back to your shop. We’ll talk there.”

His words are firm, leaving no room for argument. Beside him, Rudy nods, his hand still resting on yours as if grounding you. “You’re not doing this alone,” he adds, gentle but insistent.

Seeing them both so attuned to the toll this has taken on you, the comfort of their presence chips away at the wall you’ve held up, giving you space to breathe—if only for a moment.

The drive back  is spent in tense conversation as you bring them up to speed, laying out everything—the cursed nail, Leah’s manipulation, and your suspicions about the pack’s infection. Rudy listens intently from the passenger seat, brows drawn with a mix of disbelief and concern. Alejandro nods along, his jaw tight, gripping the steering wheel as you delve into the twisted details.

When you arrive at the shop, they immediately set to work. Alejandro rolls up his sleeves and begins putting everything Ghost toppled back into place, lifting shelves and setting furniture upright. Meanwhile, Rudy moves closer to inspect your injuries. Despite your insistence that they’re fine, he gently checks over your bandages, his expression softened with a mix of care and worry.

Alejandro pauses, dusting his hands off. “We shouldn’t stay for too long,” he says, voice low, as if half-worried the town itself might hear. “If the pack’s fallen under whatever's hanging over Leah’s, then it’s only a matter of time before it tries to spread. Whatever’s protecting us might not hold up if we stay around.”

A lump forms in your throat at the thought of being left alone again, but he doesn’t give you time to dwell on it. “Look, we can help in one more way,” he adds. “Let us take that nail, and we’ll get it checked out. We know people—ones who are good at tracking this sort of thing.”

You hesitate for a moment but know he’s right. Their network is solid, and they might be your best shot at uncovering the root of this twisted curse. Finally, you nod.

Rudy and Alejandro then continue to finish helping to restore some semblance of order to the wrecked shop. Only when the last of the glass is swept away and the floor looks almost recognizable do they finally step back, taking a moment to exchange glances. They’re still worried, you can tell, but the relief in their eyes says they can see you’re calmer now—more prepared to handle what’s to come.

Alejandro puts a hand on your shoulder, swiping some hair away from your face, his voice steady. “Remember, we’re a call away. And say goodbye to Sybil for us, yeah?”

Rudy nods, adding, “Yeah, tell her to stay safe. Both of you.”

You give them both a small smile, touched by their concern. They head for the door, casting one last, reassuring look over their shoulders. “Buena suerte, (Good luck)” Alejandro says as they finally step outside. “You’ll figure this out, and if you need us, we’re only a call away.”

As the door clicks shut behind them, the silence settles around you, leaving only the lingering comfort of their support. You turn back to the remnants of your shop, now tidier and slightly more familiar. But there’s no mistaking the weight still hanging in the air, pressing you forward.

. . .

Later that day, you’re carefully tending to Sybil. Between gentle touches, you juggle phone calls to regular shoppers, letting them know their orders will be delayed, and texting to suppliers, asking them to hold off until next week.

"Yes, Mrs. Eldridge, I understand the urgency. I’ll have the tonic for you as soon as possible. A few more days, thank you so much for your patience."

“Can you give me just a few more days? I’m handling some unforeseen… complications.”

The anxiety gnaws at you, a creeping feeling that your business teeters on a precarious edge. You remind yourself, almost like a mantra, that you have some savings—it’s enough to keep things afloat, for a time. But only if matters resolve quickly.

Returning your attention to Sybil, you feel the weight of it all settle onto your shoulders, heavier than you care to admit. You reach out, pressing a soft kiss to her snoot. “We’ll make it through, love. One way or another, we’ll figure this out.”

You settle on the floor, back pressed against the edge of your bed where Sybil is resting, her breathing calm but shallow. Your contact book lies open across your lap, and your phone is balanced precariously on your knee as you scroll through names and numbers, ticking off the people you’ve already called. Each tick brings a sense of relief, a small semblance of control in the storm that has upturned your life. You pause, taking a moment to rub your temples, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in your bones.

As you prepare to make another call, the sudden shrill ring of your phone pierces the quiet. The sound jolts you, and your grip tightens reflexively. Glancing down at the screen, your heart flounders and tightens painfully. Price. His name flashes across the screen, dread washing over you—why call now?

You nearly don’t answer. But your thumb hovers, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press accept and bring the phone to your ear.

“….Hello?”

His voice comes instantly through, raw and laced with an edge you’ve never heard before. “It’s Leah,” he says, words tumbling over each other. “She’s burning up, sick as hell, and nothing’s working. We can’t get the fever down. We’ve tried everything.”

“And so you called me?” you say, voice hardening against the anger rising in your chest. “After everything, you think I’m the one to fix this?”

He’s silent for a beat, then quietly, “Yes.” He doesn’t try to justify it, and the simple honesty in his answer makes you hesitate, grounding the anger you wanted to unleash. This wasn’t just a request—this was desperation.

“Start from the beginning,” you say, voice tight but steady. “Tell me every detail of her symptoms, when they started, how they’ve progressed—don’t leave anything out.”

Price’s voice, strained but controlled, begins to unravel the story: Leah had seemed fine until a few nights ago, just tired, but by morning, the fever had set in—high, unrelenting, and resistant to everything they’d tried. She’s grown weaker by the hour, barely coherent. His descriptions blur into each other, desperation breaking through his calm as he shares every attempt they’ve made, every remedy that’s failed.

As he speaks, you descend the stairs into your shop, eyes scanning over the remnants of what’s left. Some vials remain intact, and you sift through them, gathering anything that might help—the fever reducers, the cleansing tonics, a few precious herbs that hadn’t been shattered in the chaos.

“Alright,” you say when he’s finished, stuffing the gathered supplies into your bag with a steady hand. “I’ll bring what I can and get there as soon as possible. Just… keep her comfortable, and don’t try anything else. I’ll be there soon.”

You go back up to find Sybil with her head raised, her large eyes full of a quiet, unwavering insistence. She’s done laying around; every inch of her posture says as much. She huffs, as if to say, If you’re going, so am I. You hesitate, feeling the weight of her stare—knowing she’s right. If whatever is behind this catches you apart, it’ll only make things worse.

Sighing, you brush a hand over her snout and murmur, “Alright, girl, you win.” Carefully and balancing your bag on one shoulder, you lift her and move her into the truck, arranging some blankets you keep in your trunk to make her as comfortable as possible. Sybil settles there, eyes sharp and ready as you get a move on.

When you reach the house and park your truck, you dig into your bag and pull out a small bundle of sage, binding it to the rearview mirror with a careful knot. Whispering a few words over it, you weave a protective spell that should shield Sybil from harm while alerting you if anything—or anyone—tries to break into the truck.

You lean over the seat and give her a gentle kiss on her head, murmuring, “Stay safe, girl. I’ll be back soon.” She watches you leave, calm but alert.

As you walk up the driveway, memories drift up. The last time you were here, Leah had answered the door, her face bright despite the chaos inside. Now, as you step up to the door, the silence presses down like a heavy weight.

No one comes to greet you. The door creaks open with a single push, echoing down the empty hall as you slip inside, clutching your bag of supplies. The moment you step further into the threshold, the stench hits you—a sickly blend of decay and stale air. Instinctively, you raise a hand to cover your nose, eyes narrowing as you take in the disarray around you.

The entryway is a wasteland of discarded belongings, papers scattered and kicked to the sides, dusty furniture slumped as though forgotten. You feel the hairs on your neck prickle—Price would never leave things like this. And as for Gaz…his wards are gone, their faint warmth and hum that once guarded the house is now absent.

You continue forward, each step creaks underfoot, the house itself feeling more hollow, like it’s been emptied of any life it once held. Climbing the stairs, the stench only worsens. Passing door after door, you scan each room until, finally, near the far end of the hall, you find him.

Price sits on the floor, back against the wall, head in his hands. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t even flinch as you approach. His clothes rumpled, stained, his usual military crispness replaced by a weary, slumped figure.

“John?” you call softly, your voice barely a whisper.

He lifts his head, and the exhaustion in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. His beard is wild and unkempt, deep lines crease his face, shadows under his eyes dark and hollow. He looks up at you as if he’s only half-awake, half-alive, struggling to register that someone else is even there.

“It’s…you,” he mumbles, a hint of relief breaking through the fog in his eyes. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

His words are tinged with something raw, almost pleading, and you tighten your grip on your bag. “Of course I came. I tried to reach you all, and you didn’t—” you bite back the accusation, the fear twisting into frustration. “…what the hell happened here?”

Price’s gaze flickers away, his shoulders slumping further. He rubs a hand over his face, trying to muster some semblance of composure, but it crumbles almost immediately. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, voice hoarse. “Things just…fell apart.”

His words are weak and lacklustre. You want to lash out, unleash the anger and frustration that's been building since you first walked through the door—the endless, ignored messages, the silence, the sheer neglect they've let fester. You want to scream at him for allowing things to come to this. 

But reality hangs heavy in the air. No amount of shouting will help undo things. 

“Where's everyone else?” you ask, trying to mask your anxiety.

“Gaz is inside with Leah,” he replies, his voice taut with worry. “Ghost… he’s locked himself away in the far wing of the house. We’ve set up protective spells on the door to keep him contained. And Soap—he’s somewhere in the forest, too feral to be around right now.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, and square your shoulders. With Ghost gone for now....you feel a little safer. “Show me to Leah,” you say, voice steady. “We can talk about everything else later.”

He stands up and guides you into the room, which is Inside is clean, organised, and untouched by the decay and disorder in the rest of the house. Just as you step inside, Gaz appears, his gaze catching yours with a flash of shock. “You…you came.” His voice is hoarse, filled with a mix of disbelief and hope.

But you cut him off with a look. “I’ll talk to both of you once I’ve seen Leah.” You push past him, heart pounding as you approach the bed.

Leah lies there motionless, her skin pale and almost translucent, sweat dampening her hair as she struggles to breathe. She’s a shadow of the person you remember, her body frail, almost brittle-looking. You press your hand to her forehead, feeling the unnatural heat radiating off her. 

Setting up on the nightstand, you start with a fresh egg and an empty cup. “I need to check for any curses or malign influences,” you explain to Price and Gaz, who hover close, concern etched on their faces. You position the egg over Leah, your breath catching as you begin to run it gently over her body. 

As you pass the egg over her chest, it feels heavy in your hand, and you take note of that at the back of your thoughts. When you finally pull it away and break it over the cup, you grimace at what comes out: the contents are putrid, blackened and oozing a foul-smelling substance. 

“Damn it,” you curse under your breath, your heart racing as the implications sink in. “This is worse than I thought.”

Panic flares in Price’s eyes, and Gaz leans in closer, both of them wanting to understand, to help. “What does it mean?” Price asks, his voice tense with fear.

“Out!” you shout, frustration boiling over. “Both of you, out! I can’t think with you hovering like that!” The urgency in your voice surprises even you, but they back off reluctantly, exchanging glances that communicate their worry.

Once the door closes behind them, the air feels a bit lighter, and you let out a shaky breath. You pull the covers off Leah, apologising under your breath. “I’m sorry, Leah. I need to do this.” Gently, you start to examine her body, careful and methodical. You can’t shake the guilt of not getting her consent first, but you know this is necessary.

You search her body meticulously, hoping to find any physical signs of injury or affliction. But as you scan her limbs, you find nothing—no cuts, no bruises. Just skin that feels too hot, a pulse that’s weak and fluttering. Anxiety gnaws at you; if there’s nothing physical, then what is causing this?

With no other options left, you resort to the looking glass spell—one you keep at the back of your mind and rarely use. You quickly step out, and catch Gaz’s attention with a quiet call of his name. John is nowhere to be seen.

He steps forward immediately, brows knitted in concern. “What is it?”

You hesitate only a moment before asking, “Could you bring me a bowl of warm water? And some soap—any kind, just… something that’ll make enough bubbles.”

Gaz’s expression flickers with curiosity and a bit of worry, but he nods. “Sure thing. Won’t take a minute.” He disappears down the hall and into the kitchen.

Within moments, he’s back, handing you a small basin filled with steaming water and a bottle of liquid soap. “Anything else?”

You shake your head, barely sparing him a glance back. “No, I’ve got it from here.”

He glances at Leah, and with a brief nod backs away, closing the door softly behind him.

You shake your head in dismay, before squeezing a healthy amount of soap into bowl and dipping your hands in, the heat soothing against your chilled fingers. You rub your palms until a layer of bubbles forms, the light, pearlescent film floating just above the surface. Steadying yourself, you shape your hands into a ring, forming a delicate, translucent ‘looking glass’ with your thumb and index finger.

You take a deep breath, focusing your energy, letting it flow from your fingertips into the circle as you gaze through it. The room dims, the world beyond your fingers blurring, until the scene sharpens again, revealing the inside of Leah’s chest.

Inside, her heart pulses faintly, its rhythm disturbingly slow, a faint and fragile beat. Wrapped tightly around it is a writhing, segmented parasite—long and winding, like some twisted centipede. It coils and constricts, pulsating in time with her heartbeat as though feeding off her very life force.

A sickening wave of horror hits you, and you gasp, the bubble popping and breaking the spell. This is forbidden magic—and worse of all, vampiric in nature. Your hands shake, and you clutch them tightly to your chest, fighting the urge to look away from her still form on the bed.

It’s one thing to read about such creatures in dusty old texts, where they’re distant, almost mythological threats. But to see it here, wrapped around Leah’s heart, consuming her from within…!

You’d need something far beyond the usual tools to dislodge it. The necessary charms, wards, and talismans to attempt such a removal aren’t here in your humble kit, and even if they were… you’re not sure you’d be able to muster the energy needed. Not now. Not after everything.

Your thoughts immediately freeze, instantly conjuring the one person who could help—a name surfacing like an unwanted ghost in your mind. The thought of her makes your skin prickle, a reflexive dread settling deep in your gut.

Unlike before, you wouldn't be calling for a friend. No, far from it.

You glance at your discarded phone, wet fingers hovering just over the screen. To ask for her help would mean facing scrutiny, judgement—the cold, familiar sting of disappointment. Worst of all, the quiet, unspoken proof of what you already fear: that you were never strong enough on your own.

But right now, there’s no time to weigh the consequences. And so, you dial a number, that even thought you had long deleted from your contacts, you still know by heart.

The line rings, each tone echoing your mounting anxiety, and when it finally clicks, silence stretches between you and the other end. You know she’s there—she’s just waiting for you to speak, to ask for what you need.

You squirm, shifting your weight as you muster the courage to break the tension. After what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to speak, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“Mother,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, strained with urgency. “I need your help.”

banner credit

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

need a bigger size

✰ summary: you’re six months pregnant and calling your husband to help you put on the jeans you just can’t seem to wear right now.

✰ warnings: MDNI!! satoru gojo x fem reader, pregnant reader, soon to be dad satoru, mentioning of sex

✰ a little note: i apologize for it being a bit short. i hope you like it. also, you can tell that i wrote this during my ovulation.

“Ugh… please, please fit. I really don’t want to buy another pair of pants.”

The sixth month of your pregnancy hadn’t exactly been a breeze. Your belly was getting bigger, and the clothes you bought just two weeks ago were barely fitting. Could a person really gain this much weight in two weeks?

As you struggled to pull your jeans up over your hips, you were truly at your limit. Moments like this made you question why you were pregnant in the first place. A simple act of getting dressed had turned into a sweaty, intense battle. You had no choice but to play your last card.

“Satoruuu! Can you come here for a second, please?”

As you kept struggling with your jeans, you heard footsteps approaching the bedroom. You looked miserably toward the door, seeing your husband with his perfect, well-kept hair standing there, giving you an amused look. You, on the other hand, had sweat-plastered hair sticking to every part of your face.

“I didn’t know you wanted to have a quick fuck so bad before we went shopping.”

Your husband was truly straightforward. But right now, more than a quick fuck, you needed to fit into these $70 jeans.

“How on earth did you think I wanted that?”

While leaning against the doorframe, Satoru walked over and stood in front of your struggling body.

“First, you’re trying to take off your pants. Second, you’ve been moaning for the past five minutes and—”

“OH MY GOD NO! I’VE JUST BEEN TRYING TO PUT ON THESE DAMN JEANS FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR, SATORU.”

The mischievous grin on your husband’s face instantly transformed into disappointment. Did he really not realize you were just trying to put on your jeans?

“So, the moans that I could hear all the way in the living room were just because of your jeans?” He sounded so genuinely let down that, as mad as you were, you felt a bit sorry for him.

“FINALLY, YOU GET IT.”

Your husband went into defense mode. “Hey, calm down, wifey. As your husband, who’s constantly thinking about wanting you, of course I’d think that way.”

“Gosh I’m so sorry. Pregnancy is really making me so irritable.” You hadn’t even realized you were yelling, and it upset you to treat the person you loved most in the world this way. All the blame lay on these cursed jeans, which had fit just fine two weeks ago.

A sweet smile appeared on Satoru’s face as he cupped your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “Never apologize to me. Alright, then, let’s get these jeans on you and head out shopping!”

Satoru moved behind you and took hold of the jeans stuck just below your hips. “Okay, this might be a bit tough, but take a deep breath, baby.”

Listening to him, you took a deep breath and allowed him to work the jeans over your hips. After a few challenging minutes, he’d finally managed to help you get them on.

“You might actually be the strongest, Satoru.” As you buttoned your jeans, he moved to stand in front of you again.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m always the strongest for you and our babygirl.”

After managing to fasten the buttons, you threw your arms around his neck with a triumphant smile. “I should have stopped you from getting me pregnant that night. Being pregnant is seriously tough. I bought these jeans just two weeks ago, and now they barely go over my ass”

“You’re the one who said you’d kill me if I didn’t get you pregnant that night, wifey. Besides,” he paused for a moment and placed his hands on your full hips, giving them both a firm squeeze, “if I’d known these amazing things would be this big, I would’ve gotten you pregnant the day I first saw you.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, giving him a quick peck on the lips before turning around to grab the shirt you’d left on the bed. “Let me just put on this shirt real quick and we-”

The sound of ripping made you freeze, and your hands instinctively reached to feel the tear right where your backside was. Your jeans had split straight down the middle.

“Shit, shit, shit… GOD, I PAID 70 DOLLARS FOR THESE DAMN JEANS!” You cursed angrily at them, glancing at the rip in the mirror. Your husband, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, was happily staring at the split right in the center of your backside.

“I guess this might be a sign that I should fuck you before we go shopping.”

Yeah, it really was, because after he finished speaking, he started kissing you hungrily. Later that day, while out shopping for baby items, you ended up buying a new pair of jeans. You just hoped they wouldn’t tear from the back after wearing them.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[livelaughloveluffy]

Hi HELP uhm this is my first time um asking but like idk if you do requests but uhm I was wondering if you could do luffy comforting reader on their period,, perchance... if not that totally finee ❤️🤑 I hope you have a great day or night I also enjoy your writings alot they r so sweet and they make me happy ,, okay bye 🥷

comfort - monkey d. luffy

a/n: firstly!! thank you so much for your request!! im so happy you enjoy my writing!! 💗 this was definitely well timed since i was planning something similar to your request!! i hope you like this!!! you have a great day/night as well!!! 💗💗💗

nothing but fluff here! 💗

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

when he comforts you:

-luffy is the sweetest boy and the second he picks up on you feeling slightly off, he's all over you. clinging to your body, asking you hundreds of doting questions. the phrase "are you sure?" is something you are destined to hear millions of times because luffy does tend to miss some social cues and he really want to make sure he understands how you're feeling because you mean the world to him 😭

-this baby will do anything and everything to make you smile. silly faces galore, bad puns and jokes, you name it, he's done it. it breaks his heart to see you without a smile, or to not hear the sound of your laughter.

-his simplistic and naive nature unironically makes luffy give the best advice 💀 he doesnt even do it on purpose, he just has a way to instantly comfort and ease you. "everything will work out!!! im here for you!" he'll tell you with the sweetest smile and his signature laugh

-he's a clinger, he'll hold onto you super tight, wrapping his legs around your waist with his arms dangling around your neck giving you constant cuddles. his soft raven hair tickling your cheek as his chin rests on your shoulder, his warm soft skin radiating through your clothes. he doesn't want to leave you alone and physical reassurance is so extremely natural to him.

-luffy is for sure a praiser. you've heard hundreds of thousands of reminders of how amazing, kind, smart, funny, cool, thoughtful, etc. you are. he showers you with words of affirmation as often as possible

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: he's such a worrier 😭😭😭 he absolutely refuse to leave your side at all, no matter how much you protest and say you're fine. luffy will 100% crawl into your bed, pulling you into his arms, wrapping them two times too many around your waist, holding you close to him. he's always down to get you plenty of snacks, as long as you promise to share, however this often ends up with sanji barging into your room chasing after luffy, with his arms holding half the contents of kitchen pantry. you are his favorite snack buddy after all 😌

when he needs comforting:

-physical touch is a huge comfort to luffy, he will constantly need your hands all over him, your body pressed against him, kisses peppered across his skin, any and all physical contact instantly relieves him.

-he definitely appreciates it when you steal extra food and snacks for him, or sweet-talking sanji into making special desserts that you then pass to luffy.

- luffy does thrive off of hearing praise, so its a great relief to him when he hears you tell him how he's doing a good job, he's a great captain, and other similar sentiments.

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

a/n: luffy's my sweet boy and i love him so near and dear to my heart 😭😭😭 i'm thinking about starting a taglist, so if anyone is interested in that just let me know!!

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[luimagines]

The Legendary Mermaid

Another commission!

They asked for a Legend and Reader where mermaids are involved. I'd explain more but I don't want to spoil it. XD

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Link didn’t think much of you at first. You were clumsy. Uncoordinated. One of the most ungraceful beings he has ever had the… um... pleasure to meet.

You spoke in broken Hylian but he could understand you well enough. When he stumbled into you on the beach he tried to go through the number of languages that he knew were native to the area but none of them seemed to click with you.

You were excitable and wobbly. You looked straight out of a ship wreck so you could have been from anywhere.

Still- Link wasn’t about to abandon you when you clearly had no idea where you were.

He took you into his village, set you up with a place to stay with some helpful neighbors and thought that his duty of care was done. He was wrong.

Turns out! You had a habit of running off in the middle of the day and going off to who knows where. The first time it happened, poor Gulley was in a tizzy trying not to panic because he thought you were just really good at hide and seek and he didn’t want you to miss dinner.But he couldn’t find you anywhere.

More people got involved.

They still had no idea where you went. Hours passed and the sun went down but no one had a clue where their strange and sudden visitor could have gone off to.

Link suddenly had the terrible thought that maybe you went off into the lake and something terrible happened. He ran as fast as he could but his panic happened to be unfounded.

You were there, soaking wet but otherwise unharmed, playing a small hermit crab that had somehow made it out of the water.

Link had half the mind to scold you, but your innocent giggles at the tiny creature had enough incentive to get him to calm down first. He bought you back where many of the aunties and elders fussed over you before giving you a warm bowl of soup and tucking you away for the night.

Your galavanting happened at least every other day. It didn’t take long for Link to realize that everytime you went missing, you were actually just by some body of water. 

He thought that maybe you just had a childish way of exploring. Or maybe you just liked to splash and swim. He wasn’t one to judge. He just wished you told people where you were going and when you planned to be back so no one would worry about you.

When you decided to stay in the village and interact with other humans for a change, you were like a fish out of water. 

You crashed into walls. You tripped over your own two feet. You would lose your balance at the oddest of times.

“Whoa!” Link caught you the arm before you could fall over and land face first into a pile of mud. “You know… You walk like a newborn deer.”

“What is deer?” You ask on impulse.

Link pauses and gives you a questioning look but decides to keep his judgment silent. Maybe there’s just no deer where you’re from. Somehow. Which would be strange considering how popular they are. Then again, you’ve never mentioned how you got to where they are or where you grew up. It seemed to be the only topic you actively avoided talking about.

“An animal.” Link says instead. “They have skinny legs and they begin walking on the day they’re born. The males have horns on their heads.”

“....Do they shine? Many colors?” You ask with a hopeful expression on your face.

Link hates to be the bearer of bad news, but he finds that he can’t lie to you. “Not really. They hide a lot so they look like golden grass and dried leaves.”

“Grass.” You stand up straighter, still holding onto his arm. “...Hm…”

Link has no idea how to respond to that.

“Yes.” He tries anyway. “They’re actually quite big once they’re fully grown. They’re majestic creatures.”

“Magic?” You tilt your head.

“No magic.” He shakes his head. “ Ma-ges-tic.”

“...Oh.” 

Is he going crazy or do you sound disappointed? Link swallows the spit in his throat, not sure why he feels the need to not only make you feel better, but to also impress you. “Most animals can’t do magic but they’re still very impressive. You know- if you want, we can always go into the forest and look for them. How’s that sound?”

You smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Link feels his heart bob. He’s not sure if he’s doing this right. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah? After I’m done with my work in the forge, I’ll come look for you and we can go explore some more.”

Your eyes light up a little more genuinely and you nod enthusiastically to boot.

Link feels better about this suddenly.

Until tomorrow rolls around and you’re once again nowhere to be found.

Link wants to ram his head into the nearest wall. How could he forget? It was a ‘Go for a Swim Day’ today. It was part of your pattern. Did he just forget all his senses suddenly?

Groaning for the extra mileage he has to walk, he heads home first to collect some stuff for the journey. Surely you would be hungry at some point, right? Maybe he can make it a picnic too. There’s a nice spot that overlooks the valley that he knows of. You seem to be the type of person who enjoys the simple things his home has to offer.

Not only that but you seem rather focused on finding magical items. Or at least you try to find something magical in every nook and cranny. …He has a few magical items. That can impress you! He packs his magic mirror, his fire arrows and his mermaid tail. You’ll probably find a river or pond that you’d want to jump in. Since you love to swim so much, maybe he’ll join you just this once and show off a bit. Surely you’ve never seen anything like it.

Once he has everything set, he checks the nearby creek first- hoping you didn’t decide to splash around and find out.

Nothing.

Not a stone unturned and not a single piece of evidence that anyone had been here earlier. 

Link groans louder and turns on his heel to head down to the lake instead. He knows he’s being dramatic, but you’re not around to witness his pettiness, so he’s at liberty to do what he wants.

His feet are aching by the time he finally makes it to the lake. He kicks off his shoes to walk along the warm sandband before he begins his search anew. There’s not much that he thinks he has to look for. A bag? Some footprints? A discarded shirt or something? Your shoes by the side of the bank?

He finds… nothing.

“Where are you?” Link growls and flops onto the dirt. He pouts and puts his cheeks in his palms as he tries to think about what to do next. There goes his plans for the afternoon. And probably well into the evening at that. 

Link can’t help the sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest at the thought of being stood up. Not this was any big deal or anything- but he didn’t realize how much he was actually looking forward to this moment until he couldn’t have it.

Well.. He’s at the lake anyway. And he has the mermaid tail. He’ll get something for you. He can dive to the bottom of the lake and find something cool for you!

Link shimmies the tail on without a second thought and crawls into the water. The magic takes effect at once. He takes his first deep breath and pushes himself further into the cold. He feels his legs become intertwined with his item. The cold loses the sting the further he goes and although it takes a bit longer for his brain to adjust than he’d like, Link is quickly swimming deeper and deeper to where no other Hylian has gone before.

His eyes take longer to adjust. Considering he’s more worried about not forgetting that he can now breathe underwater, he’s still to ignore that little tidbit. All he has to do is swim straight down anyway.

Something moves to his left.

Link stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” He blurts. The sound he makes is warbled, broken as it always is when he tries to speak underwater.

In a split second, the figure blasts in front of him, sending him back a few feet. He brings up his arms to block any unwanted water from going up his nose and growls.

You poke his arm two seconds later.

“AH!” He screams without meaning to.

You seem just as perplexed and confused. You tilt your head and swim back just enough so that you can see him in his entirety. “Link?”

Your voice has changed too, but not quite like his does when he’s in this form. Your voice is clear as crystal and he can physically feel the waves it produces as they curl around his ears and his body.

He repeats your name with the same shocked reverence.

You break out into excited chitters and clicks, sounds he’s never heard before poke all around his body and he thinks he can feel the very effect they have on his brain.

You swim back over to him and twirl him around in earnest. You look delighted to see him here.

Link takes the moment to also look you over.

A mermaid.

He flushes when he sees more than he’s bargained for. Of course. What purpose do clothes serve to a mermaid?

You swim circles around him. The movement is graceful and borderline poetic, nothing like the way you move on land. Your tail was glittery and bejeweled with colors he hadn’t known could sparkle in the low light of the lake water. It trailed after you like a silk scarf or a skilled ribbon dancer.

He was staring.

You seemed to have caught on quickly that he was enthralled by your body. A part of you wonders why. Another feels the need to be embarrassed. You’ve dressed in the way of the finless for so long that you’ve almost adopted their shameful thinking to cover up one's form. The third and final part of you actually likes his attention. He’s impressed. Enamored, almost. This is the part of you that wins.

Smirking, you decide to metaphorically test the waters and dance around him some more, brushing your tail against his and pulling him this way and that with your dance alone. You swim away for just a second, wanting to play some more with the strange boy that can be of both worlds.

Link jolts out of the trance you’ve put him in and skips to follow you.

You laugh.

His breath catches in his throat at the sound of subtle trills and chirps. Link freezes completely in his spot. Your laugh tickles him even as he begins to sink from the lack of movement once more.

“You swim worse than a guppy.”

Link falters and the ethereal moment for him is shattered in an instant.

“Hey!” He says instead.

You laugh again, sending more pins and needles over his skin and tail and begin to swim laps around him, clearly showing off your superior swimming agility. You play with him some more, poking and annoying him but swimming away before he can retaliate and poke you back.

The game catches on from there.

Link is, unfortunately, in over his head and he has to admit proverbial defeat minutes into it. It doesn’t stop him from playing anyway. This is arguably the most free he’s ever seen you and he’s not about to ruin it anymore than his lack of grace does on its own.

It’s nice.

[servicpop]

Could you please do your Oc’s with a bunny hybrid reader, sfw and nsfw headcannons please?

Also could I be 🎧 anon?

thx

Adrien has only ever owned a pet once and that was a dog he had as a little kid. He's never been one for any pet other than a dog ( he's a huge dog person ) so meeting you was a surprise !

SFW : Adrien is super possessive over you , like a guard dog and his little bunny companion ! Everytime someone looks at you weirdly , an arm will wrap around your shoulders and he'll stare down the other person until they look away.

He's really interested in how you would groom yourself ! He would spend hours on his bed , watching you nibble on your long floppy ears to get the knots out — he thinks its the most adorable thing

NSFW: As a bunny your libido would be insanely high , and lucky for you , Adrien's is too !

He won't grab your ears much since he's afraid he'll accidentally bruise them or something so he'll usually get you laying on your back to avoid that urge of grabbing your ears when hitting it from behind . . .

He loves it when you ride him just to see your ears flop around when you bounce on his lap and he can't help but fondle your little tail since he loves the feeling of it wagging in his palm.

Cole lives amongst alot of farm animals so its not a surprise he's so educated on bunnies !

SFW: He helps you clean and takes care of your fur, buying you special brushes and bunny-safe shampoo to use on your ears and tail.

Cole could spend hours brushing your fur , untangling all the knots while you lay your head on his lap , he finds it therapeutic being able to take care of you like this !

He can't stop his fingers from lightly tapping the tip of your nose everytime it twitches , its just too adorable for him he can't stay put !

NSFW: Cole is extremely sensitive so he's already winded the moment you get you go into heat.

Half the time he'll laying on his back , hand over his mouth as he's gripping onto your hips as tight as possible trying to get you to slow down but you just can't !

You practically milk the life out of him and he has to hold you down to get you to stop.

Even though he can't keep up with you , he'll help you ride it out by letting you rut on his thigh. Poor Cole T T

Vallen

SFW: He'll treat you like a lap cat ( he's more of a cat person ) letting you curl up on his legs while he works and strokes your ears in a steady , soothing pace.

He just loves messing with you , lightly teasing you to see your foot thump on the floor rapidly in anger. So he does it as often as he can !

He doesn't understand that you can eat the exact same things as a human can but Vallen always buys fresh carrots in bulk just for you. There's never one day where he doesn't have any carrots lying around for you to munch on.

NSFW: Vallen loves to grab your ears.

He loves to gently tug on them especially when you're giving him a bj , it turns him the hell on when he sees your face when he pulls on them. Hes relatively gently with them though , only holding them lightly enough to encourage you to move your head in the direction he's pulling.

He'll hold your tail captive while he eats you out , watching you arch your back and squirm cuz he's playing with your little cotton ball too much.

Your libido was never a problem for him , he'll just tape a vibrator to your dick and watch you tire yourself out ( sigh old man )

Callahan he's the type to hate hybrids but ends up tangled with one

SFW: Every little action you do , he'll quickly turn around and do a quick search on 'why does my bunny do this' and 'what does my bunny need when. . .' He's always on his phone frantically searching for answers because he's never owned a pet let alone took care of a hybrid ! he doesn't know what to do !

He'll act mortified everytime you present yourself to him for pets , Callahan would just turn away and scold you for even asking him for such a thing ! But then a few minutes after he doesn't even notice but he's running his fingers so delicately across the soft fur of your ears.

NSFW: Just like Vallen he's an ear grabber.

He's much harsher, bunching your ears together in one hand as he's thrusting into you. It's like he's tugging on a leash with the way he's pulling your ears while fucking you into the mattress.

Callahan is super into breeding you — even though you're a male bunny — he's putting you in a mating press and muttering on about how he'd love to see his kids have cute noses like yours or have soft ears like yours.

He's shooting loads into you and grips your ears hard enough to bruise — which he googles again what treatments bunnies need for bruises the next morning since he feels guilty.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 5 - Together or Apart| ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.7k

Since Trent had texted, casually inviting you over to watch a film, you’d been an absolute mess. You stood in front of your closet, staring at your options—were jeans too dressed up? That felt ridiculous to say but then again so often you found yourself in leggings or joggers around him. Your brain hurt from how many different thoughts were swirling in your head. Was this just an organized booty call, an easy fuck for him? Was this a date or were you just two people picking up right where you left off? Your mind spun, nerves flipping from excitement to anxiety. You finally settled on something comfortable with a little bit of a fitter top, trying to preserve the image you and Layla had so perfectly crafted. You wanted to find that balance between effortless and intentional so you wore a pair of cargo pants, easy but comfortable, a white tank top, and a pair of trainers Trent had complimented before.  

He told you he’d pick you up tonight at your house. It made you start to question even further what tonight meant. Was that a good thing or a bad thing… Him coming to pick you up was sweet but was it on purpose so there would be no trace of your car at his house? So when the time came and he told you he was out front, you hesitated. He offered to come up to the front door but somehow that felt like too much. Jack wasn’t home, but it still felt almost disrespectful for Trent to come up, to let him walk in knowing very well what could happen if he did. And then you remembered there were the security cameras. The last thing you needed was any suspicious footage. So, you slipped on your trainers and grabbed your bag and headed out. When you got into his car, you barely made it past the seatbelt click before the tension overwhelmed you both. The air felt thick, and before you knew it, you were leaning over the center console, fingers gripping onto his hair as his mouth met yours. His hands almost coaxing you to come sit on his lap, squeezing your thighs. It was intense, desperate, like you’d been holding back for far too long. Just as your hands moved their way down to the soft fabric of his shirt, headlights from a passing car in the neighborhood flooded the interior, snapping you back to reality. You pulled back suddenly, catching your breath, cheeks flushed.

“Okay, T…” You mumbled out of breath before Trent tried to pull you back in for more. “Okay…” You giggled. “Alright. We need to chill out,” you muttered, half laughing, half embarrassed at the lack of control. You shook your head, trying to gather yourself, but Trent just smirked, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Yeah, relax. Practice some self-control,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You shot him a look, ready to protest, but he was already moving, turning on the engine of the car with one hand while the other reached for you, pulling you close again as he pressed a kiss to your temple. His voice dropped, barely a whisper. “You’re so easy to wind up. Gotta relax, pretty girl.” The warmth of his words, his teasing tone, it melted whatever composure you had left. Trent’s hand lingered on your leg as he drove, his thumb tracing circles, setting off tiny shocks that pulsed up your spine.

“I’m not much of a cook, so I ordered takeaway.” Trent told you once inside his house, you’d been at plenty of times before but right now it felt entirely new. He pulled up the order on his phone, tracking its progress as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a casual smirk. You nodded as you admired at just how unfairly pretty he seemed to look in any light; it never mattered how harsh or how soft; the kitchen’s overhead lighting proving to be no different. 

“It’s fine with me because I know you’re not much of a cook.” You teased as you folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. Trent rolled his eyes making you smile. “But can you even have this right now? You’re in season… Don’t they watch what you eat?” You asked him knowing his takeaway of choice was a Chinese.  Trent let out a low laugh, shrugging.

 “Yeah, technically. Call it a cheat day.  Just don’t tell the gaffer,” he teased, reaching out his pinky to you in a playful promise.

“A pinky promise?” you asked, arching an eyebrow as you hooked your pinky with his. But he held onto it, glancing down as he pressed a kiss to his own hand. His eyes lifted to meet yours with a mischievous gleam. 

“Yeah, a pinky promise is binding. Now, you’ve gotta kiss it too.” He told you. You hesitated, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. There was a soft challenge in his gaze, and the air between you went quiet. With a shy smile, you leaned in, brushing your lips over your own hand, barely touching but letting the tension linger. “That’s better.” His voice was soft, but a trace of amusement edged it. Then he smiled, looking down as if he was seeing you for the first time, something genuine and unguarded in his face. “Y’know, if you really want it to count, you gotta seal it with a proper kiss.” He cooed as he pulled you into his arms, a gentle but firm embrace that made you feel safe and somehow, more nervous all at once. He noticed. He could always read you like a book and right now it was no different. “What’s got you acting so shy?” he asked, chuckling as you hid your face against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, calming, but you still couldn’t shake the self-consciousness creeping over you.

“Stop,” you murmured, laughing against his shirt. “You’re making me nervous.” He tilted your chin up, thumb brushing over your cheek. 

“Why would I make you nervous, pretty girl?” he teased, his eyes dancing as they searched yours. “Only me.” He reminded you gently but it was just that… it was ‘only Trent.’ You and him alone. 

“It’s just… I don’t know,” you stammered, smiling at your own inability to explain.

“Y'know... We’ve already kissed tonight.” He reminded you with a smug smirk. 

“Yeah, but no… it’s–” You couldn’t formulate any valid reason. This was Trent. The Trent you knew so well, you knew so well that you knew he shouldn’t be having a Chinese tonight but also the one you knew so well you’d never want to eat his cooking either. And then the doorbell rang, saving you from digging any deeper into the feelings swirling inside you.

“Well” Trent said as he released you. “When you’re ready… whenever you want…you come kiss me.” He winked, sending you one last smile before heading to the door. When he returned with the food, he set out each container on the kitchen island, opening them one by one. He lifted the lid off a familiar dish, and you noticed instantaneously it was your favorite. Your heart skipped a beat, touched that he’d remembered something so small.

“You… you got my favorite?” you asked softly with a slight giggle, the question more to yourself. He looked up, catching the surprise in your eyes. You felt a bit guilty for acting so weird earlier because just as well as you knew him… he knew you. You’d almost forgotten that amongst your nerves. 

“Yeah,” he said, simply, like it was obvious. “I know what you like.” Something shifted in the air between you both, something that felt as heavy as it did easy. He went back to unboxing the food, his focus turning to unwrapping the utensils, but you couldn’t resist the urge to move closer to him. Coming around the island, you slid your arms around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder. He stilled for a moment, then softened into your touch, a quiet smile crossing his face. You giggled softly, feeling playful and carefree as you wrapped your arms around Trent's waist from behind. His warm, muscular body felt incredible against yours, as you began kissing his neck, leaving a trail of soft pecks and nibbles. Trent's reaction was immediate. He turned to face you swiftly, his hands grasping your waist and pulling you tightly against him. Your bodies collided, igniting a spark of electricity that sent shivers down your spine.

“Hey,” you murmured to grab his attention, gently tilting his face to meet yours, leaning in for a slow, tender kiss. This time, you let yourself linger, let your hands trail up to cup his face as he pulled you closer. You could feel his breath against your lips as he kissed you back, slower this time, savoring the moment. His hand slipped to the small of your back, holding you close. He whispered something soft against your lips, a quiet promise that you could feel even if you couldn’t hear it. You kissed him again slow… steady and sexy. 

“Wow…” He whispered with a pause. “Baby, I didn’t know you were gonna kiss me like that.” He smiled, unable to pull away too far from your lips.

“Should we eat now?” You asked with a teasing smirk, your lips ghosting over his, not really meaning your suggestion. 

“Nah, Shhh… Kiss me again, just like that.” He whispered, pulling you in again. Your lips meeting. The food, forgotten for the moment. His hand drifted up, brushing over your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear as he looked at you with a warmth that made you feel like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. His fingers traced your jaw, lingering at your chin.  The scent of spices and fried rice filled the room, but neither of you seemed interested in food anymore. Your bodies were hungry for something else entirely.

"See… I told you I know what you like." Trent whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roamed freely over your body, exploring your curves and driving you wild with desire.

"Maybe." you teased as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he placed you to the kitchen counter. The cold marble surface felt refreshing against your skin as he set you down, keeping you close to him, your boobs pressing against his hard chest as he held you close.

"I know you like being dirty for me, huh?" He mocking asked you before his lips claimed yours in a hungry kiss, your hands found their way under his shirt, eager to feel the smooth, defined muscles of his back. You pulled his shirt up, breaking the kiss momentarily to help him get it over his head. The sight of Trent's toned, tanned torso made your mouth water. He was a work of art, and you couldn't wait to explore every inch of him.His hands worked quickly, unhooking your bra with skilled fingers, freeing your full, perky tits, he’d told you he loved. He bent his head, taking a taut nipple into his mouth, and sucking gently, causing you to gasp and arch your back. His tongue teased and flicked, sending waves of pleasure through your body. With his free hand, he cupped your other boob, thumb rubbing the sensitive peak, making you moan softly. "You like when I play with you, don't you?" Trent murmured against your skin, his voice deep and husky. His hands moved downward, sliding off your trousers, revealing more of you. You lifted your hips to help him, eager for his touch. His fingers found the damp fabric of your panties, and he gently traced the outline of your pussy, making you squirm with anticipation. "That’s right, innit? He asked again and you whimpered

"Please, Trent," you whined, your voice hoarse with need. "I want you." Trent chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through you. 

"Oh, I know you do, baby. And I want you too. I’m fucking starving." He smirked moving a container of food that was a little too close to you both. He was hungry for anything but that right now. With that, he slid his fingers under the lace of your panties, finding your wetness and dipping a finger inside. You were already so aroused, and his touch sending you over the edge. You moaned loudly, your head falling back as your body surrendered to the pleasure.

“Baby. that’s…fuck..that’s so good.” Your squeezed your eyes shut tightly feeling a pleasure only Trent had ever given you course through your body. His cock twitched at your breathy moans and whimpers. He tugged at your lower lip with his teeth as he worked his magic, his fingers moving in and out, adding a second finger to stretch and fill you. When he dipped another finger into your wet heat, he pulled another deep moan from you and in an attempt to push you closer to the edge, he curled his fingers even further against that one spot and pressed his thumb against your clit harder. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter, your knuckles turning shades lighter as you rode his hand, seeking release. “Please keep going, T, I’m so close, I’m-fuck.” You whined his name, juices dripping down your legs and his hand, tears forming on your lash lines from the stimulation. 

"That's it. Good girl." Trent encouraged, his breath hot on your neck as he nibbled on your sensitive skin. “Fuck yourself on my fingers.” He commanded. You couldn’t stop yourself. He curled them further inside, finding your g spot fast, refusing to let up. You rode his fingers, your moans only getting louder as the harsh circles around your clit intensified. You let out a soft cry as you rocked your hips onto his hand.  "Cum for me, let me feel you." His words pushed you further, and with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers, you climaxed. Your body shook, and a wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and boneless. Trent held you gently, his fingers still inside you, as the aftershocks rippled through your body. Carefully and gently he lifted you off the counter, his strong arms making you feel weightless. You giggled, slightly delicious from your high,  but feeling playful and free as he carried you to the living room, your legs dangling, brushing against his hard thighs.  He laid you gently on to the couch, handling you delicately but his eyes burning with desire as he gazed down at you. You reached up for him, wanting to feel his naked skin against yours. Trent obliged, quickly shedding his clothes, revealing his chiseled physique. Your eyes traced the lines of his body, lingering on his thick, erect cock, standing proudly between his legs.

"I want you inside me, T," you whispered, your voice laced with longing. He climbed on to the massive sofa, his body covering yours, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. 

"You want it bad, huh, baby?" he teased, his lips brushing against yours.  You nodded, your eyes pleading. Trent's lips claimed yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he ground his hips against you, his cock rubbing against your wetness, teasing you. You whimpered, desperate for him to fill you.

"Please, baby, " you begged, your breath coming in short gasps. "Fuck me. Please I promise I’ll be a good girl again for you, T." You whined. Trent smirked not mockingly, just almost euphoric like he couldn’t believe that his dream of having you beg for his cock was happening in real time. And so, Trent happily obliged, positioning himself at your entrance. With one smooth thrust, he slid deep inside you, filling you completely. You cried out, your body adjusting to his size, embracing the stretch and fullness. When you gave him the go ahead, he began to move, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with a pace that had you crying out with each stroke. 

"Yeah, that's it, take my cock." he grunted, his voice rough with desire.The sounds were pornographic. “There she is. Such a good girl. You love my cock, don't you?" He asked you. You lifted your leg up for him to throw it over his shoulder fucking you at a new angle harder, deeper.  

“It’s so fucking good. Fuck! — Fuck you feel so big.” You babbled lost in the throes of pleasure. Trent fucked you with a primal intensity, his hands gripping your hips rasing them slightly, leaving marks on your skin. He was fucking you stupid, your mind had gone completely blank, your vision blurred. After you changed the angle, lifting one of your legs, it caused you to bite down harshly on his shoulder. He moaned in pleasurable pain. His whole length repeatedly hitting your g spot, sending you both into a blissful haze. He was leant forward, his mouth finding your nipple, sucking and biting gently as he thrust, creating a symphony of sensations that drove you wild.

"You're squeezing me so tight, baby," he groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Want me to make you cum again, pretty girl?" He asked but all you could do was nod desperately, your chest heaving.  He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. The combination of his cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers was too much to bear. You arched your back, offering yourself to him, your body ready to explode.

"Yeah– shit! T, right there!" you cried out, your voice high and desperate. He increased the pace, his fingers working in sync with his thrusts. You climaxed with a force that surprised even yourself, your body trembling and legs shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. 

“Fuck, you’re my good girl, baby.” He hummed, his breathing getting heavier by the second. His cock was soaked in your slick as he rolled his hips roughly into you.  “Fuck!” He cried out. “Baby I gotta cum.” He was at his limit desperate to release. You could only nod again Your own high still continuing to roll on. His harsh movements came to a halt as he buried himself deeper inside you. “Ah Shit.” Trent grunted, his body stiffening as he came, filling you with his warmth, his throbbing cock pulsing inside you. Pumping you full with his cum while pressing his lips to yours. You both laid into each other's sweaty bodies, foreheads resting on the other.  Gasping for breath, you clung to each other, your hearts racing. Trent gently kissed your neck, his hands stroking your skin, providing comfort and reassurance. You reveled in the intimacy of the moment, feeling utterly satisfied and exhausted. “You okay, baby?” He whispered. You could only hum, your face hidden in the crook of his neck. You kissed at his skin lazily. “You sure? Was I too rough?” Trent nervously and quietly asked. Trent didn’t want to hurt you. He had protected you for years. The thing was now… things were different. Really different. If Trent was ever rough with girls before in bed he usually didn’t care too much but he had always taken care of you and it only amplified now.  Obviously it would never be the goal to hurt someone but with sex like that, rough sex like that… with you... he needed to make sure you were okay.

“I’m okay, T. Just tied from all that.” You giggled sleepily, your voice barely audible. You gave him a soft smile, tucking your head back against his shoulder as you nuzzled into him. You could feel him smile as he held you closer. The two of you laid there, wrapped in each other, forgetting everything else just for the moment. But once you realized almost over an hour had passed since the food arrived, though neither of you had paid much attention to it, you definitely were hungry now post workout… or well… post sex. Trent got up, making sure you were okay, cleaned up and all set on the sofa as he popped off back to the kitchen to reheat the food and bring it back for you two to finally eat. Now sprawled comfortably on the couch, a mess of takeout containers scattered around, both of you too wrapped up in each other to worry about making it neat. Wrapped only in blankets, clothes long forgotten, and each other, there was something thrillingly raw and uninhibited about the whole scene.

You watched on as Trent struggled with his chopsticks, holding them awkwardly and missing the noodles each time. 

“You’ve been shit at that for years. Literally zero improvement.” You held out a fork for him with a grin. You couldn’t help but laugh, playfully teasing him. But he shook his head stubbornly. 

“Nah, nah, I’m not that bad. These noodles are just slippery, and—” he rambled, an adorable frustration flashing across his face. He pouted a little, and you chuckled, leaning in to kiss him, wiping away his frown. 

“It’s cute, you know,” you said, running your hand over his thigh. The bashful way he looked down, as if trying to hide his little smile, only made him more endearing. He looked back up at you, his eyes twinkling with a smirk. Trent loved to be praised even if it was just for simply existing. And he was as cute as you said; his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes staring back at you pretending he didn’t know he was. Until his cheeky charm came roaring back. 

“Yeah, well, I’m cute what can I say; it’s a redeeming quality of mine. You’re almost as cute as me… depends on the day,” he shot back with a wink, his grin widening. You laughed, your heart flipping at his boyish charm. The way he blended playfulness with this gentle confidence was one of the things you loved most. Sitting there, eating together, feeling this giddy warmth bloom between you, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so effortlessly at ease. The two of you lounged together, tangled up in the cozy mess of blankets and takeout containers, laughing at the smallest things. It was pure, unguarded comfort, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d longed for this feeling until now—just being with someone, laughing until it hurt, without any pretense. Trent’s chopsticks continued to wobble in his hand as he tried again, narrowing his eyes in concentration. He was treating it like a personal challenge, refusing to let some noodles get the best of him, his brow furrowed like he was plotting out strategy. You stifled another laugh, and he caught it, glancing up with a mock-offended look. “Aye! I’m not that bad!” he protested, dropping the chopsticks with a defeated sigh and reaching for a fork instead. You snickered, resting your head on his shoulder as you passed him the fork with a knowing look.

“Maybe I’m just better with the chopsticks,” you teased. He let out an exaggerated scoff, rolling his eyes. 

“Better at what? Eating?  Doubtful,” he said, leaning over to nudge you. But there was a softness to his gaze, an unspoken admiration as he looked down at you. “Even if you are better at some things,” he added, trailing off, his voice dropping to a murmur. You tried not to look surprised but you weren’t sure you’d ever heard Trent actually concede, not even halfway like that. “I’m better at a few things, too.” He added in true Trent fashion. 

“Oh, yeah? Name one,” you challenged, grinning as you tilted your head up at him. You knew just how to get Trent to bite. With a playful smirk, he leaned closer until his face was just inches from yours. 

“This,” he whispered, before his lips captured yours in a deep, slow kiss that made you melt. It wasn’t rushed or hungry; it was patient and full of warmth, as if he had all the time in the world to savor you. When he pulled back, his eyes scanned over your face as if to commit every detail to memory. There was an unmistakable pride there, like he knew the effect he had on you. “See?” he said softly, still holding your gaze. “Told you I’m better at some things.” You blushed, laughing as you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Alright, alright. You’re a good kisser but don’t act like I’m bad or something.” You giggled, laying your head on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Nah, course not. You’re world class as well, baby.” He cooed gently, kissing your forehead.  For a while, you both just sat in silence, content. He absentmindedly played with your hair, occasionally twirling a strand around his finger. At one point, you looked up, catching him staring at you again, his expression soft, as though he were seeing you for the first time. 

“What?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. He shook his head, his fingers grazing your cheek as he spoke.

 “Nothing. Just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” He smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Like… relaxed,” You raised your brow trying not to be offended. He laughed lightly. “Nah, hold on…” He could sense your offense. “ I meant you just seem calm right now. Just before…even with me, it always had to be rushed, it always had to be sneaky and right now… you just look happy.” He said, his voice full of a warmth that melted right into you. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smiling gently. “I like it. A lot.”

“Are you trying to say you make me happy?” You questioned a little mockingly. He hummed with assurance. You felt your heart flutter, something in his eyes settling deep within you. “Well, you’re right…You do. And I hope I do that for you too… at least a little bit,” you whispered back, a soft smile spreading across your face as you nestled closer to him.

“Yeah, pretty girl. A lot of bit.” he cooed, leaning to peck the tip of your nose. “You always have but this… this right here is better than ever before.” He softly whispered. In that moment, everything else faded—the worries, the risks, even the questions of what you both were doing or where this would go. For now, this was enough. Just you, him, and the quiet intimacy that filled the room. You sat there for a long while rattling between eating, kissing, and watching TV. “We should do this more “Trent said as he moved on the couch putting his food down. 

“T, we eat dinner and watch films like every other week” you smiled. You did. You ate dinner probably once a week together except… well, Jack was also there. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He feigned annoyance pulling you into him.  “But nah, I don't mean those nights because I rarely get to have my hands on you like this. Hmm?” He clarified. 

“Yeah,” you sighed at the reality but also agreeing, loving the current warmth of him. 

“Yeah? And you like when my hands are on you, right?” He cooed and you hummed. “I know just what you like, baby.” He leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours, and you felt the familiar flutter in your chest, the way just his presence seemed to pull you in. He could feel the way your body melted. "See?" he whispered, his voice laced with that playful edge. "I know exactly what you like." You giggled, trying to play it off, but there was no denying how much you did like this, how every small touch felt electric. 

"Confident, aren't we?" you teased, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. He grinned, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your lower back. 

"Yeah. You love it when I'm like this," he smirked, leaning back, but pulling you down with him until you were nestled against him on the couch, his hands holding you close. You hummed because it wasn’t when he was like ‘this.’ ‘This’ was just Trent. Confident and cheeky. And getting to have this Trent all to yourself with no prying eyes was a dream. You couldn't help but smile, feeling his warmth and the gentle way he was looking at you, the humor gone from his expression, replaced with something softer, something that felt more than just casual. You bit your lip, unable to hold his gaze for too long, and he just chuckled, tilting your chin up so you'd meet his eyes again. "I meant it," he said, his voice low and earnest. "We really should do this more." There was a pause, and in that brief silence, you felt the weight of what he was saying. It wasn't just about tonight, or even the past few times you'd been together. It was about something more, something you hadn't really let yourself think about until now.

"Maybe we could," you said softly, feeling your face warm as you looked down, only to feel his fingers tilting your chin back up, his eyes softening as he watched you.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his hand slipping up to cradle the back of your neck. "Then maybe it's not just up to me, is it?" He smirked. And with that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss that seemed to say all the things you both were afraid to.

After clearing up the remnants of your Chinese takeaway, you stood in the kitchen, stacking the last of the plates in the dishwasher. Trent followed closely behind, observing you with a smirk on his lips. His gaze was warm, his eyes dancing with a familiar playfulness that always made your heart flutter.

“Wow,” he teased, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and a mischievous look in his eyes. “Look at you. Really are wifey, innit?” You glanced over your shoulder at him, rolling your eyes at his comment.

“Oh, shut up,” you retorted, but the smile tugging at your lips gave away your amusement. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the playful compliment, even if you tried to act unbothered. Trent didn’t let up, stepping forward with that grin still plastered on his face. 

“Nah, I mean it,” he said, his voice softening slightly as he drew closer. “I’ve always known you’re good with all this stuff. The little things. The considerate things. Things other people overlook.”  You felt a warmth spread through you at his sincerity, and you turned to face him fully, drying your hands on a towel, leaning your back against the island across from him as you looked up at him.

“Yeah?” you asked, tilting your head, a playful lilt in your voice. Trent’s expression softened further, the humor still present but tinged with something more tender. “You’ve clearly never lived with Jack and my dad.” You cooed, reminding him that this consideration was more survival and necessity than anything else. Trent sympathetically smiled realizing there was something much deeper behind why you took care of things the way you did. 

“Nah.Y/N, look. I'm not talking about that. I mean I am but I'm not. I don’t want to talk about... them guys,” he continued, referring to past relationships,  his voice growing serious for a moment, “because they don’t deserve the breath, but all those other lads? They were fucking idiots for losing a girl like you.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but tease him, trying to keep the moment light even though his sincerity made your chest ache. All of it, the hurt of your past and how easily he seemed to salve it. 

“Oh, really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “And why exactly is that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.  “Because I’m so great at, what, doing the dishes?” You teased. Trent sighed but then let out a deep chuckle realizing maybe this wasn't the time for his serious compliment. And so his laughter echoing the kitchen making you smile. 

“Nah,” he said, stepping even closer and reaching out to pull you by the waist. You squirmed as he picked you up, dragging you back to the living room, only your combined laughter filling the space momentarily. He tugged you down onto the couch with him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight and pressing a flurry of silly, cheeky kisses all over your face, making you giggle more. “No, baby,” he murmured between kisses, “because you’re kind, and thoughtful, and beautiful, and even with your flaws, you’re still perfect.” he listed, his hands sliding up your sides, pulling your top up with them as he spoke. You pulled back just slightly, eyeing him with suspicion. 

“Flaws?” you questioned, your tone light with mock offense. He giggled, a true cheeky Trent giggle as he picked up the TV remote from the armrest beside him. “Excuse me?” You leaned into his touch, a teasing smile spreading across your face. He smiled deviously, taking the opportunity to snake one of his arms around you completely and pull you tightly into him, his other hand navigating what was on the telly.

“Yeah,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “Like, for one, you’re not very good at watching films. You talk a lot during them. You yap more than me and that says a lot.” He smirked cheekily. You gasped, playfully shoving him away but not really going anywhere because his arm stayed wrapped around you

“Oh, okay. Really? I see,” you said, leaning into the banter. “Seems like you watch a lot of films with someone you think is bad to watch with.” You fired back, your voice full of mock indignation. Trent’s eyes softened, and he smiled, leaning in to kiss your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment.

“Nah, nah, nah,” he laughed, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes crinkling at the corners from how wide his smile had become. “I said you’re bad at watching them. But you’re the best to watch with. My favorite to watch with, actually.” He corrected softly, his voice a murmur as he brushed his nose against yours before pulling you into a comfortable cuddle. You felt your heart skip at his words, and you nuzzled closer, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you, your hands moving to rest on his chest. 

“Well, I guess that makes it okay, then,” you whispered, a smile spreading across your face as you settled into him, feeling perfectly content. “You’re really good at this whole sweet-talking thing, aren’t you?” you whispered, your voice teasing but your eyes full of affection. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing your temple again before pressing a kiss there, lingering for a moment.

“I’m not sweet-talking, pretty girl” he murmured against your skin. “I mean it… You don’t shut up….” Your jaw slacked. “ And I love it.” He told you, shutting your mouth closed with his hand and kissing your lips. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms in the warmth of the room. You nestled your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong. He kissed the top of your head, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the feeling. “Alright,” he announced, his voice full of playful determination. “Movie time.”

“A movie? Really? After you just insulted my film-watching abilities?” You raised an eyebrow, laughing. He grinned. 

“Exactly,” he said, pulling you down beside him. “I invited you over for a film and I was thinking.... maybe I can keep your lips busy.” He cheekily cooed with a wink. The innuendo had your mind racing, your heart pumping and your pussy pulsing.  

“Maybe we should find the list of the top 100 most boring movies.” You suggested. Suddenly you could feel the tides turning again. The sexual tension in the room rising fast.

“Why?” Trent naively asked almost instinctively forgetting the direction he was just forging but then quickly remembered what you were insinuating. He laughed at himself. His desire for you very quickly out ranking that for any movie.

“I mean, maybe that’s why I’m no good at this whole watching films thing. I think I just love a movie that can't hold my attention… besides, usually someone else has it.” You smirked. Your hand moving to run over his thigh, moving higher and higher up. 

“Fair, baby. Because we’ve watched some classics together and I barely remember a thing. Got me more locked in on you.” He cooed, the warmth of your subtle compliment lingering. You giggled nuzzling into his neck, your lips nibbling on his skin, your hand inching higher.

“Guess I should be flattered then, huh? Competing with the classics is no small feat,” you teased, but inside, you felt the excitement, horniness and a hint of vulnerability. He pulled your face off his neck and  brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft. 

“You’re much better than any movie.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, his thumb grazing your cheek. “...Honest.” You swallowed, taken off guard by how sincere he sounded. The easy sexy  banter had faded momentarily, leaving something quiet, something that felt new and serious. 

“Trent,” you whispered, your voice catching slightly.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” he asked, smiling as he tried to read your expression, a hint of nervousness flashing in his eyes. You shifted, heart racing as you tried to find the right words. 

“I just… I like….” You paused , almost afraid to look at him, trying to decide how open you should be, how vulnerable you should be or if you should just throw reality to the wind and let your hormones continue taking over. You went with neither. “I like watching movies with you.” You admitted, but it wasn’t really what you wanted to say. When you met his gaze you felt like you saw the same openness you were feeling retreat, just as yours did. He didn’t hesitate though, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you.

“Me too.” He grinned, his tone lightening just enough to make you smile again. “How about we pick a movie that’ll actually let us watch for, like, let’s give ten minutes a go. Tops.” He smirked at you, placing his hand over yours moving it back to palm over his hardening cock.  You laughed, your face falling back into his neck, your lips returning to kiss his skin. 

“Deal,” you whispered, feeling perfectly at home in his arms and perfectly turned on to do a little more than watch a movie.

You sat on the edge of your bed, phone clutched in your hand, staring at the last message you’d sent Trent hours ago. He hadn’t replied, which was fine, you reminded yourself. He had an away game tomorrow, he was busy, and maybe this thing—whatever it was—wasn’t supposed to mean much to him. He’d said things recent enough, especially that night at his house where maybe you thought it did but then again… you tried to remind yourself, he was only a boy at the end of the day, he very well could be just like all the others. You’d been replaying the moments you’d spent together, but maybe, you worried, it had all been just a casual distraction to him. People can pretend for sex, why couldn’t he do the same. The texts and playful emojis were fun, but what if he was just passing the time? Your texting had ramped up a lot especially when he was away. There were a lot of winks, innuendos, emojis but were you simply a way for him to occupy time whilst he was on the road? That maybe it didn’t matter that it was you specifically, but that it very well could just be any girl. You actually had started to feel like an idiot expecting a message tonight. You were about to just feel defeated going to bed without a text from him. You sighed, telling yourself to let it go as you flicked off the lights and crawled into bed, the silence feeling heavier than usual. You closed your eyes, settling into the pillow, just about to drift off when your phone buzzed. The screen lit up, and you glanced at it, expecting a notification—but no, it was a FaceTime call. And it was Trent. Your heart skipped, fumbling to answer as you propped yourself up, pulling your shirt down a bit just for him. 

“Hi,” you said, hoping he didn’t hear the hint of nerves in your voice. Trent’s face filled the screen, his eyes tired but a warm smile spreading across his face. 

“Sorry for the late call. Just thought…  Well, I wanted to see you. You alright, pretty girl?” He cooed. You couldn’t pick up on it but he was as nervous as you were.  His words more jumbled than normal. You bit your lip, surprised but touched by the call.

“I’m… I’m good. Just getting ready for bed. You?” You asked. He nodded, running a hand over his hair, his smile softening. 

“Yeah, about to have a quick shower and get a some sleep too. Long day. Fucking knackered” He paused, his gaze steady on you, and something in his expression made you feel seen. “But I was thinking about you.” His words made your heart race, and you couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto your face. 

“Oh yeah? Or just bored in some random hotel?” You questioned him, a slight crack at the question that had been gnawing at you.  He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Nah, just about you alone. Trust me. Was wondering what you might've been up to without me. ” He leaned a bit closer, as though he wanted to close the distance between you through the screen. “I miss you. More than I thought I could.” Hearing that sent a warmth through you that made all the doubts melt away. 

“I miss you too, T” you admitted softly, feeling a rush of relief that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all in your head. Trent’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. 

“Then maybe when I get back… we don’t do the whole ‘pretend we didn’t’ yeah?” He smirked. You laughed, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you nodded. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that because I really do miss you.” You shook your head feeling both embarrassed by how much you did miss him and silly for the way you felt earlier about him not replying to a simple text when he was saying all this.

“Baby, quick question for you.” He said and you couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your face at the pet name returning. “You have snap right?” He said it so casually that you let out a shocked chuckle. He was talking about snapchat and while you did... you weren't sure you were even friends on it because well... it felt like dangerous territory.

“What…are you sixteen? Like what are you on about?” You laughed at him. You were on Facetime in bed right now. What in god's name did he want to know that for. 

“Nah…” He laughed mildly embarrassed by your call out. Understanding it merited your teasing. “I just meant I’d like it if I could see a little more of you when I don’t have the privacy to call. Y’know?” He explained. A part of you hated this conversation and a part of you loved it. You wanted him to see more of you but you were also a little confused. You’d had a similar conversation before and it resulted in a photo of you sent directly to him. 

“Oh… I mean I can send anything you want just over texts…”  You told him feigning a casualness you didn’t feel. You’d sent a photo to him before so you weren’t sure why he wanted to move the convo elsewhere. It was hard not to overthink it. It felt so suspicious but you weren’t entirely against sending him any more photos to him if it meant you got some in return. But the question ‘why’ was screaming in your head. 

“You understand what I’m actually asking for right, baby?” He chuckled, not at you but because he just felt silly asking this. “I just don’t want you to feel…” He began to explain further but you cut him off. In Trent's mind, he just wanted another access point. His schedule was so busy he liked the idea of being able to have a space for just the spicier things especially considering Jack but you weren't thinking that way and you didn't know that either because you just interrupted him.

“T… I know what you’re asking. I’ll send photos to you.” You smirked mischievously. You were hellbent on getting him to see you as a sexy woman not as a best friend’s little sister so in your opinion this was going to have to be happen, if you wanted to further that.  

“Alright, alright, baby. Send as you please.” He laughed pretty happy with your willingness to send him photos. You just were debating just how revealing they should be though. On Trent’s end, he wanted full nudes, he wanted to see the body he was claiming as his back at home while he was away. To be blunt he wanted to get off to them but just didn’t want you to feel overly exposed sending them through text, logged into your apple ids but there was a disconnect. You were not on the same page apparently even though you thought you were.  After you ended the call you decided to give it a go. You sat up, perching yourself onto your knees, your ass rested back on your heels so you could see your figure in the mirror across from your bed. You were just in your panties and a little tight white t-shirt, no bra. You could see the shape of your tits, your taut stomach exposed as you pulled on your lip with your free hand. And snap. You took a deep breath, looking at the photo you’d just taken. It was intimate, sultry, exactly the kind of picture that would send Trent’s heart racing—or so you hoped. But just as you were about to hit send, a flicker of doubt crept in. Was he only asking for these pictures initially on Snapchat because he didn’t want them saved, was he with or seeing other people he was worried might see them if they were texted. Hence you decided to opt to be partially clothed for this first go around. As close as you felt to him, it was hard not to wonder sometimes if you were just another distraction. He was a guy who could have anyone, and the idea that he could be keeping things casual with you was a thought you couldn’t shake. Yet you didn’t want to question him, not now, when things were finally feeling like they could be real. With a bit of resolve, you hit send anyway, your heart pounding in anticipation. Just as you set your phone down, another thought crept in. Maybe this was all about building trust. Maybe he wanted you to feel in control of whatever you chose to share. Never did the idea of Trent protecting you from Jack ever by chance picking up his phone cross your mind. The whole night replayed in your head—the warmth in his eyes on FaceTime, the way he’d reassured you, and how he’d seemed genuinely interested in closing the distance between you both. Moments later, your phone vibrated, and a message from Trent popped up. It wasn’t just a text back; it was a picture of him in the mirror, his smile a little sleepy, he’d just gotten out of the shower in his hotel room, towel low around his waist, water droplets still on his chest, the soft glint in his eyes unmistakably meant for you.

He teased You let out a small laugh, feeling the doubts ease away. Whatever this was between you both, it was beginning to feel like more than a fleeting fling.And with a quiet goodnight, he left you with a smile and a heart racing for the next time you’d see him in person.

Trent’s travels continued on. One country to the next.  But as he lay sprawled on the hotel bed, his muscles aching from a training session ahead of his match earlier in the evening, the hotel room modern and immaculate, it felt sterile, stripped of any warmth or comfort that reminded him of home. His teammates’ laughter echoed faintly down the hall, probably from someone’s room where the guys had gathered to relax and unwind. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to join them. His thoughts were somewhere else—somewhere warmer and more inviting, somewhere that smelled like your favorite perfume and where laughter felt more genuine. He had learned over time how to manage the loneliness of travel. Football had always demanded sacrifices, and he’d made peace with them. But now, with you, the loneliness felt different, more acute. Before, he never thought twice about how many nights he spent in hotel rooms, but now, every night away felt like a night stolen from you. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the unease that had settled in his chest, and then grabbed his phone again, the screen lighting up with notifications. None were from you, which he realized he’d been hoping for.

He rolled onto his side, staring at a picture of you he’d taken ages ago, one you probably didn't even know existed. You were laughing in it, your head thrown back, organically beautiful, eyes lit up with mischief. It was one of those candid shots that perfectly captured your spirit, and he found himself smiling, feeling an ache at the thought of not being able to hear that laugh right now. His thumb hovered over your name in his messages, and he opened your last conversation, reading over your words, feeling closer to you through the little emojis and teasing exchanges. He didn’t want to seem needy or like he was fishing for your attention, but the urge to reach out was overwhelming. He started typing a text, deleting it twice before settling on something simple; ‘Thinking about you. Hope you’re doing okay. Miss you.’ He almost sent it but stopped himself, taking a moment to let out a heavy sigh. It felt unfair to burden you with how much he missed you when he couldn’t be there. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you felt the same, but he knew how unfair this situation could be. You deserved better than waiting for stolen moments or living with the anxiety that came from constantly hiding what you were from everyone else, hiding what you might be from Jack. He put the phone down, leaning back on the pillow, and tried to shake the self-doubt creeping in. Were you getting tired of this? Of him being gone? Of him not really being yours? He couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t want to see you, where he didn’t crave your company. It wasn’t lost on him that football had pulled him away from so much over the years, but this was the first time he genuinely worried about it taking something he desperately wanted to keep. You were putting so much at risk for him with Jack and it all started to feel more wrong than ever. 

Even during his limited downtime, his mind would drift to you: your laugh, the way you’d tease him, the gentle comfort of your presence. And now, knowing that the busiest stretch of his season was right around the corner, the thought of being even more unavailable left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to make you feel special, to let you know he was thinking about you in a way that wasn’t about flashy gifts or hurried, late-night hookups. No, he wanted you to understand that he cared deeply, beyond the physical or superficial. He propped himself up on one elbow, the crisp hotel sheets rustling beneath him, and grabbed his phone once more, his mind racing with possibilities. As he opened his notes app, he began to brainstorm. He knew he couldn’t make grand, public gestures without risking exposure, and he didn’t want to just throw money at a problem that required a more thoughtful touch. He started typing ideas, his mind focusing on the small things, the meaningful things. The list in his notes app glared back at him. He glanced over the suggestions, his heart softening. Even with all his fame and money, he was nervous about something so simple as making you feel loved. How did you make him feel like a nervous schoolboy again, chasing after someone he wanted so badly to impress? He felt almost ridiculous trying to impress his best mate's little sister but you were much more than that. He chuckled softly to himself, a mix of embarrassment and adoration flooding him.

He tried to envision the letter he’d write if he went with that idea, picturing himself scribbling down every reason he liked you, every little thing that made him smile. Maybe he’d tuck it into your favorite book, so you’d stumble upon it by surprise. Or he imagined what the picnic could be like, bundling you both up in warm clothes and spreading out a feast of all your favorite comfort foods, just to hear you laugh about how out of season it was. And that thought—that image of you laughing, cheeks flushed from the cold but warm in his embrace—was enough to make him pick up his phone again.He didn’t know how he’d make it happen, but he’d figure it out. Because that’s what you did when you cared about someone: you made the effort, even when it felt impossible. Trent took a deep breath, feeling a bit more settled. He pressed send on his message before he could second-guess himself again and set his phone aside. His chest still ached, but he let himself imagine the look on your face when you finally received whatever small, meaningful gesture he’d dream up. Even if he couldn’t be there physically, he wanted you to feel his presence, to know that, no matter the distance, you were always on his mind. And as he lay there, the room still feeling cold and empty, his heart felt a little warmer, filled with a quiet resolve.

Trent was right, you did feel like his schedule was always busy. It was hard for you to understand lately. Before, as your brother's best friend it never really affected you but now… you found yourself missing him. And while you did, every time you wanted to tell him just that... you'd chicken out. You’d be lying if you said your heart hadn’t leapt when you received another text from him once you knew he was back home. It had been days since you’d last seen him, and even though you told yourself you were getting used to the rhythm of his busy life, the truth was you missed him—maybe more than you wanted to admit. The message was short, casual, but it made your palms sweat with anticipation but also your brow furrow with confusion.

Of course you agreed but the vagueness made you nervous. And in addition to those words, you didn't like to drive all that much. It just gave you a bit of anxiety but you'd do it to see him. When you pulled up in front of his house, the evening sky was tinged with hues of orange and deep purple, the last rays of sun casting shadows across the quiet street. Trent stepped out and your chest tightened at the sight of him. He looked tired but happy, his smile lighting up his face as he walked over to the passenger side of your car. He climbed in and immediately shot you a teasing look. 

“Wow,” he said, running his hand over the dashboard, “Pretty girl, pretty whip. Look at you. Who knew you had such good taste in cars.” There was a playful glint in his eye, and you couldn’t help but smile. You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes at his antics. 

“Okay, okay, I’ve said thank you a million times,” you replied, feigning exasperation. “Do you want me to say it again?” He laughed, leaning back into the seat of the Mercedes he had once gifted you for your birthday.

“Nah, I’m just giving you a hard time. It’s good seeing you behind the wheel, though. Rarely see you even drive. Was beginning to think you didn’t like it.” He smirked.

“I do! You know I just get nervous driving.” You pouted a little feeling anxious about actually driving.  

“That’s why I got you a safe car though, baby. You’re all good. Promise.” He cooed gently, leaning over and kissing your temple, feeling the familiar warmth spreading through you from his presence alone. His words reassuring. The air between you grew heavier for a split second, the implication of his words making your stomach flutter. But you quickly brushed it off, gripping the wheel a little tighter to steady yourself. You couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you pulled out of his driveway.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to sound casual but genuinely curious. “Why did you need me to drive?” Trent adjusted his hoodie, looking out the window as if gathering his thoughts. 

“I wanted to go somewhere,” he said, turning to face you. “Somewhere a bit more low-key. Didn’t want to attract too much attention, you know?” You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued.

 “Somewhere, huh? You’re pretty mysterious.” You cheekily teased.  He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Nah, shush. You’ll see,” he promised, the hint of a secret in his voice. “Just trust me.” And so you drove on, the city passing by, the quiet hum of the car adding to the suspense. Trent didn’t give anything away, and that made you all the more eager to find out what he had in store. But deep down, just being near him, feeling the warmth of his presence after days apart, felt like more than enough. Trent had typed the address into your car’s navigation system, and as the map adjusted, you tried to steal a peek, your curiosity piqued. He shot you a mischievous grin, blocking your view with his hand. “Aye! No peeking,” he said, his tone playful. You rolled your eyes, fixing them back on the road, but a smile pulled at your lips despite the frustration you felt, knowing he always enjoyed these little games. When you finally pulled up to the park, you recognized it instantly: the worn-out playground, the rustling trees that framed the walking path, and the faint creak of the swings swaying in the wind. It was a place that had remained unchanged since your childhood, close to where you’d both grown up but far enough away from where you now lived that it felt like a retreat. You turned off the car and glanced over at Trent, your eyebrows raised.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, laughter bubbling in your voice. He opened the door, climbed out, and then made his way around to your side, pulling his hoodie up over his head in that way he always did when he wanted to go unnoticed. The sight was endearing but also a reminder of the reality you shared: the life he led, so scrutinized and public, and the need to keep parts of it hidden, you hidden. He pulled your door open and extended his hand to you.

“C’mon,” he urged gently. “Just wanted to spend some time with you.” You took his hand, stepping out of the car and feeling the cool, crisp autumn air kiss your skin. "Just you and me." The sky was a watercolor mix of oranges and purples, the sun dipping below the horizon and painting everything in a soft, fading glow. You slipped your hand out of his to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth, but Trent’s hand found your lower back, guiding you gently down the familiar path. As you walked, you both fell into an easy conversation about anything and everything: memories from your childhood, funny stories about people you both knew, and even complaints about the weather turning colder. But underneath it all, there was a tension you couldn’t shake. “Been missing you... I actually was trying to remember the first time I like properly caught some feelings for ya. pretty sure it was here,” he said, his voice quiet. His admission lingered in the air, heavy and sincere.

"I don't believe that." You smiled, not sure Trent even looked your way until your tits were out on a holiday. You were trying to stay guarded but he was making it hard. You felt your heart skip at his words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully relax into the moment.

"You should. Made me just miss being... us." He sheepishly said the word uniting you two as a pair. You knew how much you missed him too, but there was something else—a weight that was harder to put into words.

“Hmm,” you murmured noncommittally, your eyes trained on the path ahead. Trent stopped walking, his fingers brushing against your elbow to turn you toward him. You glanced up, your gaze meeting his, and his expression was a mix of worry and confusion.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reading the unease in your eyes. He was searching for an answer, something to make sense of the way you were holding back. You let out a sigh, your breath visible in the cold air. 

“It’s not that something’s wrong,” you started, your voice trailing off. “I just… sometimes I feel like…” You struggled to find the words. How could you express the hurt of feeling like a secret, like this hidden part of his life he only got to enjoy behind closed doors? Trent’s jaw tensed slightly, his hands dropping to his sides as he watched you, his own heart sinking. He seemed to understand, even if it was painful to hear. 

“I know it’s not fair,” he admitted, running a hand over his hair beneath the hoodie. “But you make me feel grounded, Y/N. You make me feel like… me. And I just wanted some time. to feel like Trent, not all the shit that goes on during the week.” You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, nodding because you did understand. It just didn’t make the ache any less.

“I get it,” you whispered. And you did, you really did, but the understanding didn’t erase the feeling of being kept in the shadows. It wasn’t just friends and family who couldn't know… the world couldn’t know. In a way, you almost felt used or that you weren’t good enough to be shown. Nevertheless, you resumed walking, though your steps felt heavier now. Trent must have sensed your struggle because, after a few more moments, he bent down and picked a small daisy growing stubbornly among the fallen leaves. He held it out to you with a sheepish grin.

“Here,” he said, pressing it into your hand. "I always thought about nicking one of these and giving it to you but the lad's would've ripped into me back then." You couldn’t help but laugh, the gesture so innocent and sweet that it melted some of the tension in your chest. He leaned in and kissed your temple, the warmth of his lips comforting in the cold evening. You looked down at the daisy, a bittersweet smile playing on your lips. 

“They still would." You sympathetically smiled. "You know,” you began, shaking your head at the memories flooding back, “if you did that when we were kids, I would’ve screamed.” Trent’s eyes softened, a playful glint returning. 

“And now…?” he asked, wanting to hear how things had changed.

“Well…” You hesitated, your smile dimming. “It’s just a bit different now.” Your voice was quieter, the reality sinking back in. “I still like getting flowers from you.” You tried to backtrack but you couldn’t. The daisy felt like a piece of something beautiful, but the hoodie he still wore reminded you of the double life you both lived. The happiness was always tinged with the sadness of what you couldn’t have. Trent’s expression grew somber, and he stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup your face.

 “I know it’s not enough,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “But I’m trying, Y/N. I really am.” You closed your eyes, his warmth seeping into your skin. 

“I know,” you whispered back. “And that’s what makes it so hard.” You opened your eyes, looking into his, and for a moment, there was nothing but understanding between you. No words, no defenses—just the complicated, beautiful mess of feelings you shared. He pulled you into a hug, and you rested your head on his chest, the daisy still clutched in your hand. The sun had nearly set, and the park was empty now, just the two of you standing in a place full of memories, trying to find a way to make sense of the present. He kissed your forehead and instead of bringing comfort, it stung. You went home that night and pressed the daisy in a favorite book of yours to preserve it. It was a book of poems. You found a worn page that you turned to often, one that your mum loved. You hoped in some way maybe she could help you decide what that daisy meant if you kept it there between you and her.  And as you shut the book to cement it. You watched a teardrop fall onto the hard cover. You and Trent, your past and your present bound closed.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 6 xx

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker Pt 2

this is SO cliche i know. please. let me... have this...

a/n: 2 posts in less than 24 hours!?!?! yes!!! enjoy, please. im kinda proud of these. not even gonna tell y'all how i am bc u already know. quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults. summary: part 2 of the whole 'who out of the tokyo debunker boys is passing NNN?' thing. pretty self-explanatory. cw: fictional men jorking it!!!!!! MINORS DNI!!!!!!!! not really proofread i fear Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (jabberwock already written yea currently working on sinostra)

MINORS DNI AS USUAL! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Vagastrom:

Alan Mido: Fail

NOW! Before you jump me! He failed by accident. Forgot it was November. Needed to get his rocks off after everything pissing him off for a while. Sometimes though, he manages to hold out for a while. 

He’s working on a car right now, laying on the car roller, fixing it up after an unfortunate accident while dealing with an external anomaly. He lets his thoughts wander as he fixes the car. So many things had pissed him off this week. Ishibashi needing to meet at ridiculous times, Leo being unreliable, even his grades slipping. This car was just one of them. Maybe he needed to blow off some steam. Maybe he could go for a drive? No, not enough. Spar? No, he’d already taken enough of Sho’s time. Maybe… a different way? 

A sudden itch makes itself known just as he thinks that. He stiffens under the car, clenching his jaw. None of that. He was in the garage. He had to hold it together. He shakes his head and continues working on the car, ignoring the itch. He tries to come up with other ways to blow off steam. Studying, exercising, anything. The itch grows stronger. He sighs angrily and forces his attention on the car. He was in the garage, for fuck’s sake. The itch continues and then grows into a twitch. He presses his thighs together on impulse, before realizing how that may look and coughing, spreading his legs apart again. He bites his tongue and continues fixing the car as the twitching persists. His face becomes flushed and his composure cracks just a little. He couldn’t ignore his twitching cock forever.

And, maybe it’d be a good way to blow off some steam… 

Shohei Haizono: Pass

Well. As much as it seems like he may have a crazy sex drive, and as much as I would like to subscribe to that idea, I just don’t think it’s true. He doesn’t have a strong one. That said, he hardly goes a month without masturbating. He manages, but when he goes so long without it, it can get kinda frustrating. 

There were far too many customers today, he thinks. He’d gone several days without being able to wind down, since his food truck had been so busy. He’s glad for the success, but it’s become so time-consuming. The feeling had come out of nowhere, but since the last few customers and all throughout cleaning up, he’d been feeling a little pent up. His half-hard cock pressed insistently against his pants as he wiped down the counter, ensuring it was clean before he let out an exhausted sigh. The cool night air responded with crickets chirping and some owls hooting. 

Well… There wasn’t anyone around. 

Before he knows it, he’s turned off the lights, tucked himself underneath the counter where he wouldn’t be visible, and has eagerly pulled his cock out. He can’t be bothered to care about his surroundings as he starts, biting the sleeve of his uniform to prevent himself from being heard. Unfortunately, some light, breathy groans escape through the fabric of his shirt, but the noise mingles well with the pap pap pap sound of his hand over his cock and the shuffling sound of his legs opening and closing, overwhelmed with pleasure. His body shakes as he releases, careful to catch it in his palms, not wanting to have to clean again. When clarity finally hits, he sighs and shakes his head, observing his mess. God, how many sanitation laws did he just break?

And… did he remember to close the window?

Leo Kurosagi: Pass (Miserably)

Had to be clear. Yes, he passes, but barely, and miserably so. He’s doing it for clout and he’s posting about it, too. He’s letting his fans run wild with speculation at his announcement and letting them make all the claims they want when he successfully completes it. However, I’m quite confident that the second it was December 1st, Leo couldn’t fucking stand it anymore.

November 31st, 11:59pm. He lays on his bed with a half-hard cock pressing unyieldingly against his boxers and his phone in his hand with a drafted post congratulating himself for completing NNN, ready to be sent the moment that clock hit December 1st, 12:00am. He keeps his eyes fixated on the time, letting his hand drift downwards and hold himself through his pajama pants. The time still hasn’t changed. He gives himself a light squeeze, and is shocked at the needy sigh that passes through his lips. Fuck, he just needed this time to change. He just needed this time to change. He bites his lip, keeping the pressure on his cock as he gently strokes through his pants. He shifts his legs around, progressively getting more and more antsy as he stared at the time. 11:59 still. Who knew a minute could last so fucking long? He continues stroking gently, getting himself to full mast, twitching the entire time. 

Just as he’s about to give up, the time changes. 12:00am at last. He hurriedly presses “Post” and practically tosses his phone to the side, reaching inside his pajama pants and boxers to wrap a hand around his stiffened cock. He wastes no time in stroking, surprising even himself with his needy whines and unintelligible phrases and throaty moans. He spreads his legs apart and grips his thigh with his free hand, speeding up his pace. He moans through gritted teeth before his eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack, yielding a strangled moan as he covers his hands and pajamas with his release. He allows his legs to collapse on the bed, and picks up his phone again, checking his post. 

1k likes, 200 comments. It was 12:01am. Sheesh, that didn’t take him long at all…

a/n: wowee! i spit this out at 2am yesterday and fine-tuned it 2day so enjoy. eat this. i will be back 2 post jabberwock's soon, hopefully.

note that, as per usual, i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs!! please tell me how much you enjoyed my work!

[ooooo-mcyt]

Honestly I think Grian and Skizz as a duo have the capacity to be really good for each other.

Skizz is very accident prone. His strengths have never been in his survival skills, and while his teams always care about his safety, I don't think he's used to as much fussing as he's getting from Grian. Because Grian has a habit of feeling very responsible for his teammates and bending over backwards to see them succeed. Grian is clearly giving every resource he has into seeing Skizz live (even when the third member of their team has half written him off), and I think it's good for Skizz to have someone who's not willing to give up on him making it even in the worst circumstances.

Meanwhile Grian often struggles with two things. Expressing his emotions and overcoming his tendency to overthink and assign himself more guilt than he deserves. Skizz, for his part, is very good at picking up on and diffusing that. He thanks Grian for his contributions to the team, he recognizes and explicitly acknowledges Grian's snippiness as him fussing and looking out for Skizz instead of just getting annoyed by it, he's just very good at being a calming and supporting presence, which Grian often needs.

Grian and Skizz could be a duo who are so good for each other. Although honestly I think this is complicated by Mumbo's presence. He's very possessive and paranoid over Grian and suggests multiple times to Grian that they kick Skizz out of the group, all things I feel..interfere a bit with Skizz and Grian's ability to positively impact each other sometimes.

[jweekgoji]

Hello! Your writing is amazing! Can I request a yandere Sentinel Prime with a femme reader who has an overprotective Sire? Her sire does not care about who Sentinel is and clearly does not like him and it pisses Sentinel off. Take your time!

Yandere!Sentinel Prime/Femme!Reader with an overprotective sire [hcs]

tw: yandere behavior, mentions of manipulation, jealousy, very brief violence, possesiveness. word count: ~890 a/n: for some reason, I can see Ultra Magnus being this father figure, hehe. thank you for request, Anon~ smoooooch

Your sire doesn't like Sentinel? Well, that certainly wasn't in the plans for him. He expects everyone to treat him like a royalty and look up at him, so when someone treats him differently, it kinda catches off guard.

I don't think yandere!Sentinel will go into his 'killing mode' the moment he sees an obstacle, mainly because he's sure he can take care of that in a classy way.

Sentinel is definitely that guy who really wants to make a good first impression on your sire. He might act like a really confident mech in front of you, but for some reason, he is a little nervous about the thoughts of meeting your sire.

In his mind, it really goes quickly from «oh come on, why would her father dislike me? Everyone loves me!» to «oh Primus. what if he hates me?» and that's how it repeats 24/7. Eventually, the confident Sentinel wins, but he takes a lot of time to prepare for any possible scenario. Everything should be perfect, every single smallest detail is personally checked by him, so nothing goes past.

Imagine Sentinel's expression when your sire harshly brushes it off with a «You're not good enough for my daughter and I don't want you around her. End. Of. Story» and just SLAMS the door shut into his face the moment the other bot sees him. Basically, that's where everything goes wrong. Oh, his poor ego.

Yandere Sentinel especially hates when something goes wrong and not according to his plan. He's a perfectionist, and if he spots any imperfections, it's a total disaster for him! His mood quickly changes from sweet and kind to annoyed and impulsive, so it's better to stay away from him for a good few minutes until he takes a deep breath and goes like «this is fine...everything is fine! :)» with his optic twitching and a small frown on his faceplate, which is easily noticed through his smile.

Yandere!Sentinel gets paranoid with the thought that your sire will start putting the wrong thoughts in your processor, talking trash about him behind his back, so eventually you will start to question your love for Sentinel as well. So, he decides to step in and turn the tables, planting the seeds of distrust about your parental figure. Does your father really care that much for you? Nothing is wrong with being a little protective over your own little spark, but you're no sparkling, you should build your own life!

He does it carefully, using tiny, innocent and careful remarks whenever you two are alone after another disastrous meeting with your sire.

«If your sire really wants what is best for you, why he takes your chances of happiness?»

Until he practically struck you with a head-on, «You always tell me that you love me. So you should choose. Me or him.»

Sentinel is selfish. A small part of him understands how ridiculous it is, to feel jealousy just because your mentor is present in your life. But when you start having more of those father-and-daughter times together, when your attention goes more to your sire rather than him, all rationality in his processor just disappears.

He spends half the day trying to call for you. He wants to know where the frag you are and WHY you don't pick up his calls immediately, since he needs you right here and now. As his partner, you're obligated to always be there for him, and being ignored by you...the audacity!

Sentinel walks in circles in his office, and the silence is bothering him to the insanity. One moment, he will start crying his spark out to her about it.

“After everything I have done to her..! Can you imagine that?” he looks at Airachnid for validation, his voice full of frustration. “I swear, if she calls back, I'm going to tell her everything I think of her, that—”

But the moment he sees your name popping up on the screen, he is conflicted. On the one hand, he wants to pick up immediately, on the other hand, he doesn't want to seem desperate. So he waits a few seconds until he finally decides.

Airachnid gives him almost a disappointed look as she sees her boss using that sweet voice when he talks to you. Suddenly, Sentinel is not that angry anymore, and if anything, he's relieved to finally see and hear your precious voice. He almost forgets about what he said a moment ago until you hit him with «oh, sorry Sentinel, I was with my sire all day. I can't visit you today. See you tomorrow!».

He almost snaps the device in his servo by the end of the call.

Eventually, Sentinel gets exhausted from all of it. He really tried, despite the constant disrespect from your sire. He has no remorse when he finally asks Airachnid to deal with the obstacle in his way of getting you, covering the story as an incident. The death of your sire would shatter you, but don't worry, you will heal soon enough with him by your side.

[pboogerswbb]

a lil teaser... sooooo you guys want this or no?

it's Paige x reader

also toxic!paige warning lol

-

“Been missing you y’know-” Paige starts but I interrupt, knowing she had the tendency to talk herself right into my bed.

“Told you I never wanted to talk to you again, remember?” I say hating how shaky my voice sounds.

“Baby c’mon, you weren’t serious about that,” her hoarse voice filled with amusement.

“What, the screaming didn’t seem serious to you?” I sigh my eyes strictly on the road. Paige let’s out a chuckle and leans forward on the car seat.

“Ion remember non of that, just remember how bad I wanted to fuck that attitude out of you,” she chuckles and the car drifts off the lane for just a moment as i slap her only half seriously across the chest. I pull over on the road, parking the car. She was amused and it was pissing me off, bad.

“Get out,” I tell Paige sternly, rage and annoyance swirling inside me. She had no right to be making light of the situation. Not after how bad she had hurt me.

Paige lets out a laugh. “Man you’re crazy,” she tells me turning to face me. I face her too, the anger turning my cheeks even brighter. 

“I’m fucking serious. Get out,” I repeat my voice rising a little but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Paige just chuckles and shakes her head.

“KK always telling me I pick the crazy ones, I’m thinking she’s right,” Paige groans, not taking any initiative to get out of my car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and groan, leaning over Paige manspreading on the passenger seat, reaching for her door as she grabs my wrist, my face so close to hers I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The air in the car shifts, my annoyance turning into something that made my legs feel weak, as she licks her lips, her eyes on me. “M sorry ok,” Paige says, her voice low and hoarse now.

I fold, once again.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you, mmkay?” I say with a sigh, clearing my throat and pulling back from her before I made some really, really bad choices. Paige's let's go of my wrist, her grip leaving my skin tingling.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, satisfied by the effect she had on me.

I start the car and in silence we drive back to campus, the streets quiet on the dark Tuesday night. Paige fiddles with the zipper of her hoodie, her nimble fingers needing something to do - always looking for something to toy with. 

I tried to shake the feeling of each cell in my body screaming for her, needing to feel her skin against mine. I knew we weren’t good for each other. She wasn’t good for me. Part of me wished she came to tell me she’s done fucking around. That I’m all she wants, better than all the countless other girls that spent nights in her bed. That I was different, special. Worth letting everyone else go for. Frankly, even if she told me all those things, each word I wanted to hear, I wouldn’t believe her. 

When you were with Paige, it never felt like you were one of many though. She knew how to make you feel like you were the only one. It was in the way her blue eyes roamed my face, in the whine of her voice - like she would die if she didn’t have me. She’d remember your favourite movie and your mother’s name and the way you liked your coffee. All just to go see some other bitch later and repeat the same routine with her. Even with the girls she fucked, she had to be the best. Not because they meant anything, but because that’s who she had to be - the best. A winner.

[jameui]

THE BOY NEXT DOOR

PAIRING: ENHYPEN's Park Jongseong x M!Reader

GENRE: Smut, Fluff, Angst

WARNING: i guess some intense smutty action ✨, not proof read

SUMMARY: Park Jongseong. The name is known widely as the infamous fuckboy of the 4th floor in your apartment building. He insisted he shares a room with you for the night as he is being stalked. What's the worst that could happen?

Another night where you had your headphones on for a couple of hours now, knowing that your nextdoor neighbor was at it, again. Fucking horny boys and girls in his apartment room. In fact, it seemed to happen too frequently that you pretty much caught onto his schedule when he would start having his fun that you even had your alarm for it on just in case you forget about all of it.

Damn, Park Jongseong was one horny guy.

After that, he would throw them out of his room and leave them there almost naked, giving zero shits whether they would get fucked again on their way back home. Besides, it was just a one time thing. Practically, fuck and go. No strings attached. What a heartless guy, I must say. After taking advantage of their heart, he just leaves them as though they were just toys for him to play with.

But, of course, those were only the stories you heard. You knew Jongseong more than anyone can think.

Your eyes travelled its way up to the digital clock you owned above your closet after staring at your phone, scrolling through your feed to pass time. You saw that it was already half past six in the evening and that's usually the time when Jongseong would always finish.

You wanted to make sure first that he was actually done, pulling on one side of your headphones. When you thought it was finally quiet, you slowly took it off and sighed to yourself. "Finally."

You got off your bed to move to the mini fridge you have where you stored all your bottled water, since you loved drinking cold water rather than lukewarm. Soon, there was a knock on your door which got you feeling confused since you weren't really expecting any visitor.

You heard another knock bringing you to your front door to open the door for the person outside of your room. "Who is..." You trailed off when you saw your next door neighbor standing in front of you. "Jongseong?" You heard a loud bark from beside him, later noticing his pet dog that made you coo at how the cute creature looked like.

She was wearing a pair of sunglasses which you knew Jongseong had put on her himself while she wore a very cute shirt with the tag 'I'M THE BEST DOG' written on the back of it. You kneeled down to match the height of it and started to pet her, Charlotte, as you remembered it, wagging her tail happily.

"Y/N, can you do me a favor?" You heard the taller male speak out, you looked up at him with a smile. Jongseong looked like he was hesitating to say what he had in his mind to you, judging by the way he would stumble through his words or how he would open his mouth to say something only to shut them close and repeat.

Without looking at him you give him a soft laugh, all the while giving Charlotte the best belly rub who was now lying on her back. "Speak up, Park," you said, with Jongseong hesitating for the nth time. You paused for a moment facing up towards the other male, your head tilted over to the side a little. "I can't read minds, you know," You joked in an attempt to lessen what Jongseong is feeling.

Jongseong sighed, blushing due to his embarrassment. Your words were all that he needed, pushing him to tell you the tiny favor he would like to ask of you. "Well, you see. It's er... can I and Charlotte crash at your place for the night?" Jongseong stuttered a little, trying to compromise, thinking of the right words to make it seem less inappropriate. "It's very important and I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to do," he quickly added.

You rolled your eyes at him, then standing back up knowing just how it had come to this. "Let me guess. Another stalker?" You asked him in a teasing manner, Jongseong immediately shaking his head in denial. You raised him a brow while crossing your arms.

Jongseong was still pressed on denying it, but the look on your face made him do otherwise. He could only sigh in defeat and hang his head low whilst nodding his head looking like a dejected dog, his shoulders slumped down. You gave him a pat on top of his head, practically on top of your toes.

You opened the door for him to enter, gesturing for him to get inside. "Come on in," you welcomed the male into your place, the blonde male replying with a muttered 'thank you' and a smile. Once he's settled inside, you close the door behind you. "Just don't use my apartment room as your new strip club."

Jongseong quickly snapped his head toward you and shook his head. "I promise you none of that will happen," Jongseong reassured you, while you took something out of your dresser's drawer. He hears a soft laugh from you, the taller male realizing that you were just teasing him, making him frown.

"I know. I trust you," you told him before you threw to him a spare key that you kept with you in case you lost the one you're currently using. You popped a loli into your mouth and sucked down the flavor of the sweets. "So, how'd you get in this situation? Again?" You asked him, walking towards your bed and sat on top of it.

Jongseong contemplates, before he looks back at you and your eyes stared back at him with full anticipation. He lets out a sigh. "Well, you see. Tonight, isn't that normal night," he answered, but you didn't completely understand what he meant to which you just stayed silent for, as a signal for the male to continue. "Believe it or not, I didn't bring anyone today because I'm having a test coming up tomorrow," he continued.

"That... still doesn't explain to me why you're getting stalked," you subtly persuade the male to tell you the leading cause of the unnecessary attention, but it didn't have to take any of that since Jongseong is willing to tell you everything. I mean, EVERYTHING.

He laughs softly at how impatient you are. "Just wait and listen," he mocks you in the most polite way possible, afraid that your attitude is brushing onto him. Though you don't meet often, you're the one who practically saves him from your lousy neighbors. So, it's starting to kinda reflect onto him.

You raised your arms and let the male do the speaking. "I asked to be recommended a tutor and found out one of the guys who applied is actually one of my past side flings. The same guy I told you about. The one who endlessly obsessed over me," Jongseong pointed out and you thought for a moment before you snapped your finger and points at Jongseong, your mouth agape in shock. "Yeap, yeah, exactly. I was shocked as well that he found any of my socials. It still got me thinking how he did it." Jongseong seeped air through his teeth, cocking his head to the side.

You got up from where you're sat and patted the male's back. "I may not be able to do anything about.. this. But, you'll be safe here inside," you stated out and went to pick up your towel from the rack to take a shower. "I'll only take a couple of minutes. I better not catch you peeking, Park,"

"Oh, god. Please." Jongseong scoffs at your cocky attitude, then he hears laughter from you before the door to your bathroom is shut closed. As soon as you got hidden inside of your bathroom, Jongseong hears the light taps of Charlotte's paw on the floor approaching him. She had something in here mouth. "Charlotte, don't go snooping around someone else's stuff," Jongseong gently told his pet dog who threw the item across the floor and let out a bark.

Jongseong looks at it confused. "What's this?" The male picks it up and draws it near to him. It looked like a pendant. Only it wasn't. He noticed the small crack around it, probably an opening and ran his finger over it, before it slowly opens and a music plays.

'Dear, don't fret. You are wonderful.'

It was a small holographic message. It looked too advanced, technologically speaking. Who could have made this? It's... brilliant. It feels like a memory locked in a device to help you remember. "This is... incredible. Don't you think so, too, Charlotte?" The female dog barks in reply and pants happily with her tongue out.

After a few more minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom with a fur robe on while you dried your hair with a towel. You catch the male staring, or admiring rather, at something and had a huge smile on his face. He looked very fascinated. "Whatcha got there, Jay?" The male didn't reply and continued to stare at the item. You chuckled.

You make your way towards him and only then that Jongseong is able to acknowledge your presence. "Oh, you're done? Sorry, I sorta got distracted by this. Whatever this is," Jongseong told you, the smile still etched onto his face. "It's so amazing," Jongseong makes a comment and your face splits into a smile.

You sat on the nearest chair beside the taller male and spoke up. "My dad made it for me," you shared to the male, whose mouth turned an 'o' shape in shock, turning his head to you. "He created it so I'd never feel homesick, but it only made it worse." You let out a light laugh, head hanging a little low, unable to look at Jongseong who found sympathy in you.

"You have a really great father, Y/N," Jongseong said with a soft smile. You lift your face up to look at the other male and decided that that was enough sentiment for the day and chose to tease Jongseong, again.

"And who told you to go snooping around my room?" You smirked, making Jongseong widen his eyes and point at his pet dog, who whimpers and lay flat on the floor while she covered her face with her paws, which you found incredibly cute as though she's able to understand your language. At this point, maybe she does. "I'm just kidding," you stood up from where you are sat and moved to your closet. You are about to get changed.

On instinct, Jongseong turns on his back and puts the pendant down on your table, but there is one thing he couldn't get off his mind. "I'm sorry. Y/N, just minutes ago, did you just call me 'J'?" Jongseong scrunched his face, not able to trust his ears. He might have misheard things.

As you threw on what you could see as cute in your closet, you replied with a hum. "Yeah, sorry. I should have thought first before I spoke. Does it bother you?" Your brows furrowed. You really had the the idea that you and Jongseong are already that close to be calling each other by nicknames.

Jongseong shakes his head in reply, but guessed you couldn't see. "No, not a even a bit," he answered. "It's just new to me, but I guess I'll get used to it eventually," he continued, before he heard the closet door close and the bed creak on your weight which could have only meant that you're done. "Are you finished?" He questioned for safety measures.

"Yeah. You can turn around now," you replied. Jongseong cautiously turns around, making you raise a brow. "So, you're scared of seeing a clothed body than a nude?" You scoffed.

"No, no. It's not like that. I mean you're a very close friend. And if I were to see you naked accidentally that would mean an awkward atmosphere around us," Jongseong full on explained and hearing that the male considered you as a close friend made your heart swell in happiness.

You propped yourself down on your bed with your hands. "Point taken," you told Jongseong. "By the way, if you didn't bring anyone with you tonight, then what was the noise in your room all about?" Your curiosity got the best of you as you looked over at Jongseong who had his lips pushed into a pout and a blush on his face.

Oh, it's those kind of days.

You breathed in air through your nose and tapped your feet on the floor. "Well, Jay. I have to stop by the convenience store. Anything you want?" You stood up to take out your wallet and fix a few things where your other important items are hidden.

The taller male lit up at the mention of having to go outside. "Can I come with you?" Jongseong asked, a little too excited. Almost like a kid who wants to go only for the car ride.

You turn to him, a big smile riding on his lips, before you return to securing your things. "Uhm, are you sure? Wouldn't that be a little dangerous?" You started to make your way to the clothing rack where some of your coats are hanging. "Considering you have a stalker that's on the loose," you stated to which made Jongseong knit his brows.

"Damn those pricks," Jongseong whispered under his breathe, still loud enough for you to hear though. He tried looking for excuses, but only found the shorts you are wearing. "And how about you? You can't possibly be going out with just that," he pointed out.

You looked down and faced him with an 'are you kidding me' look. "What about it? They're loose jersey shorts. You should be more concerned about yourself. You could catch a cold with what you're wearing. A tank top and thigh length shorts." you told him yet Jongseong was already on his way out with Charlotte. "What is up with this guy?"

In the end, even when you felt skeptical with other male, you still let him sleep over for the night. When you arrived, the male kept on insisting he stayed. The poor male looked shaken up by something you can't determine, so here you are in one bed with Jongseong who is barely in anything, but a boxer after you tried to resist him from sleeping on the floor and it made falling asleep hard for you.

It ain't helping either that you used to have a big fat crush on the older male when you first arrived here in this building. Keyword: USED. After you realized he had a fuckboy tendency and it just didn't seem quite right to you.

You let out a sigh and your eyes went over to the time on your clock. '2:31 A.M', it reads and all you could do is groan silently, your eyes clenched shut at your distress.

You opened the bedside lamp to at least illuminate a small portion of the room as you rubbed your stinging eyes. You feel so tired, but your thoughts are circling around your head endlessly like your own brain is trying to torture you, but you have no choice. You brought yourself onto this and now you have to pay.

You looked over to the other side to see Jongseong sleeping so soundly. Like a baby, safe in his mother's arms. At the sight, a small smile made its way up to your lips. "At least someone's able to get some sleep," you muttered out with a scoff, before you adjusted the blanket, so it covered him comfortably. He might be cold already considering that you put the temperature down a few degrees down, yet he still had the strength to get almost completely naked.

You watched him snore lightly. He looks so peaceful. Has he always looked this good in this light? You thought to yourself, as your gentle grin stayed on your face.

You gave a sigh and moved a few hair strands that got in the way of his face, but were immediately stopped by the older male who took ahold of your wrist which made you flinch. His grip was gentle.

You quickly averted your attention to his eyes which you felt started to bore holes into your skin. His face is dimly lit by the lamp on your table, but he still looked so ethereal. "Y/N, what are you doing to me?" His sudden question made you look at him confused.

He sat up from the bed, all the while the hem of the blanket falling to his waist which gave you a just right view of his structured abdominal muscles. "I... I don't understand," you replied to him, Jongseong sighing audibly loudly.

"Ever since you arrived in this building, nothing ever went well for me," Jongseong continued, that got you taken aback as you pulled your arm away from the male whose eyes lingered onto you.

You raised him a brow, feeling literally offended at what he had just said. After you let him spend the night at your apartment, this is the thanks you get from him? "Excuse me? Be at least grateful—"

"Let me finish," Jongseong cuts you off mid-sentence with a chuckle and you folded your arms on your chest and you gave him the stage, letting him hit the microphone with whatever he had to say. "See, this will sound weird, just giving you a heads up, but I just... I can't get it up," he stated.

You scoffed at him in disbelief. "And that's supposed to be MY fault?" For your entire existence you've never had a person blame you for their erectile dysfunction and hearing this from Jongseong—the male you only considered your friend right now—is blaming you that he couldn't get an erection because of you. That's just completely fucked up.

"Yes," Jongseong replied, rather more solemn than bluntly. Your jaw dropped at his reply and your instinct was to just kick him out of your apartment, but he looked like he had a lot of things going on inside his head. Before you could even reply, Jongseong faces you with a bittersweet smile riding on his lips. "Because I like you, Y/N. I've liked you since... I don't know, before we even started talking which was like almost two years ago. And I couldn't get you out of my head. I didn't want to make you feel sexualized or in any form, sexualize your image. I can't do that to you, Y/N," he said, ending with a tone that told you he is truly genuine and truly cared about you.

You could only look at him with furrowed brows, your mouth opened, but unable to make a noise. You were shocked, to say the least. In the middle of the night, all because Jongseong had a problem with his hormones, confessed to you out of nowhere. Who wouldn't be so surprised with that sudden news?

"Jay, I... uhm," you let out, hesitant.

"It's fine, Y/N. You really don't have to say anything if you don't feel like it. Besides, hearing a reply without much of any—" he is stopped the same way, but you've put a finger on his lips to make him go quiet.

"I don't need time to think about everything, Jay," you replied, a small smile on your lips. You trailed off, trying to find out how to start, but you thought giving it to him directly would be the best way. "I like you, Park Jongseong. Less than you think, though. Look, I don't know when it actually started, but it gave me the ick that you're actually a call boy, but I thought I would have done the same for a check," you laughed lightly.

"Uh, thanks?" Jongseong let out, one brow raised upward.

You sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that, I like you, Jay. I love your personality, I love the way you care for me, your dog, your family, or the way you'd always update me about—" Jongseong gave you no chance to finish what you're saying and spare you no time to adjust as he grabbed the back of your neck and planted his lips onto yours.

You were quick to process as you melted into the kiss, your eyes shutting closed while your hands instinctively found themselves in his soft bleached locks, your fingers entangled within it. Your heads and lips perfectly sync with each other, untamed thoughts circling around your head like a broken record. They were unruly, but it somehow made your heart feel full.

It's like on a winter night and you start the fireplace to warm the room. You don't even remember any sense dawning over you as you just let yourself in to the spur of the moment as though your whole life depended on it.

A few minutes in and Jongseong decides to deepen the kiss, as he slides one hand under the pit of your leg, rising ever so slowly as he lifted the bottom hem of the jersey shorts you wore, a soft moan moving past your mouth, the older male swallowing the sweet sound. You feel one side of his lips curve into a smirk, satisfied with the reaction he received from you.

You were probably gonna regret this later on; being treated like one of Jongseong's clients, but you wanted his touch. You NEEDED his touch. You craved everything he can give. You yearned for his warmth. You need him, in general.

It's like he's some kind of drug that made you suddenly feel addicted with one taste and you know for a fact that you'll never be able to get out of this sensation.

Jongseong nipped at your bottom lip, asking for permission. As a reply to his request, you slowly parted your lips for access. With not much time to lose, Jongseong (gently) delved into the depths of your wet cavern, cupping your cheeks as he started to search for your tongue.

Thinking the placement was uncomfortable, the blonde male repositions himself, so he's fully facing you, all the while never breaking contact. Your tongues danced together, both in different pace, but found a way to synchronize with each other, as though harmonizing.

Whilst your tongues played with each other, your hands went down to feel his biceps, which you found attractive with all the muscles surrounding it. Your fingers smoothly glided over the protruding skin of his arms, still too high on the kiss to even focus somewhere else other than the shape of his lips. It's like they were carved to fit yours perfectly.

For a breather, Jongseong was the first to pull away, breaking the kiss as you start to already miss the intimacy. Hearing a whimper unconsciously leave your throat, Jongseong chuckles. "In a second, angel. We still have to breathe, you know," he smirks. Right now, his sight of you just raised the gauge of his sex drive higher.

As everything had started to heat things up inside the room already, you could no longer wait. You're feeling hot and the way he looked so sexy just made you want him to just take you; make him claim you as his only possession.

While Jongseong tried to find a better position, you sunk down to become face to face with his clothed crotch. This went unnoticed by the male, not until he felt a shiver run down his spine when he felt your finger om the waistband of his boxers that he looks at you, while your eyes were already clouded with lust.

"Y/N, what are you—ah," he moans at the contact of his clothed member on your open palm, teasing him before you pulled down the only item that restricted you from its full glory, his cock coming in contact with the cold air of your room. "Shit.." The male let out when he felt your tongue line the underside of his cock.

"A-ah, Y/N. I didn't—ah," Jongseong sighed at the pure pleasure you were giving him. Out of pure desperation to aatosfy the taller male, you fit the tip of his thick rod in your mouth, which earned you a hiss from the blonde as a hand found its way on top of your hair. "Shit, Y/N, ah... stop teasing," He moaned, feeling your tongue swirl around his girth, the older male pushing his head back, feeling so much bliss.

Soon enough, your chest swelled with pride as you made a spur of the moment decision to take the whole male inside your mouth, while Jongseong hitched in place, an electrifying sensation running down his back. "FUCK!" He moaned out, unconsciously pulling at your hair.

You bobbed your head up and down, only then taking the few inches you could take inside your mouth (after a realization that he was too big to take whole) and jerked him off to compensate for it. Jongseong seeped air through his mouth, peering down at you only to see that your eyes was looking up at him as he had the perfect view of your lips perfectly curled around his cock.

He got more turned on by the sight of you and could no longer hold himself back anymore, raising his hands to hold onto the back of your head and forced his whole length inside your throat, which made you gag and choke, earning a satisfied whistle from Jongseong who chuckled and caressed your beautiful face. "I can see that you were trying, Y/N, but you weren't trying hard enough." The male smirked, then went on with his plan to assault your unaccustomed throat in a fast pace, tears forming in your eyes as they rolled themselves at the back of your head over the euphoria that Jongseong brought to you by constantly hitting the back of your throat.

"Shit, fuck," Jongseong cursed through gritted teeth, the vibrations of your moan only sending a satisfying sensation to his girthy dick, you knew immediately that he was feeling good. "So, you were waiting for this to happen all this time, huh?" He questioned you, not stopping with his erratic movements.

If you hadn't lost all your senses, you wouldn't have let yourself be treated like you're a thirsty slut, but the pleasure is unbearable and at any moment you felt like your mind will finally break.

Without thinking much about it, you nodded your head in reply and the smirk on Jongseong's face only grew wider. "Me too, babe," He said and continued on violating your mouth, resorting to a more inhuman speed and laughing darkly at how easily you submitted to him, liking the idea that if he ever felt pent he could easily just run to you and you'd just let him use you, but of course he wasn't a bad guy to take advantage of you. It's just an idea. An impossibly dream, if you must.

"Damn, angel. Didn't know your mouth could do so much wonder," Jongseong groaned, you holding onto his thighs for dear life, hoping your neck wouldn't break at how strong his thrusts were.

You knew how much Jongseong is capable of being rough with anyone, he literally goes down with any sex play—it's not eavesdropping, it's overhearing—but damn, you never knew him being this rough with you would be so fucking hot. Even having to experience it firsthand.

"Maybe we can do more than just this, Y/N. Weren't for us having to rest for our class tomorrow." It was nice of the male to think of your welfare, but it already reached this far and he'll let go with just a simple blowjob? You wished he's just joking.

Jongseong's pace went unbelievably animalistic, suddenly not caring about how you were now crying due to the pleasure, finding it fun how those tears stained your cheeks like they were the perfect decoration on your face, him abusing your throat with all the strength he had left until he started to convulse and buried his dick deep inside your throat and filled your mouth up with his cum, feeding you every last drop, not spilling anything as it ran down yoir throat.

He was a panting mess as he stared down at you, finding it adorable that you were so fucked up and was made a mess of by him.

He thrusts a few more time to ride out his high, before he caressed your cheeks softly, then pulling his now flaccid cock and puts a finger below your chin to lift your face up. "Not a single drop, darling. Open your mouth," He demanded of you, you complied as you opened your mouth with you tongue rolled out.

Jongseong, feeling satisfied, bent down to your height and kissed you on the forehead. "Well done, angel," he said, then fixed himself up and helped you up to your feet with a slight chuckle. "You're already weak to your knees? We still haven't even got to that part yet, Y/N," He teased you that immediately made you blush.

"Sh-shut up, Park," You told him, your voice a little hoarse, Jongseong being the reason why.

The next morning you woke up, with your eyes still feeling heavy and the memory of what happened im the middle of the night engraved in your head.

You soon realize that the bed was empty and the space beside you where Jongseong slept has now gone cold. It dawned over you like a bucket of cold water. "I should have known. I was just one of his clients," you mumbled to yourself.

"You're not a client, Y/N," a voice started from somewhere in the room, which startled you as you got up immediately and saw Jongseong by the window reading a book, in a bath robe.

Jongseong looks at you and you did as well. You were in different clothes. Did he get you changed? "I, uhm, I thought you left," you stumbled in your words. You didn't want to sound too desperate.

"I wouldn't. I would never," he replied, before he closes the book and approached you with I want to be your partner." Jongseong looks at you with his eyes full of sincerity and truthfulness. "If you're doubting my words, I'll prove to you by my actions. I will stop these vices," he stated out with determination in his voice.

"Jay... you weren't being stalked, were you?" You asked him which took the male aback. "You just wanted to spend time with me," you concluded that made him blush a deep red color. You found it cute at how he gets very flustered easily, before you threw your hands around him for a hug. "And I would have done the same if I were you," you said as the taller male, wrapped his arms around you to keep you close to him.